Chuck doesn’t remember her. Though Rose understands—he was drugged nearly to obliviousness when they were together—still she is a little hurt. “Yes. We knew each other in the MCU, the Memory Care Unit.”

“Eddie here has told me a little about that. I am not a man who enjoys only being told a little about why he is in the woods in the middle of nowhere without so much as a change of clothes.”

“Charles Boster?” Elizabeth Pryor says.

“Speaking,” says the voice.

“The Honorable Charles Boster, Court of Appeals?”

“Retired.”

“This is Elizabeth Pryor. I have been in your court many times.”

“Counselor Pryor, I remember you.”

Rose hands the phone to Elizabeth, who immediately leaves the room in search of privacy. A policeman is stationed outside the hospital room’s door. Rose doesn’t think he is there to ensure her safety.

No one speaks for a while. “I guess it’s all about lawyers now,” Flynn says. “I’ll see if I can’t arrange to reduce my travel.”

“I’ve got to … go … somewhere,” Daniel says vaguely. “Find an apartment. Like that.” He drifts out of the room.

“Let me know where to deliver your dratted cats,” Nancy says. “The big one has ruined my sofa. I’ll send you the bill.”

“Thank you,” Rose says to the ramrod-straight retreating back.

A nurse appears to shoo Flynn and Royal from the room. In the doorway, Flynn halts like a freeze-frame in a movie. Mel and Rose wait.

Without turning to face them, Flynn says, “Rose, I’m sorry I let this happen to you. Dad…” He clears his throat. “Dad was the guy who could fix anything, make things work, make them whole. When he died … I guess that guy is me now.”

“Us,” Rose says. “That guy is us.”

Flynn looks at her. “Us,” he agrees. “I’ll be home a lot more,” he says to Mel.

“Promise or threat?” she teases.

“Both,” he answers with a crooked smile. “I’ll be back later. You two get some rest.”

“Wow,” Mel breathes when her dad is gone.

“Yeah. I thought I was in big trouble,” Rose says.

“Me, too.”

Rose and Mel sit quietly, both on their cell phones. Too tired to talk, Rose texts Marion a brief update. Got to love a happy ending, Marion texts back. It is a happy ending. Rose knows that; she just doesn’t feel that. What she feels is emptiness. Emptiness is good. She breathes it in for a while, balancing in that lovely space between thought and death where the knowledge that one is made of stardust becomes visceral.

After a time, she says to no one in particular, “Chuck doesn’t remember me.”

“He will,” Mel says comfortingly.

“It’ll be good to have my cats back. Do you think Honey Cat really shredded Nancy’s sofa?”

“It’s pretty shredded.”

“The cats must not like Nancy.”

Mel doesn’t comment.