rs. Angela Goodman, Charlotte's Aunt, arrived early Saturday morning at the Silver Bow County Airport. Charlotte despaired in her room while Charlton went to meet his sister-in-law at the airport.

It was no great difficulty for Angela to recognize Charlton. His light brown hair had not grayed; the blue eyes that her sister Martha had so admired were not faded; his rugged good looks were as handsome as ever; his six foot three inch frame had never looked stronger; in short, he was the picture of robust health. Despite Angela's mental preparation for this meeting, his healthy appearance caught her momentarily off guard.

"How could anyone so young as Chuck, (he was forty-two), have Alzheimer's?" she asked herself, as Charlton approached her at the gate.

"Hello, Angela," greeted Charlton somberly.

"Chuck," nodded Angela in acknowledgment. "How are you?" she asked, her voice filling with sympathy and pity. Charlton attempted a careless shrug, as if to say that the recent events hadn't fazed him one bit.

"The car's this way," he motioned toward the parking lot. "We better start back. Charlie's waiting," he explained.

"Of course," replied Angela.

"Don't we need to get your gear first?" asked Charlton pointing toward the luggage conveyor belt.

"Gear? Oh, you mean baggage," reasoned Angela, out loud. "I didn't bring anything with me. I think I can have Charlotte packed and ready to take the return flight with me by this evening," she replied. Charlton's face fell. He had hoped to at least have Charlotte until Monday morning.

"I see," was all he could say.

The short trip back to the apartment was quiet, except for the occasional polite remark from Angela about the scenery. All too soon for Charlton, the drive was over.

"Angela," said Charlton, "before we go in, I have a favor to ask."

"Of course," replied Angela, half afraid that Charlton had changed his mind about the arrangement.

"Charlie doesn't know about my... my problem," he explained. "I would appreciate it if you could keep it from her. It would only upset her."

"Of course," repeated Angela, relieved that he hadn't changed his mind.

As they approached Charlton's apartment, Angela's face grew puzzled.

"Do you hear music?" she asked.

"It's coming from our apartment," observed Charlton. When he opened the front door, music blared from Charlie's room. Amazingly, her door was closed.