The woman at the marina restaurant was the event planner. She had nearly ruined the surprise when I called. The motel key card was from the room he rented near the jeweler. And the lake that unlocked his laptop was the place he had proposed to me thirty-one years ago, on a dock at sunset. I sat down on the stairs and laughed until I cried, and Paula laughed with me.

That night, I told Steven everything, including how close I came to believing the worst. He held me and apologized for frightening me. Three weeks later, I walked down the aisle at the marina in that ivory dress, and Steven read vows he had rewritten eleven times. Our kids flew in from both coasts, and Paula cried more than anyone. Then I slid his new band onto his finger. For the first time in fifteen years, he wore it home. His friends finally took him fishing the following weekend.