“Most wives in this town would gripe about cold suppers every single night.”

“I just want to be sure an old man is being looked after the way he should be,” I said, glancing at the brass key ring lying beside his sleeve.

“I look after my own flesh and blood just fine,” Bob said, tapping the silver latch on his lunchbox before he turned for the back door.

He went down the wooden porch steps to his sedan without looking back through the kitchen windows.

I stood at the sink with my warm mug and watched his car turn right at the corner of Maple Street, bound for the hardware store on Main.