The daffodils were pushing their yellow heads through the pine mulch I’d put down the previous autumn to keep the bulbs from freezing. I’d rake up the mulch and see if the other bulbs needed thinning out.
* * * *
As the sun began setting, I stored my gardening tools in a corner of the garage, then went into the house to shower and change, assuring myself I didn’t miss Mark in the least.
I assembled the ingredients for dinner and began to work on the sauce, simmering the tomato, onion and butter mixture. A glance at the clock on the wall showed the time. Mark and I were both used to working long hours, but this was a Saturday, he had left before eight this morning, and now it was almost nine.
To distract myself, I turned my thoughts to the conversation I’d had with Mother earlier.
* *
