The morning after Art's birthday party, the Bellamy house was unusually quiet. Not peaceful, but quiet. There was a difference. Vivian sat at the kitchen table staring into her coffee. Martie was standing at the sink. Lou was eating birthday cake for breakfast. Nobody had said much for nearly ten minutes.
Finally, Vivian sighed. "I miss him.” Martie turned around. “He lives across the street.”
“I know.”
“You saw him yesterday.”
“I know.”
“You talked to him.”
“I know.”
Lou looked up from her cake. “You're being dramatic.”
Vivian looked offended. “I am not.”
“You are.”
Vivian pointed at Lou. “You cried when he blew out the candle.”
“I had something in my eye.”
“You cried with both eyes.”
Lou shrugged. “They're a team.”
Martie shook her head. “You two are impossible.”
She dried her hands. “Besides, we should be happy.”
Vivian smiled. “We are.”
“Then what's wrong?”
Vivian looked toward the window. “I think we're getting old.”
Lou frowned. “We've been old.”
Martie stared at her. “Thank you, Lou.”
“What?”
Vivian smiled. “No. She's right.” She looked down at her hands. “Yesterday made me think.”
Martie sat down. “About what?”
“That someday this won't be our normal.”
Lou stopped eating. Vivian continued. “One day we'll have to say goodbye to somebody.”
Martie looked at her. “That's life.”
“I know.”
Vivian swallowed. “I just don't want to waste what's left of it.”
The kitchen became quiet again. Lou reached across the table. She took Vivian's hand. “Then don't.” Vivian looked at her. Lou smiled. “That's all.”
Martie put her hand over theirs. “She's right.” Vivian smiled. “Well, I'll be darned.” Lou grinned. “I have moments.”
Across the street, Art was doing something he hadn't done in years. He was humming. Hank followed him around the kitchen as Art made coffee. “You're happy,” Emily said from the doorway. Art looked at her. “I am.”
“You're humming.”
“I hum.”
“No, you don't.”
Art frowned. “How would you know?”
“I've known you forty-something years.”
“That's not very long.”
Emily laughed. “You're different.”
Art poured two cups.
“Maybe.”
He handed her one. She took it. “What's next?”
Art looked toward the window. “I don't know.”
Emily smiled. “That's a good answer.”
“Why?”
“Because you used to think you had to know.”
Art nodded. “I did.”
“And now?”
He smiled. “Now I'm figuring out that sometimes you just wake up and see what happens.”
Emily raised her cup. “To seeing what happens.”
Art tapped his cup against hers. “To that.”
Hank barked. Art looked down. “You want coffee?” Hank's tail wagged. Emily laughed. “He's learned from you.” Art shook his head. “Don't blame me.”
At ten that morning, Edna Price arrived at the Bellamy house carrying a pie. Martie opened the door. “Edna.” Edna smiled. “Morning.”
“What did you bring?” “Apple pie.”
Martie's eyes narrowed. "Why?”
Edna laughed. “Can't an old woman bring a pie?”
“Not without a reason.”
Edna stepped inside. “I wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
Edna looked across the street. “For bringing Arthur back.”
Martie stopped. “We didn't.”
Edna smiled. “You did.”
Vivian came down the stairs. “What are we talking about?”
Edna told her. Vivian looked toward Art's house.
“He did most of it himself.”
“Maybe.”
Edna set down the pie. “But sometimes people need somebody to knock on the door.”
Lou appeared behind them. “We knocked a lot.”
Edna laughed. “I know.”
She turned toward Lou. “Margaret used to say the same thing about Arthur.”
“What?”
“He needed knocking on.”
Lou's eyes widened. "I like her.”
“You would have.”
Edna smiled. “She was one of the kindest women I ever knew.”
She looked toward the street. “And one of the strongest.”
Vivian sat down. “Tell us something about her.”
Edna smiled. “I could tell you a hundred things.”
“Tell us one.”
Edna thought. “Margaret once told me that the secret to a long marriage was knowing when to talk and knowing when to bring pie.”
Martie smiled. “That sounds like good advice.”
Edna nodded. “She said Arthur needed both.”
They laughed. Then Edna's smile softened. “She also told me something else.”
“What?”
“She said if anything ever happened to her, she didn't want Arthur spending the rest of his life mourning her.” Vivian's smile faded. “She said he was too stubborn to understand that grief wasn't a home.” Martie looked down. “That sounds like him.”
“It was.”
Edna looked across the street. “He finally learned.”