“She’s still the mother of my girls. I think at this point they’d like to walk away and forget about her but that wouldn’t be good for anyone. Not Hope, not them. Why don’t you sit in with me?”

“I’ll do that, though I don’t know how I’ll help. I’ll try, Frank. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Hope has assets,” he said. “And she has medical benefits—I saw to that. Not because I want to take care of her but because having anything happen to her without resources would just be a burden on the girls. They’re so young. They’re not spoiled.” He laughed abruptly. “I thought Hope must be very spoiled, the way she talked. I was determined to prevent Trude and Bobbi from being like that if I could.”

“She wasn’t spoiled,” Jo said. “She was deprived. At least, I felt she was. Her childhood didn’t resemble mine—my parents were well-to-do. But the man I married couldn’t hold a job to save his life. We struggled constantly. Hope always longed for things other girls her age had, things her richer cousins had. Things she thought I had had. But I fell for an irresponsible man. In the end he was my doom. The doom of everyone.”

“I’m sure you did the best you could,” Frank said.

“I thought so at the time,” she said. “Looking back, I could have done so much better. All I did was blame people. I’ll do what I can to help Hope through whatever it is she’s going through but the important thing to me now is the chance to get to know my granddaughters. My youngest daughter, Beverly, has two children—a boy and a girl. We’re not exactly close but we have a nice relationship. Trude and Bobbi have cousins. I’d just like to get to know them, Frank.”

“I’ll be happy to work on that with you but you’re going to have to remember, the girls live in Pennsylvania.”

“I’ll find a way. And I promise not to crowd them,” she said.

“I’m not sure if I know anything about you and your family,” he said. “I’m not sure what’s fabricated and what’s real. Can you imagine my shock to learn you had a daughter just released from prison?”

Jo laughed slightly. “I’m starting to see the merits of an imaginary life. I’ll be happy to tell you anything, Frank. It’s not really as horrible as it seems on the surface, but it is complicated.”

He looked at his watch. “We have a couple of hours before the doctor will see me.”

She laughed again. “That should get us started.”

* * *

There was not only enough time for Jo to tell Frank whatever he wanted to know about their family but also time for her to learn about his transition from VP of finance to bike shop owner. There were times during their conversation when he had to pause to read and send a text. “Excuse me,” he said a few times. “One of the girls, wanting to know where I am and what I’m doing.”

“Should you go to them?” Jo asked.

“No, they’re fine. I’m right in the same building and they’re safe.”

Jo also learned some very disturbing things about the state of Hope’s marriage. The most upsetting was to hear that for the past six years she would not admit to anyone that they had separated and divorced. “My son is now three years old. You’d think by now she’d recognize my marriage to Pam.”

“Oh, she is in desperate need of help,” Jo said.

“I think you’re going to find she doesn’t want help,” he said.

“That’s the most serious symptom of all,” she said.

When the time came for the appointment with the doctor, Jo and Frank went to an office on the fourth floor. Frank introduced Jo to the doctor, but they didn’t even sit down.

“I’m afraid I’m not able to give you any information on Mrs. Griffin’s condition. We’re very sensitive to issues of confidentiality and Mrs. Griffin hasn’t given permission for either one of you to be informed of her condition or to make medical decisions on her behalf. In fact, the only visitors she has approved so far are her daughters.”

“Wait a minute,” Jo said. She put a hand on Frank’s forearm. “Doctor, will you give us a second?”

“Sure. I’ll be right here.”

Jo stepped into the hallway with Frank and spoke softly. He nodded. Jo gave his hand a fond pat. Then she went back into the doctor’s office alone.

“Can you please give my daughter a message?” Jo asked.

“I’d be happy to.”

“Please tell Hope that I’m available to help her but there will be conditions. Therapy, for one thing. Maybe therapy and medication if that’s what you recommend. But her ex-husband and her daughters are no longer taking her calls. You can tell her the car they were in was a total loss but fortunately her daughters survived without serious injury. So, I guess Hope is on her own unless she wants help from her mother. But I’m not willing to do that unless I have permission to speak with her medical providers. If I’m going to help her and perhaps take care of her, I’ll need to know her medical condition. How long do you imagine you’ll keep her?” Jo finally asked.

