Dad . . . what are you doing here?” I asked, giving and receiving hugs. “We got a call that you needed some help,” Mom said. “How are you feeling, honey?” “I’m okay. I wish I could do more, but luckily I have help. Aunt Stella is here with her friends from Boca, and my staff is doing double and triple duty. And the missing Bob has returned. He’s been invaluable.” “Fabulous! It’ll be great to see Stella,” my dad said. Aunt Stella was his sister-in-law. I was glad to see them but hated that they’d interrupted their retirement in Tucson. They were entrenched in the culture of the over-fifty-five crowd in Cactus Wheels, a motor home community: golf, pickle ball, rallies, potluck dinners, dances, and more. They loved it there. “Who called you?” I asked. “Clyde,” Dad said. “We have an agreement that if anything happens to you, he will call me.”
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