Which chair would you choose to sit in? Discover what that says about your personality

I signed them on the first Saturday in September.

In the garden. On my knees. In George’s old hat and my green rubber boots. Between the tomatoes and the roses.

Brandon was there. Of course he was. It was Saturday.

He was pulling weeds in the bean row. When he saw Danny Brennan walk up the driveway with a briefcase, he sat back on his heels and frowned.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” I said. “Come here a minute.”

He came over. He knelt down in the dirt next to me. His jeans were filthy. His Dollar General sneakers weren’t