I was washing dishes when my elder son ran into the kitchen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMom, I saw Dad with\u2026 Mrs. Evelyn.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mrs. Evelyn\u2014our wealthy, elegant neighbor. First, she paid for our groceries. Then, she hired my husband for repairs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTell me what exactly happened!\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo I went to Mrs. Evelyn\u2019s house to give the tools my dad forgot. The door was open, so I peeked inside. SHE WAS HUGGING HIM, Mom. And Dad just stood there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mrs. Evelyn clasped her hands together. \u201cA few years ago, my son passed away. He was in his early thirties, a hardworking man who always believed in giving back to others. Dylan\u2026 he has a certain look in his eyes, a kindness, that reminds me so much of my son. It\u2019s silly, but sometimes I can\u2019t help\u2026 feeling comforted when he\u2019s around. I was thanking him for fixing a leaky pipe in my basement and, in a moment of weakness, I hugged him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The tears in her eyes looked genuine. My heart sank at the realization that I might\u2019ve judged her too quickly. Still, I pressed on. \u201cWhy would you pay for our groceries?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mrs. Evelyn managed a weak smile. \u201cBecause I know times have been tough for you. Dylan opened up a little when he was here. He didn\u2019t ask for help, but I noticed the holes in his tool kit bag, the worry lines on his face. When I offered to pay, he only accepted because I insisted. I just\u2026 wanted to do something good. He told me you were determined to handle things on your own, so I tried to be discreet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I leaned back in the armchair, my eyes drifting over the ornate paintings on the walls. I realized I had jumped to the worst conclusion. The expensive groceries, the \u201ccozying up\u201d to my husband\u2014it wasn\u2019t some cunning plan to steal him away. It was a lonely woman\u2019s attempt to reach out, to connect, to find a surrogate for the son she\u2019d lost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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