“That’s the thing, I don’t know. My sister and I would have to convince him. But he can’t live alone anymore.”
“I can see why he’s attached to it,” he said carefully. “You and your sister grew up there, and it’s a beautiful piece of property. There aren’t many like it around.” He thought uneasily of the rumor that Weber Properties had been sniffing around. They’d snap up the Linden place in a heartbeat, then bulldoze it for a dozen more houses. Obliterate the meadow.
“It’s not just that we grew up there,” she said, “it’s all tied up with my mom for him. They moved here when they first married and always talked about keeping bees one day. But then she got Alzheimer’s. He took care of her at home until the end.”
Their dinners had arrived, but neither of them made a move to eat. “I don’t know much about Alzheimer’s,” he said, “except I had a great-aunt with dementia, and she ended up in a facility. They tried to keep her at home, but eventually it became impossible.”
“Itisimpossible. It’s horrible, I don’t know how my dad did it. And I wasn’t any help. I couldn’t deal. I went off to college and hardly came back. Even after she died, I didn’t come home. My dad and I always hit heads; he liked to give orders and I didn’t want to take them. And the house…” She raised a shoulder. “It reminds me so much of her. My dad hasn’t changed a thing.”
“You were a teenager when she got it?” He did some quick math. “She must have been pretty young.”
“My age,” she said bleakly. “Early onset. And now every time I forget my keys I think—this is it. It’s starting.” She laughed alittle to try to lighten the mood, but he could tell this was a deep, unrelenting fear.
“Does it always run in families?” He thought he’d read something about that, but he hadn’t paid a lot of attention to Alzheimer’s.
“This kind does, yeah.”
The group at the next table had opened another bottle of wine and cranked up the volume. He leaned forward, focusing on Cassie. She was beautiful and fragile and terrified. Who wouldn’t be? “Is there a test,” he said gently, “so at least you’d know?”
“There’s genetic testing if you know what mutation your parent had, which we do. Because my mom had it, there’s a fifty percent chance I inherited the mutation. If I do have it, I’ll definitely get early onset. One hundred percent. They can’t tell me exactly when, but it will happen.”
He exhaled softly. All his concerns seemed trivial compared to this. His ongoing irritation at Sophie, his obsessing over which bees had mites or if they had enough honey for the winter. None of it compared. Cassie woke up every day afraid she might lose her mind.
“What are you going to do?” he said.
She sighed. “I was on the fence for a long time, but Shelly’s been after me. I wasn’t going to do it because there’s no treatment at this point. Maybe some clinical trials down the line.” She picked up her wine, then set it down. “But it’s so hard not knowing, wondering whether I’m cranky because my personality is starting to change or if whatever word I forgot means it’s starting. So I made an appointment with a genetic counselor. At least I’ll know.”
He touched her hand, which felt cold even though the restaurant was warm. “That takes a lot of courage,” he said. “Either way.”
“How do you mean?”
“Knowing and living with it or deciding you don’t want to know. And living with that.”
She looked directly into his eyes. “What would you do?”
He considered for a minute. “I don’t know. I probably wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning.”
She let go a laugh and her face relaxed. “You have a sneaky sense of humor, you know that?”
“I do?” He wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but not sneaky.”
She took a bite of pasta, her mood lighter. “I mean you’re funny, but it sneaks up on you. Most of the time, you’re so serious.”
“I’m not always that serious,” he objected. He tried to think of a time when he’d been lighthearted but came up blank. “Lilah thinks I’m a goof,” he offered lamely.
She laughed at this. “I’m sure Andrew thinks I’m ridiculous too. He says I worry too much, but there’s a lot to worry about. He’s leaving school right before finals. Tell me how I’m not supposed to worry about that!” She aimed her fork at him for emphasis.
“So does it get any easier? Being a parent, I mean.” This was something he’d actually thought a lot about. Whether he’d worry the same when Lilah was twenty.
“It gets easier in some ways. I don’t worry about the stuff I did when he was twelve, but girls are tougher. All that drama.” She shuddered. “I remember how I was at that age. My mother must have been a saint.”
Somewhere along the way, they’d finished their wine and ordered more. He was pleasantly buzzed. He leaned back in his chair, amused and enchanted. He could sit across from her all night. The way she tossed her hair when she spoke, not even realizing how it showed off her lovely neck. And her eyes, whichchanged in the light. At first he’d thought they were green, then decided hazel. “So what were you like when you were twelve?”
“Pretty much a brat. You wouldn’t have wanted to know me.” She narrowed her eyes. “How old are you anyway? I bet I could have babysat for you.”
He grinned. “If I tell you, will you tell me?”
“Definitely not.”
