I glance at Nalani. She’s already pushing the door open.
“Mr. Bronski?” she calls.
“Over by the window,” comes the reply. “Took a spill. Must’ve hit my head.”
I hurry toward them and look in. He’s on the floor, half sitting, half sprawled, pale but alert. “Oh, my Lord, are you okay?”
“I appear to still be alive,” he says with a wheezy chuckle. “Arms aren’t what they used to be. Knees are shot. Can’t seem to get myself up.”
“We’ll help you out,” I tell him, moving to his side.
His skin is cool, his pulse steady under my fingers. Together, Nalani and I brace him, lifting carefully until he’s standing and able to shuffle toward his recliner.
“Walkers by the chair,” he says, breathless. “Thought I was strong enough when Gertie—or maybe it was Tootsie—wanted in last night.”
“Your chickens?” I ask.
He nods. “The girls.”
Once he’s seated, Nalani asks, “Mr. Bronski, can I call someone? Maybe get you to a hospital?”
“It’s Paul,” he says. “And I don’t do hospitals.”
“You could be seriously hurt,” I say firmly.
“Only thing they’ll do with me is throw me in one of those old folk warehouses. I’m not going out like that.”
“Do you have family?” Nalani asks gently.
“Patsy and I never had kids.” His voice drops. “She died ten years back.”
My heart squeezes. “I’m sorry.”
He waves it off. “I’ve got one greedy nephew waiting for me to keel over so he can sell the building. That’s family for you.”
“Who takes care of you?” Sofie asks from the doorway, finally finding her courage.
“You must be the sour puss,” he says with a grin.
“I mean, do you blame us for being a little freaked out?” she fires back.
“Sofie,” Nalani hisses.
He laughs again. “She’s not wrong.”
“You know what’s wrong, Paul?” she presses, stepping closer.
“Sofie.” Nalani snaps.
She keeps going. “If you don’t get someone in here to check on you, you’re going to die, and it’s not mildew people will smell in this hallway—it’ll be you.”
“Oh my God, Sofie, stop.” Nalani gasps
Sofie folds her arms. “No, I won’t, because if he doesn’t get someone in here to look after him, you’re going to come in here one day, and it’s not mildew you’ll be smelling in the hallway—it’ll be him.”
“Sofie!” Both Nalani and I gasp.
She keeps on going. “Why would you rent this place to a young woman who?—”
