His eyes moved toward my house, then back to me.
« You must be Greta. »
The fact that he knew my name unsettled me.
« And you’re Alex. »
He nodded.
« How is Dorothy? » I asked.
« She’s good. »
« I haven’t seen her outside lately. »
« She’s been tired. »
His tone remained polite, but there was something guarded about him. Before I could continue, he walked toward an old car parked near the curb and drove away.
Over the next two weeks, I never saw Dorothy outside.
Not once.
I saw Alex coming and going almost every day.
Sometimes he arrived in the morning and stayed for hours. Other times, his car remained in Dorothy’s driveway overnight.
