My grandson was running back from the car, waving the birthday card he’d made for his mother.
The woman looked toward him.
“Don’t open this in front of him.”
I stared at her.
“Who are you?”
“Don’t open this in front of him.”
“My name is Trudy.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“I knew Teagan at the hospital. I was her nurse.”
My stomach turned.