“I’ve got another meeting across town at two,” he said, turning toward the front door.

“I’ll be home before six to fix that broken porch light.”

“What company is the meeting with?” I asked, watching him look at his watch.

“Just an old client from my last firm,” he said, stopping with his right hand on the brass doorknob.

“Nothing you need to worry your head over.”

I waited until his silver sedan had backed all the way down the asphalt drive before I walked down the carpeted hall.

The house felt warmer and quieter than it had in three weeks.