I married a lonely elderly woman for her money and a roof over my head. But after her funeral, her attorney gave me a box and said, “She told me this is what you truly wanted.”

Three months later, I came downstairs before sunrise and found Evelyn sitting at the kitchen table.

Two cups of coffee waited between us.

She had already dressed.

“You’re up early,” I said.

“So are you.”

“I have a site meeting.”

“I know.”

There was an envelope beside her hand.

I noticed it but did not ask.

Evelyn studied my face.

“Are you happy here?”

The question surprised me.

“With you?”

“With your life.”

I thought about it.

Then, for once, I answered without calculation.

“Yes.”

Her eyes softened.

“Good.”

I walked behind her chair and kissed the top of her head.

“I’ll be home before six.”

Evelyn caught my wrist before I could leave.

“Michael.”