As we pulled up to Dawes House, the happiness we’d enjoyed all day was immediately dampened by an ambulance parked out front.
“Kitty?” I asked. “I hope nothing’s wrong with her or the baby.”
Whit shook his head, his jaw clenched, his hardened, aloof expression back in place. “No,” he said, his tone terse. “It’s not Kitty.”
As we sat in the car, two EMTs exited the house with a gurney, a sheet covering the occupant’s face.
“Oh, God,” I breathed, reaching for Whit’s hand.
“It’s Mr. Dean,” he said, his voice flat, expressionless as the EMTs loaded the body into the ambulance and slammed the doors.
I turned my attention back to him, frowning. “How do you know?”
He shook his head and released my hand to unbuckle his seatbelt. “I just do.”
Before I could respond, Whit got out of the car and opened Addie’s door, rousing her just enough to lift her into his arms. She sleepily blinked a few times then put her head back down on his shoulder.
I started to get Henry out of the car, but Whit called out, “Just leave him, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a minute to help you.”
I nodded, not really used to needing help, but my knees went weak, my stomach aching at the thought of Mr. Dean’s passing.
Neither of us spoke as Whit and I made our way into the house a few minutes later. Inside was just as silent even though the residents had all gathered in the game room. I glanced in as we passed. They seemed more solemn than sad. There were no tears for Mr. Dean. Perhaps a testament to his irascible personality. But it seemed odd to me that the same group who had so happily celebrated Mr. Dean’s birthday did not in any way mourn his death.
Once Henry and I were settled, Whit dropped a distracted kiss to the top of my head. “I should go,” he said abruptly. “I need to talk to the others about Mr. Dean.”
I nodded. “Okay. Let me know what the arrangements are.”
His brows twitched together briefly. “A funeral, you mean? I doubt there will be one. He didn’t have any family around.”
“What aboutthisfamily? Here at Dawes House?” I asked. “You all keep telling me that we’re family here. Why would you not hold a memorial service, at least?”
Whit’s expression softened, and he took my hand, pulling me to him. “You’re right,” he murmured. “Of course, we’ll do something for him.”
He kissed me once more, gentle and lingering this time, but still seemed distracted. I watched him as he strode toward the elevator, puzzled by the tension in the air at Dawes House. Maybe Mr. Dean didn’t have any life insurance, and they were concerned about how to handle his burial. Or maybe they were worried about who might take over his apartment.
“Mama, did Mr. Whit leave?”
I started at the sound of Henry’s voice and spun around, forcing a smile. “Hey, baby. Yes, he had to go. Did you have fun today?”
Henry nodded and climbed up on the couch. “Yes, ma’am. Is Mr. Whit your boyfriend now?”
I laughed in a short burst, surprised by the abrupt question. “Well, I…uh…I don’t know. We’ll see what happens.” I sat down next to him. “Would it be okay with you if he was?”
Henry shrugged. “Sure. I like him even though he’s super old.”
“Super old?” I laughed. “He’s not thatmuch older than I am! Am I super old?”
Henry giggled. “No! Notsuperold…”
I scoffed with mock offense. “What?! Oh, you’re gonna get it, mister!” I said, tickling his belly.
He screeched with laughter and leapt from the couch, running away to his bedroom. I started to call out to him not to run because Mr. Dean wouldn’t like it but caught myself.
“Mama,” Henry called, giggling. “You can’t get me!”
I hopped up and rushed toward him, my eyes narrowed and fingers curled. Henry cackled with delight and started to close the door on me, but I caught him up and twirled him around before plopping him down on his bed and falling down beside him.
I gave him a big hug. “Mama loves you.”
