Three Green Notebooks Left in a Cedar Chest on Elm Street

the tree line, casting long, purple shadows across my gravel driveway. A dark sedan was parked near my mailbox, and Russell, Gale’s son, was leaning against the driver-side door.

He was tapping his foot rhythmically against his front tire, looking down at his gold wristwatch as I walked down the steps.

“Mabel,” he said, talking rapidly before I could continue reading …