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“I’m not, but she’s sweet, and besides, the woman I’m most attracted to is married.”

Did he mean me? What a dope—of course he meant me. He reached across the table and gently took my hand, and our eyes met. I knew I shouldn’t be holding hands with another man in a public place. Well, anywhere for that matter. But I didn’t let go. Staring into his eyes, I felt vulnerable and emotional.

“You said you didn’t want to talk about your dad, but if you tell me what happened, maybe I can help,” he said.

“Thanks, but there’s nothing anyone can do. My dad’s condition is bad, and I haven’t had time to come to terms with it, not that I could anyway.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through this. He seems like a nice man.”

“He was … is.” I let go of Michael’s hand and wiped away tears that started forming. “What was your dad like?” I asked.

“Tough, and hard on me. He was a journalist and the reason I became a writer. He was also the reason I never thought I was good enough.” He gave me a sad smile.

“Would I know him?”

“Rick Sanders.”

“He wrote that book about the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal.”

“Yeah.”

“My mother’s always been hard on me,” I said.

“Is this a competition?” he asked, smirking. “If it is, I win.”

“We’ll see about that once you get to know me better.”

“I’d like to get to know you better,” he said, leering at me. “And I’d love to stay here with you all day, but I have to go back and check on my mom.” We stood up. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

“What choice do I have?”

As we walked out, he held the door open for two elderly women who were slowly making their way in. They thanked him profusely.

When we got back to Brooklawn, we found my father and Charlotte in the dining room having tea. They were laughing like teenagers on a date. Michael was relieved to see his mom happy. I was horrified to see my father, who had never been a flirt, batting his eyes and leaning into her like a lovesick puppy.

“Hi,” I said hesitantly, not sure if he would still think I was an imposter.

“Hi,” he said. “This is my new friend Charlotte. We were just getting to know each other.” I couldn’t tell if he knew who I was.

“Isaac, this is my son, Michael,” Charlotte said to my dad. Michael shook his hand, and no one commented that they’d met before.

A nurse came over to us. “Mr. Rubin, your wife called. She’ll be here soon. Do you want to go back to your room?”

“You must be mistaken, young lady,” he said to the nurse, who was in her fifties. “I’m not married.”

I abruptly turned and walked out without saying anything. I couldn’t stand here and listen to this. Michael said goodbye to his mother, told her he’d be back tomorrow, then went after me. I ran to my car. When Michael caught up, he motioned for me to roll down my window.

“He’s been married to the love of his life for forty-eight years, and he has no memory of her,” I said. “This damn disease has taken him away, and he’s never coming back.” I was enraged as much as I was sad, and I was embarrassed that I was spilling my feelings all over him.

“Come with me.” He opened my door, took me by the arm, and helped me out of the car.

“I need to go home,” I said.

“You need a distraction. We’ll go to the lake. Three baby ducks were just born there.”

“I can’t.”

“It’s only three ducks. We’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” He led me to his van, and I got inside. It smelled of old french fries and Axe cologne. “I’m sorry about my mom,” he said apologetically. “She hasn’t had a man pay attention to her since my father died.” Michael steered the van out of the parking lot and onto the open road.