The last time I went to an estate sale, I bought an apron my friend wore when she baked, as well as a book signed by another neighbor whose death I still mourn. I tried on the apron and thought of the time my friend first mentioned her book club, the one she had joined as a lonely young mother. When I asked her which book they were currently reading, she laughed: “Oh, honey, we haven’t read a book in fifty years.”
