“Your grandfather and I had terrible disagreements.

We were married fifty-one years.

I wouldn’t want one ugly hour to define all of it.”

“I wouldn’t either,” I said.

“But Brandon has to decide what this means for him.

You don’t have to solve their marriage.”

At her house I helped her out of the car and walked her up the three brick steps.

Inside, her kitchen looked as though a small bakery had been hit by a storm.