It was enough.

PART 23: The Neighbors’ Promise

Patty and I planted bulbs along the front path that autumn.

She had chosen daffodils; I wanted tulips.

We argued cheerfully about spacing until she announced that any flower that survived our planning deserved a medal.

The green front door had been painted by then, and the porch boards no longer squeaked.

I had patched the little hole behind the hallway coat rack and replaced the lamp Roger disliked because he said it looked old-fashioned.

“It’s funny,” Patty said, pushing soil over a bulb.