She asked whether I needed groceries, transportation, or somebody to sit quietly while I cried.

The last offer caught me by surprise.

“I haven’t cried yet,” I admitted.

Nina pulled out a chair.

“You don’t have to do it on schedule.”

The third call had been to Samuel Price, whom everybody called Sam.

When he was in college, he’d come over for leftovers after his night classes.

He became a financial investigator specializing in corporate fraud, though he still ate peanut-butter sandwiches standing over the sink.