She returned the porch chairs to their proper positions, wiped down the coffee table, carried the wet towel to the laundry basket, picked up the stray glasses and washed them carefully and returned them to the shelf. She swept the sand from the entryway and the hallway and the kitchen. She went outside and looked at the geranium bed. Three plants were beyond saving. She pulled them up cleanly and set them in the compost bin and then stood for a moment at the edge of the bed, hands still dirty, thinking about whether to feel grief over the loss of them or simply to plan for replacements in the spring. She decided on the replacements. There was something clarifying about making a practical decision in the immediate aftermath of an emotional one.
She was rinsing her hands at the kitchen sink when she heard Robert’s car in the driveway.