“The plumber hooked the sink line back up this morning,” Bob said briskly.

“I’ve got to run down to Maple Street for forty-five minutes and shut the main valve before it wrecks his floorboards.”

He picked his brass key ring up off the counter and grabbed the silver-wrapped gift box by its blue ribbon.

“Why are you taking the anniversary present to Uncle John’s house?” I asked.

Bob held the wrapped box against his ribs with both hands.

“I don’t want expensive silk sitting on a wet kitchen counter while I’m gone,” he said.