She left the Prewitts not long after that Thanksgiving; there was nothing left in that house she wanted to keep clean.

We stayed in touch, and then more than in touch.

She’s flown out to see us twice.

The second time she stayed a week and sat on this terrace in the mornings with her own cup of coffee, and my daughters call her by her first name and hug her at the door, and I have told her, more than once, that she is the reason there was a truth to come home to at all.

She waves it off every time. I only opened a door, she says.