who met my mother for the first time usually adored her.

Carol was charming, organized, and exceptionally good at making a house look beautiful.

Every December, she decorated the front porch with white lights, placed coordinated stockings above the fireplace, and filled the rooms with cinnamon candles.

Her Christmas table always looked as though it belonged in a magazine.

She remembered birthdays, sent handwritten thank-you cards, and knew precisely how to make guests feel welcome.

At least, she knew how to make certain guests feel welcome.

Living with her had