So I talked about getting a commercial driver’s license, about choosing the books, about the nonbook items we carried, about our outreach efforts to nursing homes and child development centers, and about the drop-off books we supplied to shut-ins. I could have talked about Graydon’s direction to expand the bookmobile hours and how I had no idea how that was going to work, but in spite of the coffee Bob had supplied, my voice was getting hoarse, and I suspected she wasn’t really interested in the topic, anyway.

“Would you mind?” I asked, nodding at the photo albums. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to see some pictures of Brown.”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” Lindy’s smile dimpled. “The first couple of days I couldn’t bear to look, but now I think I’m ready, right, Bob?”

Bob had settled into the armchair across from us. He eyed Lindy. “Up to you,” he said shortly.

Since I’d missed the window for politely asking what role Bob played in Lindy’s life, I’d had to come up with my own explanation and decided he must be Lindy’s brother. There was a tension in the air that felt like sibling stress. In my experience, there was no other stress quite like it.

“Well, then.” Lindy picked up the top album and opened it. “These are the most recent pictures. Here’s Brown with his new friends. I took this one myself at the beginning of the summer.” The photo was of a group of bicyclists, all smiling and waving at the camera. “There he is, two in from the right.”

I studied the picture and saw a happy man. A man who had no idea he’d be dead within months. “This is a local bike group?”

“From what Brown said, they’re not a formal group. Just a bunch of people that meet up at different spots to ride together. He was so happy to find a group like that. He was hoping to get fit enough to do some really long rides. We were talking about a cross-country trip. I was going to drive the car and while he was riding I’d tour the museums he didn’t care about anyway . . .” Her voice trailed off.

She touched the photo, then closed the album. “I think I’ll look at this one later,” she said, putting it aside and picking up another. “My mother-in-law gave me all sorts of photos before she passed. Aren’t they just adorable?” She pointed to two boys mugging for the camera. The slightly taller one was dressed as a soldier; the other boy was decked out in full firefighter regalia.

Lindy smiled at the photo. “When he was grown, Brown became a volunteer firefighter. I was so proud of him. And Bob here, well, he ended up having a career in the air force.”