I kissed Alice for the first time later that afternoon as she wrestled with the wringer washer in the laundry nook off the kitchen. It was easy to feel free in this laundry nook, with its straightforward purpose, no frills or knickknacks, only the gleam and thump of the metal tub with its soapy churn. I admired the gentle pulse at Alice’s throat and her dark hair threaded with white, and it came over me that I should kiss her. But when I put my hand on her waist, she startled and exclaimed, I thought you were my husband’s ghost and it gave me quite a start! That was not worth hearing—I did not like it whatsoever—and so I kissed her to make us both forget it. At first her lips were firm, but warmed and softened as she kissed me back. Also she laughed, laughter that was deep and throaty and with a liveliness in it. This laugh was her true self. Before I left, Alice invited me to meet her for a swim the next day, at the old reservoir that had been a favorite place of hers since she was a child.…