“Mr. Adler? Would you like me to take this lunch tray away? And maybe bring you an apple?”

“Far kinder tsereist men a velt.” He didn’t remember exactly what it meant, but he knew it was the truth.

“I’ll bring you an apple,” Gwendolyn said, scooping up the tray. She hurried off.

On the other side of the table, a small, wizened woman sitting in a wheelchair wrung her hands. “What do I do now? Am I okay?”

“You’re okay. You don’t need to do anything,” said Benjamin.

The woman smiled. “Thank you. I just like to ask.”

The right words sometimes came, and when they did, it was like a puzzle piece snapping into place. Benjamin smiled back. He pointed at the squirrel outside. “They do their best, but the bagels here, oy.”

“Oy,” the woman said. “Not so good.”

“Good for the fuzzy tails, though,” he said.

“Fuzzy tails,” the woman agreed.

“The little songs are coming to sing,” he informed her.

“That’s nice,” she said. “I like music.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the sun on their faces, the view of the fuzzy tail and his precious but obviously terrible bagel, the films unspooling in their own minds. There was another bird that sang, not a mockingbird, but a . . . a . . . crow? No. A talking bird. Big and black. You could teach him things, and he would remember. He would tell you what he knew, if you asked the right question.

“Here, birdy-birdy-birdy,” Benjamin said.

Gwendolyn appeared next to him. “Your first visitor is here now,” she said. “A surprise visitor!”

Benjamin turned. A woman with warm brown skin and black hair piled on her head stood there. She wore a pair of small sunglasses with blue lenses and a long silvery-gray coat that settled around her ankles.

“It’s the summertime,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said the woman. “But I don’t want to get too hot.”

This made sense and also did not, but Benjamin wouldn’t dwell on the contradiction.

Neither would Gwendolyn. “I’ll let you two visit for a while. Come on, Mrs. Feingold. Let’s go for a walk outside.”

“I want to see the fuzzy tails,” said Mrs. Feingold.

“And they want to see you,” Gwendolyn said.

“Don’t baby me,” said Mrs. Feingold. Then she said, “Am I okay?”

“You’re perfect, Mrs. Feingold.”

“Feh.”

The visitor sat down next to Benjamin. “Do you know me?”

“I think I should,” said Benjamin. The right words. But also the wrong ones, because he didn’t know her. At least, he didn’t know her name. But she was familiar to him, as if someone had described her to him long ago and here she was. Like the answer to a clue in a crossword. Annie loved her crosswords.

“My name is Ava. I knew your daughter,” said the woman.