“He said he had an early inspection in New Haven,” she answered, buttering two slices of whole wheat bread.

“He took the dark coat.”

I poured the hot water over the brown coffee grounds and watched the foam climb to the rim of the pot.

Ruth picked up the silver knife and cut a green apple into six tidy wedges.

Her reading glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, hanging from a thin silver chain around her neck.

“His fingers were trembling at dinner last night,” she said softly.