I Let Them Throw Me Out Before They Learned What Richard Left Me

and said, “Well. Damn.”

It was such a plain, foolish thing to say that I laughed for the first time since Richard died.

A real laugh. Small, but real.

Emily reached over and squeezed my hand.

Len gathered his papers, neat as ever.

“Mrs. Whitmore,” he said, “what would you like to do about the building in Manhattan?”

I thought about Richard, in his navy raincoat,continue reading …