“You always hated yard work,” Claire said.
“I still hate yard work.”
For once, nobody cried.
Noah smiled.
Aaron dug the hole.
Noah lowered the hydrangea into it.
I went across the street and filled a watering can.
For once, nobody cried.
There was no final revelation waiting for us.
Nobody discovered another secret.
There was no final revelation waiting for us.
Just four people standing in a yard that had once belonged to a lonely man who apparently understood something about all of us.
Mr. Vance had never been good at saying what he felt.
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