PART 10

There was another notebook in the suitcase, thinner than the leather journal.

It was filled with Evelyn’s handwriting: recipes, names of neighbors, dates when someone needed a ride to a clinic, notes about allergies and birthdays.

Near the back were pages headed Sunday Table.

Evelyn had believed a kitchen table should always have one more chair than a household required.

During the years when their hardware store did well, she hosted dinner once a month for people who lived alone.