Neighbors and family acquaintances came to the house after the burial and gasped at the sight of all the exquisite roses adorning every room left open to visitors. It was as though death and the advent of winter had been left outside, but here spring and life prevailed. Miranda rubbed her pounding temples, then pinched the bridge of her nose to relieve her throbbing sinuses. What had seemed like such a fitting tribute to her husband’s memory had filled the house with cloying sweetness. The scent blended with musty wool and crepe, wet from the snow at the grave sight. Reggie slipped in beside her and handed her a cup of tea. She took a sip and smiled at him. Exactly the right amount of milk and sugar, bless him. “Thank you, dear,” she said. “You knew just the thing.” He wrinkled his nose. “God, it smells awful in here.” She shook her head. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.
