“Your mother is gone. Tears won’t bring her back—so wipe your face, make dinner, and don’t look like a grieving child when my guests arrive.” That was what my husband said.

But before my hand could touch the front doorknob, the impatient voice of my husband, Mark, shattered the silence. Mark was frowning, glancing at his expensive wristwatch. He didn’t look like a man who had just lost his mother-in-law. There was no trace of pain on his face. On the contrary, his eyes shone with a strange mix of excitement and restlessness. He rushed to open the trunk of the car and pulled out several large grocery bags that I didn’t know when he had bought. I stood motionless on the porch, staring blankly at the pots with my mother’s favorite orchids, which were beginning to wilt from not being watered since the morning.