Six Weeks Later

The bell jingled as Archie opened the front door of the dentist’s office. Instead of taking the bus home, he’d asked Zig’s parents to drop him here. Mom was leaving work early so they could grab dinner, just the two of them.

It had been far too long since they’d played hooky for a few hours. Today, they were sneaking off to try a new burger place between Ithaca and St. Louis. Archie could practically taste the milkshake already.

“Archie!” Zahira called from the front desk. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “How’s that secret project going?”

“Great, actually,” Archie whispered. “The firefighters have been helping a ton.” When he’d told people at the station about his plan, they’d jumped on it like it was a four-alarm fire. They’d shared all kinds of information with Archie and even offered to put him in touch with other people who could help.

“Sweet! Secret handshake time, go!” Zahira held out her fist, which Archie bumped. When she spoke again, her voice was raised so Penny would hear them. “So, you decide to marry me yet?”

“I keep forgetting to ask Mom if it’s okay.”

“Oh, she knows I’d make an awesome daughter-in-law. Right, Penny?”

“Run for your life, Archie,” Mom called from an examination room.

Zahira shook her head. “That’s cold. We don’t need her permission, though. Let’s elope.”

“Cool, I just need to find a ring,” Archie said. “And a job so I can afford a ring.”

Mom appeared from the examination room, leaving the door open behind her. Archie could see a patient lying on one of those weird chairs. Some kind of dentist’s torture gadget was covering his mouth.

“So, the appliance will need to stay in for another twenty minutes, then he’s finished,” Mom said to Zahira. She raised her voice to say, “Have a good evening, Mr. Turner.”

The man in the chair raised two thumbs. “Hoo goo.”

“Thanks,” Mom said like she understood perfectly. “Good night, Zahira.”

“Bye, Penny. Bye, husband, I love you!”

As they headed for the car, Archie said, “I didn’t know you spoke Dentist Patient. What’d he say?”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t even notice it anymore. He said, you too. So, ready for dinner?”

“That burger’s not going to eat itself.”

Mom tucked her phone away. “Aunt Violet made it to the house.”

“Hope she doesn’t try feeding Grandpa one of her tofu steaks again,” Archie said.

They weren’t so bad, but Grandpa couldn’t get used to the texture. Or the fact that they weren’t beef.

“Still, it’s nice that everyone’s helping more,” said Mom. “Clara has been a godsend, but your Grandpa still does better around family, I think.”

That was one change Archie hadn’t liked—or rather, he hadn’t liked that they needed it now. The nurse Aunt Candace had hired came to the house five days per week, plus one or two evenings, to help look after Grandpa. Depending on the day, Grandpa himself varied between being happy to have her company and confused about who she was and why she was in his house.

There had been a couple of scary days when he’d been angry that an intruder had walked through the front door. But some buried part of Grandpa could still remember how the real Raymond Reese treated people. He’d always told Archie, “Respect people, even when you’re not sure they’ve earned it, and the good ones will rise to meet it.” That attitude seemed to have won out with Clara, who treated Grandpa with unfailing patience and understanding. Lately, even when he wasn’t in a welcoming frame of mind, he accepted her presence like she was part of the furniture.

He still had good days when he acted like his old self, when he looked at his photo albums or listened to his favorite music and seemed briefly transformed. But even Archie could see they were happening less often. Now, on the bad days, he needed someone keeping an eye on him at all times, and . . .

Archie pushed away the dark thoughts. This was supposed to be a break—one he and Mom both needed. He made himself refocus on that.

“Totally,” he said, taking a monster bite. His eyes rolled back in his head from flavor overload. “Thith ith the greateth burger ever.”

“So,” Mom said. “You won’t tell us anything? Not even a hint?”

Archie took an extra moment to savor the thick-cut bacon, fried egg, and chipotle cheese sauce. He would definitely have to bring Zig here and get him to recreate it.

“A hint?” He tapped his chin theatrically, as if debating. “Hmm . . .”

It had been six weeks since arm wrestling Spencer, apologizing to Desta, talking honestly with Grandpa, and having his grand epiphany. The subject he’d chosen for the Stone-Katzman Project still felt perfect.

