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

She shook her head.

“Start before all that,” she said.

“Start when you saw him carrying the bags.”

So I did.

I told her about Arthur standing in his driveway, refusing help at first because he was embarrassed.

I described the coffee that was too strong, the photograph of Evelyn, the long conversation that surprised us both.

I admitted that I sometimes complained about the Sunday routine and that I wasn’t always patient.

“Did you ever imagine he would leave you the house?” Maya asked.