When he reached into the side pocket of his trousers for his handkerchief, a heavy brass key ring slipped through his fingers and hit the floor with a loud metal clink.

I bent down and picked it up off the yellowed linoleum before he could get to it.

It was two separate brass rings linked by a heavy steel swivel, and each ring held an identical master key to my front door.

“You carry two sets of keys to my house,” I said, holding the cold brass out toward his open hand.

“Always good to keep a spare set handy, Clara,” Dean said, taking the key ring back with a quick, warm smile.