I sighed. “Did you buy another house without telling me?”

“You won’t set foot in the Modern Tuscan, so I found a place that I hope will be more to your liking,” he said. “It’s down the street from Nancy’s apartment, and you can run back and forth and visit.”

“That will be fantastic! Is that the present you mentioned?”

“No, darling.”

We’d reached Nancy’s tony neighborhood, where Beaux Arts buildings, Victorians, and a few daring moderns had spectacular views to the bay. Mr. K turned into the driveway of a graceful three-story pewter Edwardian with white trim and a long stairway to the front entrance.

When Mr. K opened the car door, we got out and Ian led me through a black iron gate and up the marble steps. “It’s a bit empty now, because I know you’ll have your own ideas about decorating.”

“So if I want to cover the walls in flocked leopard print, you won’t object?”

“Not in the least.”

Mrs. K opened the front door with a bright smile. “Congratulations! Come in, come in.”

Ian picked me up again and said, “Welcome home, Milagro,” and carried me over the threshold into the foyer.

It was silly, but in the good way. “Thank you. Now let me down so I can see this place.”

I walked into a long living room with French windows looking out to a balcony. The house had been remodeled in a clean, airy way, from the white coffered ceiling to the simple marble fireplace, so that it was neither stuffy nor stark. “Ian, it’s beautiful. Are you sure this isn’t my present?”

“No, come along.” He took my hand and led me down the hall past a dining room, closed doors, and to the kitchen with its gleaming new appliances and hardwood floor. “I’ll leave it to you to decide where we put the mirror ball.”

“Is this an appliance-related gift?” I said. “Because, if so, it should match my chartreuse Margaritanator 3000.”

“It’s not an appliance.”

“Is it the yard?”

“No, but the yard does need a great deal of care. Perhaps you can recommend a garden designer.” Ian opened a back door and the first thing I saw was a laundry room. The second thing I saw was a small fuzzy thing coming at us with an abundance of wiggling and tail wagging.

I bent over and picked the puppy up. Her amber eyes gleamed and she squirmed and began licking my face. I loved her right away.

“Is she a clone?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t presume to dabble with God’s work. She’s just a rescue dog who reminded me of your dog, Daisy.”

“She’s wonderful. I love her.” I looked into the puppy’s face. “I think you’ll be Sweet Pea, because that means bliss and that’s what I feel.”