George Brought a Sealed Legal Folder to His Son’s Wedding in an Atlanta Hotel
I drove home at one o’clock and found Evelyn in the sunroom.
The late autumn light warmed the wide glass panels, casting long shadows across the polished floor.
Evelyn sat on the floral cushioned bench, wearing her blue silk scarf.
She was looking out at the bare oak trees in our backyard.
I went into the kitchen first and poured two cups of warm lemon tea.
When I brought the ceramic mugs into the sunroom, Evelyn smiled.
The public humiliation on the hotel stage had drained the color from her face, but she looked peaceful sitting in the quiet afternoon sun.
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