In October, My Husband Left a Manila Envelope on Our Kitchen Table and Walked Out Into the Rain
“He pretends to complain,” June whispered across the armrest, her eyes bright with affectionate humor.
“But he spends three hours every morning tending the hydrangeas along our back fence.
He even built a cedar bench so we could sit together after dinner.”
“The wood was on sale at the lumber yard,” Walt grunted, turning his head slightly toward the ocean breeze.
“It was either build a bench or let the boards sit in the garage till the termites got them.”
“He paid full price for the wood,” June told me, winking over her glass.
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