Chapter 15

Two weeks after

DATE FOUR

Mr. Oliver lifted his cup to his mouth and took a drink. Sunlight reflected off his glasses as he slightly
lowered his head, pulled the cup away from his mouth, and sat it on the table with a shaky hand.

"So, you are Summer's little sister?"

Spring smiled. She and Mr. Oliver spoke for over thirty minutes already. He talked about his wife mostly
and she talked about...Dezmond. He was all she could think about still, a little over two weeks later, so
she shared. What they didn't discuss yet was who she was.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry she wasn't able to keep your date."

"If she had, I wouldn't have gotten to meet you." He winked. "How is she feeling?"

Spring moved her stirrer around in her coffee. "Better. She should be out and about within a day or so.
She just didn't want to risk your health."

"Mrs. Waltman, please..."

Spring looked past Mr. Oliver to where a nurse was running after a woman who was presumably Mrs.
Waltman.

"Betty is a runner," Mr. Oliver said, looking over his shoulder. He chuckled.

"I see," Spring said then laughed.

"You'd be surprised at how many residents here can. Pudding nights, it's like a circus."



Spring laughed again as she imagined elderly men and women run amuck at bedtime because they
were hopped up on pudding. By the way, Mrs. Waltman dodged the nurse, it was clear that the staff at
the assisted living home had to be somewhat fit to keep up.

"Mr. Oliver, may I ask how long you've known Summer?"

Mr. Oliver sat back and looked up as if trying to recall an exact date. He smiled then focused on Spring.
"I started as her client. She was going by the name of Brittney. You see, my wife Clara passed a couple
of years before then and I was still mourning. So, in my grief, I made a promise to my dead wife.

"Clara kept begging me to take up dancing with her when she was alive. I needed a partner and I had
no friends, so I decided to hire a partner. Your sister and I danced together every other week for three
months. The first dance class of that fourth month, Summer refused to take another dime from me.
Said that we were friends and friends don't pay to spend time with each other."

"Summer never told me all that."

He shrugged. "Do you tell her everything?"

Spring shook her head.

"Well, there you go." Mr. Oliver tapped his leg. "That was two years ago," he said. "I don't dance much
anymore. But Summer still visits every other week."

Spring was about to respond when a drop of water hit her arm. She raised her chin and moved her
head back to look up into the sky. A drop of rain hit her face.

"I'll grab the drinks, you push," Mr. Oliver said.

Spring stood just as Mr. Oliver grabbed hold of their drinks. She unlocked his wheelchair and pulled it
and Mr. Oliver from under the table. The sky opened up as she ran, pushing the wheelchair as fast as



she could to reach the wide French patio doors of the assisted living home before they were soaked.

"Thank you," Spring said to a woman holding towels just inside the entrance.

"Here you go, young one," Mr. Oliver said.

Spring looked down to see him handing her the cup of coffee. "Thanks," she said, then looked around.
"So, what do you all do for fun?" The room was full of people who were just outside in the beautiful
garden.

"If you're any good at cards...," a woman said as she walked up to them.

"How about it, Mr. Oliver? You any good at cards?" Spring grinned.

----------

SPRING

"For the love of God, Summer, cover your mouth," Spring begged. She gave her sister the sternest look
she could produce and as always Summer waved her off. But instead of a look of dismissal, Summer's
face was pinched with irritation. It was a look that Spring hardly saw from her sister.

"What all happened?" Summer asked for the hundredth time. When Spring didn't respond, Summer
added, "I'll cover my mouth if you tell me."

"You should cover your mouth because it's common courtesy and good hygiene."

Summer rolled her eyes then coughed into her hand that held a ball of tissues. It was a fake cough.
Spring knew her big sister was never going to pick up the habit, not after twenty-four years of doing it
her way. In the Lafayette family, you definitely had to pick your battles.



"Nothing...I already told you." Spring pushed up out of the chair she claimed as her own since moving
into her sister's apartment. It was comfy and used to be their grams. Being as she was her grams'
favorite, in her mind, the chair should be hers and not Summer's.


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