She had white hair cut short around her ears and the kind of lively expression that made strangers smile back before she spoke.

A jar of raspberry jam waited beside her coffee.

“You didn’t have to bring another jar,” I told her.

“I know,” she replied.

“That’s why it’s a gift.”

The conversation began awkwardly.

Rose asked about my work; I asked about hers.

We talked about old furniture, favorite books, and the strangely stubborn way Madeline used to line up mugs with their handles pointing in exactly the same direction.