“Daniel says you’re mixing up old memories with things happening right now,” she said.

“He asked me if I thought you were still capable of taking care of yourself in that big house.”

“I am perfectly capable of managing my own life,” I said.

“He’s genuinely worried about you, Aunt Margaret,” Chloe said, sliding out of the vinyl booth.

“He told me he’s looking into assisted living facilities with full-time medical care.”

She set a two-dollar bill on the table for her drink and walked straight out the glass door to the street.

I sat in the booth for five minutes after she left, watching the autumn rain hit the window while a small spark of confidence grew in my chest.