Twelve Days After My Husband Died, My Neighbor Stripped Every Fruit Tree Bare—Then She Told Me Why

Sometimes pressed his palm against the center of his chest when he thought I was not watching.

One afternoon, he caught me staring.

“Nora.”

“What?”

“Stop worrying.”

“I’m not.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“We’ve been married twenty-seven years and you’re still terrible at lying.”