Red Cottage, the ancestral home of the Cooper family, greeted me with silence. I closed the front door, blocking out the sounds from outside. She sighed and made her way to the kitchen.

“Oh, I should have agreed to lunch,” I dejectedly assessed the remnants of food in the refrigerator.

She always said so, but invariably returned to the house, where only the memory of the once large Cooper family remained. I put the last portion of lasagna on to bask and with some even pleasure began to wash the empty baking sheet. The food is out, which means it will be back soon.

“Now I’ll go and eat in...