“Garrett, sweetie,” she said, her voice lilting up at the end the way you’d talk to a child.

“Where’d you wander off to?

The caterers are here picking out table linens for Friday night.”

“I was hunting for my silver cufflinks,” I said, keeping my voice flat and slow.

“I figured I’d left them in the desk drawer.”

“Oh, honey,” she sighed into the phone.

“We moved those to the master closet weeks ago.

You’re really letting this merger stress get to you.”