For Seven Years I Sent Forty Thousand Dollars Every January, Until Emma Finally Spoke

The smell of rosemary and butter filled the whole ground floor.

“We need to use the good china today,” Eleanor said.

“The floral plates from the hutch.”

“It’s just a regular Sunday lunch,” I said.

“Now let’s take a breath,” Eleanor said.

“Mark is making the effort to come over early.

We’re going to wipe the slate clean.”

I rinsed the carrots, set them on a wooden cutting board, and chopped them into thick pieces.