I Brought Groceries to My Elderly Neighbor Every Sunday for Twelve Years. After His Funeral, His Lawyer Handed Me a Suitcase I Never Expected.

When Richard left, he shook my hand and said he’d come back in the spring.

That time he did.

PART 22

Ten years after the funeral, I turned seventy-four.

My knees complained on cold mornings, and Elise teased me about how long I stood in the hallway deciding which shoes were comfortable enough to wear.

The oak tree between our houses had grown enormous, its branches shading both porches in summer and dropping leaves across the path every October.

The Sterling House had more visitors than I could have imagined on the morning I opened that suitcase.