Kettle?”

“She’s seventy-nine.

She said she would rather have a quiet tenant than a rich one.”

I set the lease down and put the salt shaker on the corner of it so the draft from the back door would not take it.

“You’ll want a lamp for that window.”

“I have a lamp.”

“You’ll want a better one.”

I went to the pantry for the jar of green beans she had asked for, and the old ash bat was back on its nail, and I stood there a second with my hand on the shelf.