It sat in the dark, resting quietly out of sight.

I climbed down and folded the step stool flat.

“She waged a vicious war,” Arthur said.

“But she won.”

“We both did,” I said.

I walked back to the cardboard box and took out a small bundle of tissue paper.

Arthur leaned against the counter and watched me peel the thin white paper back.

Inside the wrapping was Beatrice’s embroidered cloth napkin.