Perfect for Archie, at least. Not everyone would get what he was trying to do. He was determined to follow his own advice to Desta, though, and take a chance. He’d turned in his essay two weeks ago and was now fully focused on the presentation. The others in the group were down to finishing touches, which meant they had plenty of time to help. Desta in particular had jumped in with sunny determination, calling his plan ambitious.

Something had shifted between them after his apology. Whenever they saw each other now, she gave him a big smile, and it felt like they could talk forever without running out of things to say. Whether that would make them more than friends, he still wasn’t sure, and he still hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask. But it was nice.

Mom playfully tossed a fry at him. “Fine, keep your secrets. Turns out I don’t want to know.”

Archie had insisted on keeping the details to himself. Only his study group knew what he was planning, and even they had just the broad strokes. Still, it might be nice to share a little.

“Fine. One hint.”

Mom’s carefully hidden enthusiasm burst into a wide smile. Archie pulled his project folder from his bag and laid one sheet on the table for Mom to see. The paper displayed a diagram.

“Here’s the floor plan for the exhibit hall. Can you guess which project booth is mine?”

Brow furrowed, she studied the diagram. The exhibit hall was divided into four sections, with an open circle in the center to allow for foot traffic. There were aisles between sections, then smaller aisles within each. From above, it resembled the grid pattern of a city. Instead of buildings, there were project booths, each one its own square.

“Hm,” Mom said, eyeing Archie now. “I’m trying to decide if you’d pick a booth near the front just to get it over with, or near the back for dramatic effect.”

“Give up?”

“Never.”

“Fine, then no hint.”

Mom tossed another fry at him. “Spill it!”

“Okay, okay. My booth’s not at the front or the back. It’s here.”

Archie placed the tip of his finger on the center of the sheet, in the circle between the four squares.

“The big space in the middle?” Mom said. “I didn’t think they allowed booths there.”

“They usually don’t, but you know how Blue Sun wants us all to be free spirits. I told Mr. Gertner it would stifle my artistic expression if I couldn’t use that spot. Not the whole thing, just the center.”

“Wow,” Mom said, looking impressed. “You must have something big planned.”

“Well, it’s big to me.”

She smiled. “Then I can’t wait to see it.”

They took their time at dinner, and it still passed too quickly. Until now, Archie hadn’t realized just how tightly wound they had both become this year.

He felt a stab of guilt at enjoying being away from Grandpa—especially now that their relationship had grown so much. Archie was still getting used to seeing Raymond Reese as a human, with flaws and vulnerabilities. As time went on, though, he’d been surprised to realize that truth was more satisfying than fantasy.

He reminded himself it wasn’t Grandpa they were taking a break from—it was the disease. Alzheimer’s was the enemy, and you couldn’t battle an enemy every minute of every day without burning out.

So Archie made himself settle back in the passenger seat and enjoy the ride while Mom navigated toward home. The country backroads were beautiful in the evening light as the sun set behind the trees.

“That’s funny,” Mom muttered.

Rousing, Archie saw they were almost home. Their driveway was coming up, and he could already see their house and its wide green lawn.

“What?” he said.

“That’s Candace’s car. I thought just Violet came tonight.”

“Hm,” Archie said, but didn’t give it much thought. Relaxation had settled into his bones.

When Mom parked, Archie heaved himself out of the car and lumbered toward the front door, ready to collapse on the couch and watch something funny.

The front door opened. Aunt Candace stood there, barking at someone over her shoulder.

“. . . couldn’t have gone too far, unless you somehow managed to—” She broke off at the sight of Mom and Archie, her eyes going wide.

Peering inside, Archie could see that her words had been directed at Aunt Violet—who was crying. She looked terrified.

“Oh,” Aunt Candace said. “You’re back early.”

“Penny, I swear I just turned around for five minutes!” Aunt Violet said.

“Huh?” Mom said.

Uncle Dan appeared from around the side of the house. “He’s not in the shed or—Oh. Hey, you two. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

A fist of ice clutched Archie’s heart and squeezed. He suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“What will?” Mom said.

Aunt Candace pursed her lips, projecting annoyance. But Archie could see genuine fear behind it. “Violet got distracted, and Dad wandered off,” she said. “We can’t find him.”