When Gwen stepped outside, she noticed that the porch had been swept. And one of the garden chairs—long wobbly—had been moved inside. Again, Elizabeth didn’t mention handling any of these chores. Gwen didn’t know whether to feel grateful or suspicious. She wasn’t used to this version of Elizabeth.
That afternoon, Gwen returned from the garden and paused in the hallway when she heard Elizabeth on the phone. “Yes, Friday at eleven. Yes, confirmed,” she said. A notepad sat open beside her. When she saw Gwen, she held up the list. “That was the florist—they needed a final headcount.”