In October, My Husband Left a Manila Envelope on Our Kitchen Table and Walked Out Into the Rain

“If Greg asks, I didn’t look at his calendar entries.”

When I turned into our driveway at five thirty, my sister Lynn’s red hatchback was parked near the garage doors.

Lynn walked down the concrete path holding a blue ceramic casserole dish wrapped in a kitchen towel.

“I brought chicken casserole,” Lynn called out, adjusting her silver bracelet over and over as she walked.

“You are not going to sit in this house and starve, Claire.”

“I’m in the garage, Lynn,” I called back.