I run in the morning and putter around the house before getting a coffee in town and heading to Napa Estates to meet Dad for lunch. I haven’t given up trying to get him to leave the retirement home for lunch and try one of the picturesque restaurants downtown, but so far, he prefers the ease and comfort of meals in the home’s dining room. But Tuesday Dad calls me early, and announces he has plans for me, and I’m needed at his retirement home at eleven as the couple Dad and Edie usually play bridge with aren’t well and so they need to find warm bodies for the game. I’m to be one of the warm bodies. Jerry, the widower from Detroit, is the other. I’ve just been in the yard, weeding, and am still sweaty, with dirt-encrusted nails—a fact I forget until I clap a hand to my forehead and feel grit fall into my eyes. “Dad. Seriously?” “I thought you liked spending time with me.” “I’m not a bridge player.” “You are. You’re just not a good one.” “Even more reason why I shouldn’t play!”
