Daniel studied the couple. Mark’s distance from the solution to their problem. Laurie’s overeager expectation of a quick fix. “I’m not giving this to you because it’s my book. I’m giving it to you because I believe this is what you need. No secrets. Honesty is the key to your marriage recovering and then thriving.”

His desk phone buzzed. “Let’s leave it there today. Please read the book, and for our next session, we’ll work toward taking that first step in your being honest with each other.”

Mark and Laurie stood as one. Another good sign.

“Monique will look after your next appointment.” Daniel ushered them from his office and then flopped back into his chair. The Woods were another couple who had buried their differences deep enough to be out of reach but shallow enough so they both knew they were there. He heard the same thing every day from couples who poured through his office door as if the community were a clown car of unhappy relationships.

Daniel picked up Gramps’s camera. His professional day over, the moment had arrived. He lifted the gift to his eye, and when he spun his chair, luscious blond tresses filled his vision, along with a ruby-red smile. His welcome to work every morning for the past month.

Monique gave a playful rap on the door. “May I speak to you for a moment, Daniel?”

With a broad smile, Daniel put down the camera. “Of course.”

She bounced into his office, a heady mix of youthful energy and perfume. She perched on the edge of the couch, her long legs crossed as she held out a small gift box tied with an extravagant red ribbon. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss.”

Daniel was touched. She was sweet, and everyone loved her youthful enthusiasm. “Thanks, Monique. That’s special.”

He tugged on the ribbon, and a flash caught his eye as he lifted the lid of the box. Gold. Two cuff links nestled in pristine white silk. Two engraved letters on each. His initials.

Daniel stopped, unsure how to address a gift so over-the-top. She couldn’t afford to give it, and he couldn’t afford to receive it.

Monique caught his hesitation, and her smile dimmed. “You looked so sad when you told me how much your Gramps meant to you.”

He evaluated his options like a world-class Rubik’s Cube champion, flicking through responses to find the right ones. The wrong choice could crush her. Or him. “Monique . . . uh . . . this gift is . . .”

Her voice quickened. “You mentioned on my third day here that cuff links are smart.”

The box held only two small pins. Where was the harm in that?

Monique beamed as he pulled back his suit jacket and put them on, and then she pointed to the photograph on his desk. “Is that Gramps?”