“I’m sorry?”
“Room 214. There used to be a small window. In the back wall. It looks out at the courtyard. At the cherry tree.” Grandma nodded toward the window behind us. “That cherry tree. Is it still there? The window?”
Kayla looked confused. “Yes. I believe so. It’s one of the only rooms on that floor with a courtyard view. Patients ask for it all the time.”
Grandma smiled faintly.
“Good,” she said. “I always hoped they’d keep it.”
Kayla gave her a strange look.
“Do you work here, ma’am?”
“Not anymore.”
“Then how do you know about that window?”
Grandma hesitated.
She looked out at the rainy courtyard. At the bare cherry tree with its shiny, wet branches. She looked at it for so long that I thought she wasn’t going to answer.
“Because I paid to put it there,” she said.
Kayla stared at her.
