Twenty-Two
THE NEXT FEW DAYS ARE about as close to normal as they’ve been in well over a month. Helen, now back at the station part-time, is as happy as I’ve seen her in a while. Her arm’s not bothering her, and her physical therapist is even allowing her to take it out of the sling for a few hours every day and practice using it.
She and I have fallen into a nice pattern. Nate, in his capacity as her special assistant, picks her up from her apartment about 8 a.m., bringing her breakfast of coffee and a cinnamon roll from The Perfect Cup. I come by the station around 11 a.m. and, if she’s ready, take her to the Rectory, where she spends the rest of the afternoon answering the phone and keeping on top of my calendar.
Anna, for her part, is running herself ragged getting ready for the baz
