Jake had entered my life on an ordinary Tuesday.
I was sitting in a café when he approached my table and asked if he could sit down.
At first, I thought he had mistaken me for someone else.
But he knew my name.
Even stranger, he knew my husband’s name, too.
When I asked how, he smiled and said,
“One day, I’ll explain everything, Margaret. But right now, I just want to get to know you.”
After that, he started calling me every day.
He asked about my health, accompanied me on walks, and took me out to dinner.
Sometimes he looked at me as though he had spent years searching for me.
Two months later, he suggested moving into my home.
Iagreed.
But on our very first evening together, I noticed something strange.
Jake wasn’t interested in my jewelry or bank accounts. Instead, he kept asking about our former employees, my husband’s work, and who had visited our house before my husband died.
