Rumors intensified when an unfamiliar woman arrived, pale and reserved. She introduced herself politely—a Ms. Anne Carlisle, a colleague from Daniel’s work—and offered condolences. Her presence was small but seismic. Who was she? A worried relative? An old colleague? Maggie’s stomach folded over with the old ache of suspicion.
Neighbors nudged, and hushed theories spread. “She looked at the coffin as if she knew him longer,” someone observed. Maggie found herself watching Anne from the kitchen window, searching for signs of a second life. Anne’s visits were infrequent and formal, but their mere possibility sent Maggie into a spiral.