She asked for the corner booth, the one that faced the door.

Helen, my grandmother’s next-door neighbor for thirty years, ordered coffee and stirred it until it went cold.

“I’m not here to pick sides,” she said.

“You’re the one who called me.”

“I called you about the association meeting back in September.” She set the spoon on the saucer.

“Robert stood up in the fellowship hall and told that entire room that you left your grandmother alone for her last two years.”

“I was in Kabul, Helen.”