“I’ll step out for a few minutes while he’s asleep,” I said.

By six thirty, dark gray rain clouds hung low over the hospital roof.

A steady autumn rain tapped on the concrete paving stones of the outdoor courtyard.

I went out to the covered wooden bench beside the courtyard garden, pulling my coat collar tight against the cold breeze.

I called the office of Donald Higgins, our family estate lawyer.

It rang three times before it picked up.

“Donald Higgins,” his dry voice said.