“Was I the only person in Dad’s life who knew absolutely nothing?”
Frank considered it.
“Yes.”
Mom laughed so hard she had to hold the railing.
I stared at the photograph again.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“We were going to.”
Mom’s smile faded gently.
“Daniel wanted to wait until I was ready to leave full-time care.”
“Were you?”
She nodded.
“I am.”
I looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
She reached into her handbag.
Inside was a small key.
“I’ve been approved for independent living.”
I felt something shift inside my chest.
“Where?”
She smiled.
“Here.”
I looked toward Margaret’s Place.
“There’s a staff apartment behind the counseling center.”
Mom nodded.
“They need someone in the garden.”
“You hate gardening.”
“I’ve changed.”
“You killed a cactus.”
“That was twenty years ago.”
“It was plastic.”
Frank nearly fell off the dock laughing.
