insisted on carving the turkey because he claimed I was “committing an offense against poultry.”
When Emma turned ten, he gave her a small wooden box with her initials carved into the lid.
She still keeps important letters inside it.
When she was thirteen and angry at everyone, Ezra was one of the few adults she willingly spoke to.
One Sunday, she disappeared into his kitchen while I repaired a loose porch railing. She stayed inside for almost an hour.
“What did you say to her?” I asked him later.
“