Seven Years After My Daughter’s Funeral, I Followed Her Husband to a Rehabilitation Center—And Saw a Woman I Thought Was Dead

I could follow him and ask why he had been meeting that woman, or I could go inside and find out who she was.

I chose the building.

The lobby smelled of floor cleaner and coffee.

A television mounted above the reception desk was showing a cooking program with the sound turned low.

A receptionist was arranging a stack of visitor forms.

“Good afternoon,” she said.

“Can I help you?”

“I believe my son-in-law just came in with a woman.