“We’re here if you need us,” Levi seconded, grinning.

“Thanks,” Connor said.

“I’m never going back!” Mrs. Piller yelled. “And you can’t make me! I have a cane! I will hit you! I will hit you hard!”

Connor looked at Jess, who seemed to be enjoying herself. She was wearing a cute little white shirt and cropped jeans, canvas shoes on her feet.

As ever, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He was done with dating, he decided then and there. He’d rather be alone than with someone who wasn’t Jess. He didn’t want kids if she wasn’t going to be their mother. He’d be Uncle Con, and a great brother to Savannah and Colleen, and Paulie Petrosinsky, for that matter.

The decision made him feel strangely lighter.

“Let’s go get her,” Jessica said.

“Don’t you dare!” Mrs. Piller said. There was a rustle of leaves and a flash of bluish-white skin as she scurried from one tree to another.

“Mrs. Piller, we just want to make sure you’re okay,” Jessica said. “Can I come closer?”

“Only if you want a cane in your eye.”

Connor grinned. Had to admire the old lady’s spirit. “How about if we just hang out for a while?” he suggested. “Just the three of us.”

“I don’t trust women,” came the answer.

“Me neither,” he said, looking at Jess and feeling his mouth tug. “How about just us two, Mrs. Piller? You and me?”

There was a pause. “All right.”

“Out you go, Jessica,” he said.

“You sure? I don’t want her to hurt you.”

“I have a thing for women who hurt me, as you well know.” She smiled in response, always a good sport.

“Good luck, you big hero,” she said, and she left, closing the French doors behind her. “This is not a show, people,” he heard her say to the rest of the squad. “Give me that phone, Ned.”

Maybe Connor and Jess really could be friends. They’d known each other too long not to like each other anymore. If it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest every time he saw her, then so be it. Being friends with her was better than dating Not Jessica.

He walked slowly toward where he thought Mrs. Piller was. She was stroking the petals of an orchid, naked as the day she was born. Her knees were swollen with arthritis, and, well, gravity had taken its toll on just about everything. A wave of sympathy rolled over him. If this had been his grandmother, he’d want her to be treated with dignity.

“How was your day, Mrs. Piller?” he asked, walking slowly toward her.

“Call me Arlene. It wasn’t my best,” she said.

“Any reason?”

“I just... I get sick of needing people. I hate people.”

“Me, too.” She held her cane, but it seemed like her batting impulse was over. “Hi,” he said, extending his hand. “Connor O’Rourke.”

She didn’t shake it. “That’s a nice name. I’ll still hit you if you try to catch me, but that’s a fine Irish name.”

“On behalf of my mother, thank you.” She smiled at that. Didn’t seem demented to him. He started unbuttoning his shirt. “How about if you put this on?” He shrugged out of it and offered it to her.

She looked him up and down. “Very nice.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you lift weights?” she asked, struggling to her feet.

“Sometimes. Let me help you with that.” He pulled his shirt around her. Her hands were shaky with age or exertion; he buttoned it up, relieved not to have to see her naked anymore. Not because she was old...just because it was so personal. The shirt hung down to her knees, she was so tiny and frail.

“I suppose you’re going to put me in a straitjacket and tie me into a wheelchair now.”

“Not really my thing,” he said. “But we could talk if you want.”

“I’m too exhausted to run anymore. Go ahead, lock me up in this hellhole if you want.”

“I’m good. Can you tell me where we are and what day it is?”

“We’re in death’s waiting room,” she said, and Connor couldn’t help a laugh.

“How about the town?” he asked.

“We’re in Manningsport at Rushing Creek—there’s no creek that I can see, by the way. And it’s May something. In hell, all the days run together.”

“Fair point. Any pain anywhere? Did you fall down or hurt yourself?”

“No.”

“And as for being naked and running around the place, got an answer for that?”

“Because I hate being called honey by some know-it-all seventy years younger than I am. Thought I’d shake things up a little and rebel.”

Connor laughed again.

“It’s not funny, young man.”

“It’s pretty funny.” She gave him a begrudging smile. He looked around. “I didn’t expect to see so many flowers in hell. Even more than in my yard.”

“Do you live in a nice place?”

She was lonely. And he could see it, having to come live here, maybe not by choice. Having staffers treat you with kindness, but maybe not respect. “My house is a two-family Victorian,” he said. “It’s got a nice front porch, and an apartment upstairs. I bought it because I wanted to marry a nice girl and have her brother live with us.”

“She turned you down, did she?”

“She did. So now it’s just me.”

“You should get a dog.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“I like dachshunds myself.”

“They’re okay.”

“I suppose you like the big, manly breeds.” She gave his torso another appreciative look. He smiled at her.

She sighed. “I’m ready to go back, Connor O’Rourke. Thank you for treating me like a person.”

He stood up and offered his hand. “It was very nice meeting you. Maybe I can come back and visit you.”

“Are you hitting on me, as you young people call it?”

“Would you have me?”

She laughed merrily. “No! You’re young enough to be my great-grandson.”

“Why don’t you give me your cane and take my arm and appreciate how young and strong I am?” he said.

“You’re quite the flirt.”

“Only with women of a certain age.”

“It’s my lucky day, then,” she said, and she handed over the cane and held on to his arm. He led her through the sunroom to where the onlookers were waiting.

“Mrs. Piller,” began a nurse in a sharp tone.

“Arlene has had a hard day,” Connor said.

“It got better when you stripped for her,” Ned quipped, and everyone laughed, even Mrs. Piller. Connor winked at her and helped her into the wheelchair.

“I suppose you want your shirt back,” she said.

“You keep it,” he answered. “I’ll get it when I come visit you.”

Her eyes, surrounded by wrinkles and sagging skin, lit up like a little girl’s at a birthday party.

Mrs. Piller was wheeled away, and Connor had the impression she’d be something of a hero today, whacking the staff, streaking, flirting with a young stud such as himself.