had remembered the steaks.
The emergency room smelled of antiseptic and damp wool. I stood beside Mom’s bed while a nurse warmed her hands and monitored her breathing.
Three weeks after pneumonia, she still needed an inhaler just to cross a room. Yet Daniel had sent her six blocks through a blizzard because he wanted dinner for his business partner.
“She volunteered,” he said when I called. Glasses clinked in the background. “And don’t embarrass me in front of Marcus.”
I looked at the dark bruise around Mom’s wrist where
