different kind of family from mineI say that without judgment, or I try to. Families handle things differently, and his family’s way of handling things—other people’s things, and the idea of consideration itself—was simply not the way I had been raised.
His sister Kelsey was twenty-nine when the wedding took place.
I had known her six years, and in those six years I had learned the particular lesson of living near someone who believed, with the quiet certainty of a person never seriously contradicted on the point, that the world
