Grant watched him drive off. He’d made a friend of sorts, a thought that cheered him. He went back in the hardware store and, spontaneously, bought the same grill. He felt oddly as though the man—Cox—were performing ventriloquism on him. The grill they owned was fine. Small, gas powered, but fine. He offered his credit card. “Davenport-Gardner,” he said, giving the clerk their new address, for delivery.

FROM HIS SPOT IN THE YARD, NEAR THE LITTLE STUMP OF WHAT HAD been Jillian’s red maple, Ted could see all the chores he ought to have been doing—cleaning the gutters, trimming the bushes, seeding the grass. But he didn’t get up. He sat on the ground, legs crossed. It must nearly be noon, judging by the sun’s angle and the hollowness of his stomach, he thought, when Jillian came out into the yard with a plate. “For me?” he said, seeing the sandwich and brightening.

“No.” She took a bite. Turkey, lettuce, and tomato. Or was it that Tofurky stuff that Allison liked? Ted looked at Jillian the way Candy did, with sad, pleading eyes. Jillian rolled her eyes and gave him half.

They ate in silence. Companionable silence, Ted thought, but Jillian furrowed her brow when she finally spoke.

“Are you okay, Dad?”

“Sure, hon. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because . . . it’s weird to sit in the yard so much?”

“Not so much. When I have time, that’s all. I think out here.” It wasn’t as if he was missing work to sit in the yard. It was just weekends. Maybe the occasional evening. When the weather was good, that was all.

“It’s just, I mean, it’s weird.”

“Nothing to worry about, Jill. Promise.”

“It’s just a tree, right?”

“Of course. You’re right. And I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She nodded, the clouds leaving her face. “Can I have some money then? For poster board? I mean, if you’re all right . . .”

“Sure,” he said, and he grabbed a twenty from his wallet, to show how fine he was.

She gave him a big smile, then, as a bonus, a very brief and awkward hug. It nearly made him want to give her another twenty.

Candy came over after Jillian left, as though they were taking shifts, keeping an eye on him. He and the dog sat side by side, soaking up the sun. Allison appeared with two mugs of coffee not long after.

“Just what I needed.”

She took a breath as if she was going to say something, then closed her mouth again and sipped her coffee. Then she did it again.

“What?” He steeled himself for an attack.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I know how you can overcome your tree obsession,” she said.

“It’s not an obsession.”