"Of course." Here it comes, he thought. The thing everybody asks.
"If those dates are right, then he has to be—what?—at least sixty years old. But in the picture he doesn't look a day over forty‑five. So what's going on?"
"Ally, you're finally getting it." He rattled the ice in his Dewar's, then finally took a deep sip. Maybe, he thought, it would help with the courage. "He's a truly amazing human being."
"That's not an answer, Grant. It's a generality." She exhaled in obvious exasperation. "But I want an honest answer about one thing, dammit. Do you actually think he could help Mom's Alzheimer's? Maybe even reverse it? Tell me the truth. Just once."
"Ally, I can't guarantee anything. But it's worth a shot."
Now, he thought hopefully, she was sounding like she was starting to come around. Thank God. As for whether Dr. Vee could cure the old bird who knew? But he'd overheard the nurses talking about how he and his research staff had had some phenomenal luck with Alzheimer's. . . .
"By the way, what happened when you talked to Mom?" he went on. "Did she seem like she understood anything I told her?"
"Grant, she probably understood a lot more than you wanted her to. The bad part is, she let you give her some hope. Now, what's going to happen if she goes out there and ends up being disappointed?"
It's a real possibility, he told himself. But it's probably the only way I'll ever get you out there, and that's what really matters.
"Ally, we'll never know unless ... You should go too."