“He did what the household needed,” Evelyn said.

She picked up her purse, zipped it closed, and carried it out to the front hall without meeting my eyes.

Richard called my name from the side door.

I went into the attached garage, where the air was cold and smelled of lawnmower gas and damp sawdust.

Grandfather Arthur’s wooden tool chest sat on the bottom shelf under the workbench, hidden beneath a gray canvas tarp.

Richard stood next to the heavy steel vise, holding a folded sheet of white paper in his right hand.