My Neighbor Knocked in the Rain and Told Me to Take My Granddaughter Across the Street—From His Window, I Watched My Own Son Enter My House

Practiced concern.

The kind that makes the person receiving it feel foolish for resisting.

That afternoon, Rosalind sat across from me at the kitchen table.

She lowered her voice.

“Grandpa?”

“Yes?”

“Did Aunt Pamela ask you about your medicine?”

“No.”