Michael set his paper cup on my oilcloth tablecloth, leaving a wet black ring right over a faded yellow daisy. He had not used a coaster, though he knew Clara always kept them in the small drawer by the stove.
“Evelyn,” he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register that usually made me feel as if everything would be taken care of. “Do you remember the lake cabin the summer we turned twelve?”
I touched my bare ring finger, rubbing the spot where my skin felt thin and dry. “We stayed there for six weeks because Clara had the measles.”
He adjusted his silver watch strap, sliding his fingers under the metal band before letting it snap back against his wrist. “And that was the year your father signed the cabin over to the two of you, wasn’t it?”
“I believe so,” I said, pausing to let the kitchen clock tick three times before I spoke. “Why do you ask?”
He did not answer right away, instead taking a slow sip of the cold black coffee. The silence in the kitchen felt heavy, stretching between us like a pulled wire.
I watched him look around my kitchen, his eyes lingering on the shelf where I kept the good china Clara had given me when I retired from the school library. “I was just thinking about how happy she was up there by the water.”
“She loved the lake,” I said.
“Did your father leave the deed in the safe deposit box, or is it still kept in the cabin closet?” he asked, his tone perfectly casual.
I paused, my hand dropping to my lap. “I honestly don’t remember, Michael.”
He smiled, but his fingers went back to his watch strap, tightening it by one notch. “We should go up there next weekend and look for it, just to make sure everything is in order.”
I did not answer, turning instead to look at the cold coffee spot darkening the yellow daisy on my table.
“The cabin belongs to both of us now,” he added, his voice soft. “Since Clara’s half passed to me, we really ought to keep the paperwork together.”
Michael set his paper cup on my oilcloth tablecloth, leaving a wet black ring right over a faded yellow daisy. He had not used a coaster, though he knew Clara always kept them in the small drawer by the stove.
“Evelyn,” he said, his voice dropping into that smooth, low register that usually made me feel as if everything would be taken care of. “Do you remember the lake cabin the summer we turned twelve?”
I touched my bare ring finger, rubbing the spot where my skin felt thin and dry. “We stayed there for six weeks because Clara had the measles.”
He adjusted his silver watch strap, sliding his fingers under the metal band before letting it snap back against his wrist. “And that was the year your father signed the cabin over to the two of you, wasn’t it?”
“I believe so,” I said, pausing to let the kitchen clock tick three times before I spoke. “Why do you ask?”
He did not answer right away, instead taking a slow sip of the cold black coffee. The silence in the kitchen felt heavy, stretching between us like a pulled wire.
I watched him look around my kitchen, his eyes lingering on the shelf where I kept the good china Clara had given me when I retired from the school library. “I was just thinking about how happy she was up there by the water.”
“She loved the lake,” I said.
“Did your father leave the deed in the safe deposit box, or is it still kept in the cabin closet?” he asked, his tone perfectly casual.
I paused, my hand dropping to my lap. “I honestly don’t remember, Michael.”
He smiled, but his fingers went back to his watch strap, tightening it by one notch. “We should go up there next weekend and look for it, just to make sure everything is in order.”
I did not answer, turning instead to look at the cold coffee spot darkening the yellow daisy on my table.
“The cabin belongs to both of us now,” he added, his voice soft. “Since Clara’s half passed to me, we really ought to keep the paperwork together.”
