“He was.”

She told me Evelyn had once organized winter meals from this very kitchen, calling women from the block when somebody was ill.

Arthur had delivered supplies in his pickup truck.

For years afterward, older neighbors still found bags of groceries on their porches when snow made shopping impossible.

“Arthur never mentioned that,” I said.

“He wouldn’t,” she replied.

“He had a stubborn idea that kindness stopped being kindness if you talked too much about it.”

She stayed for an hour.