It leaned slightly toward our driveway, and every fall its leaves gathered against both porches as though property lines meant nothing to it.

At nine fifteen, I walked next door.

Mr.

Bennett had arranged for me to hold a key so I could check on the heat and collect mail pending administration.

I stood outside longer than necessary before unlocking the door.

Inside, the house smelled of floor polish, old books, and the peppermint candies Arthur kept in a blue dish.

His wool cardigan hung on the back of the kitchen chair.

There were two clean mugs upside down on the draining board, one of them mine.