1.

He likes to keep it unpredictable, but most of the time, when he's done something wrong, he comes home with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Sometimes it only means that he had time to think about her and they had enough money available on the credit card to pay the florist. Sometimes it's her birthday or their anniversary.

The first time it wasn't any of those things, she felt sudden, dry-mouthed, stark-clear certainty that he was having an affair. Her relief at hearing that, instead, he had merely let the insurance lapse for a single day on her car, was almost enough for her to forgive him entirely.

That, and the flowers. She loved them. She still feels a thrill every time he comes home and hands them to her while he gives her a kiss on the cheek, and she feels weak and helplessly feminine when she does, but she can't help it.

2.

They have a song. It doesn't meet any of Bess's exacting qualifications: it's not the first song they heard on the radio when they were alone in the car together for the first time, the first song they danced to, the song that played when they first kissed, the last song at their first prom together.