Someone delivered groceries.
Grace knew immediately who had sent them.
She called Arthur and made him take half back.
He argued.
She won.
That impressed me.
For the next week, Grace recovered while Annie and I watched her like suspicious nurses.
Every morning, Helen called.
Every afternoon, food appeared from somewhere.
Sometimes it came from Mrs. Alvarez, Arthur’s housekeeper, who claimed she had “accidentally cooked too much.”
Grace never believed her.
Neither did I.
But she stopped sending it back.
On Saturday, Grace finally let us return to Arthur’s garden.
She came with us.
“I’m supervising.”
“You’re supposed to rest,” I said.
“I can supervise sitting down.”
Arthur had placed a chair beneath the maple tree before we arrived.
Grace stared at it.
“He knew you were coming,” Annie said.
Grace muttered something about difficult old men.
Arthur appeared on the porch.
“You’re late.”
“It’s nine o’clock.”
