Ryan’s suitcase stood by the front door like a quiet accusation.

Elena watched her husband check his phone one last time, then lean in to kiss her cheek. The kiss was brief, almost distracted. He had an early flight to Denver and a week of client meetings that would probably stretch longer.

“Grant should be here around seven,” Ryan said, adjusting his jacket. “He’ll handle the broken fence and keep an eye on things. Don’t feel like you have to entertain him the whole time.”

“I won’t,” Elena answered.

Ryan smiled, already halfway out the door. A moment later his car pulled out of the driveway and the house settled...