I found Evelyn in her sunroom just after six.

The evening light cast long shadows across the slate floor.

She sat in her favorite wicker chair, wrapped tightly in a thick knit shawl.

On the small glass table beside her sat the new auburn hairpiece.

It had cost six thousand eight hundred dollars, custom-made to match the hair she had lost during treatment for her stage three illness.

I pulled up a wooden stool and sat facing her.

“You’re home late,” Evelyn said.