Then I noticed my underwear drawer.
At first, her habits were annoying more than alarming. She refolded towels. Moved my mail. Smoothed wrinkles out of the guest-room bedspread no one had touched. She acted as if every surface in my house was waiting for her approval.
I told myself it was better to ignore her.
Then I noticed my underwear drawer.
The first time, I just stood there staring. A few things were folded differently. One bra was upside down. A pair of black underwear I knew I had shoved toward the back was lying right on top.
The second time happened after Kathryn came over for lunch and wandered upstairs.
I shut the drawer and told myself I was imagining it.
The second time happened after Kathryn came over for lunch and wandered upstairs without explanation. That night I found one of my sleep bras tucked into my sock drawer.