“I don’t know,” the doctor said.

“Let me write down my number in case she doesn’t have it.” She pulled one of the doctor’s business cards from its holder on the desk and scribbled her name and number on the back. “I really must get one of those cell phones.” She took a second card for her purse. Then she put out her hand. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“I hope all goes well, Mrs. Hempstead.”

Frank was waiting for her in the hallway. “I don’t know about this,” he said. “I don’t want her homeless, crazy and wandering the streets.”

“I don’t, either. I’ll check on her—I have my own sources. Say, Frank, there’s something you can do for me. I must have one of those cell phones. I’ve made it this long without one but now I find I have to cave in. Something affordable. Can you tell me what to buy? I really don’t have time to do a lot of research.”

“I can do better than that. When Trude and Bobbi are ready to go, we’ll take you to buy one. There are no finer experts than two teenage girls. And it will help you stay in touch with them. They mainly communicate via text.”

“Oh, I’m dangerously behind,” she said.

“You’ll be amazed at how fast you catch on,” he said, dropping an arm around her shoulders.

* * *

A few days later Josephine found her life had changed in a hundred ways. Probably the most shocking was the iPhone. She called Charley, who passed her phone to Krista so they could talk. She called Louise, who answered in shock, amazed that Jo had come so far. She called Hope’s doctor, who said that Hope, unsurprisingly, would like to see her. She called Frank.

She didn’t have to call her granddaughters. They were with her when she picked out the phone, which Frank insisted on buying for her. Then they all went out to an early dinner and giggled helplessly as Jo learned to text, get email and use Google and other fundamentals of cell phone life.

She had an appointment with Dr. Sam Benoit, the psychiatrist. They shook hands and then Jo took her seat in front of his desk. She clutched her purse on her lap in front of her and he smiled reassuringly. “So, all these years without a cell phone and now you’ve become just another slave like the rest of us.”

She smiled back. “That part didn’t take any time at all. My granddaughters taught me to text. After not really knowing them we’re making up for lost time.”

“Do you mind if I ask, how did that happen? No contact with your granddaughters?”

“I was always in contact with Hope, but we weren’t at all close. She left my house and moved in with her grandparents when she was fifteen because they were well-to-do and could give her the lifestyle she wanted. Frankly, I grew tired of her judgment and disapproval and didn’t try very hard to gain her acceptance. When her children came along she told me, not very politely, that she would send pictures and give them my letters but her husband was a very important man and she didn’t want her daughters embarrassed by some of our family issues—predominantly her sister serving a prison sentence for murder. It was self-defense. It was tragic. But twenty-three years have passed and Krista’s home now. Home and I must say emotionally much more stable than poor Hope. But back to your question—it wasn’t true that Frank forbade us to have a relationship.” She laughed uncomfortably. “Frank said he asked about me from time to time. He never even knew about Krista’s prison sentence. I guess that was what Hope intended.”

“People cover up things they find embarrassing,” he said. “I suppose we all do.”

“Is that all that’s wrong with Hope?”

“Not exactly. Hope seems to suffer from a delusional disorder. She knows the difference between fantasy and reality but that’s not likely to impact her interpretation of her life. Not now, anyway. Hope prefers her version of reality even though she knows it’s mostly fabricated. She’s in denial and has many creative excuses. I’ve prescribed a mild antidepressant and she should have therapy. I recommend an inpatient facility for thirty days followed by outpatient therapy. I’d like you to be prepared for something—this has gone on for so long I don’t expect it will be easy to resolve. And in fact, it might never completely resolve. But she’s functional. She’s not a danger to herself or others.”

“Is there something off in her brain?” Jo asked. “Is this a mental illness?”

“It’s borderline. It is identified in the DSM—the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders published by the American Psychiatric Association. It falls into the same category as other disorders that are borderline, like narcissism, jealousy, that sort of thing. It’s not curable but people who seek change through therapy have good results. That’s the rule of thumb in most things—you can’t change people but people can change. They have to want to.”