I start with candles. People say that candles are sexy, especially the scented kind—smell is linked to memory and all. I choose a few small vanilla and cinnamon scented tea lights and place them in little glass containers around the bathroom. I strike the match, and the moment the sole wisp of smoke evaporates into the air, I’m surrounded by smells reminding me of fresh-baked goods at the coffeehouse. And Erin. I picture them in their flour-splattered apron, handing me a perfect scone made especially for me. There’s a wink involved, behind which says a lot without words. This is...