Now he was just pushing her buttons. “You’re gaslighting me, aren’t you? Did you do this while I was dillydallying in the driveway?”

“Don’t you remember? I was getting my golf bag ready so I can take it to the club tomorrow. How am I gaslighting you now?”

He had a point. Robin did have a tendency to accuse him of mischief every time she couldn’t find her keys. He called her the girl who cried wolf. She told him that’s what he got for being such a practical joker.

She did another slow, circular turn. She didn’t want to accuse Stan again, but she was certain that the house wasn’t as she left it. Little things were different. The Marimekko throw pillow was in the center of the sofa, not stacked in front of the larger, solid green one in the corner. When Stan reached for the remote control, it had been on the coffee table, not on the porcelain tray on the media console beneath the TV, the way she liked it. The blinds over the sliding glass door to the deck were flipped up, not down.

She asked Stan if he had arranged for the housekeeper to come while they were out of town.

“You give me far too much credit if you think I know how to call . . . huh, I don’t even know her name.”

“Gina.”

“Whatever,” Stan said. “Stop obsessing. I’m sure it was probably Evan not putting things back after the open house.”

Robin felt stupid the second her husband mentioned Evan. Right, of course: the realtor. After living in New York City for nearly a quarter century, using this house as their weekend respite, Stan had declared two months earlier that he was tired of what he had taken to calling “this garbage city.” Now that their daughter was out of college and working in Phoenix, he wanted to accept his company’s offer of a transfer to Irvine. How could she say no?

She knew that plenty of people would kill to be in her position. She was in love with a husband who loved her back and asked little in return. And the new place would be closer to Hannah.

But, man, she was going to miss this house. They were only going to be here for three days before they headed down to Palm Beach for another vacation. Stan was taking full advantage of the downtime he had negotiated before he needed to start work in California.

“Is it awful that I keep forgetting we’re selling this place?”

Stan’s face softened as he looked up at her from the sofa. “We’ve got a lot of good memories here, sweetie. We’ve still got half a lifetime left to make some more. Now turn off your OCD and keep me company on the sofa over here.”