The fifth house was a new build with four bedrooms, a nice yard, and a reasonable price. It checked every box on Robbie’s spreadsheet. He gave it an 8.7. However, something was missing. I couldn’t name it. The rooms were fine. The kitchen was updated. The yard was big enough for Trevor. It was a perfectly good house. Trevor wandered through every room, sniffed each corner methodically, then returned to the front door and lay down with his chin on his paws.
“Trevor seems neutral on this one,” Robbie said.
“No, he doesn’t like it,” Madison said. “I can tell by the way he’s lying.”
“What do you think?” Grady asked me.
I looked around the beige walls and carpet. “It’s all right, but kind of generic.”
“Agreed,” Grady said.
“I keep thinking we’ll know it when we see it,” I said.
Grady squeezed my hand. “We’ll look at one more today, and then we’ll get some dinner.”
The sixth housewas the one Robbie had declared the winner on paper. Regardless, as we’d seen earlier that day, photos and descriptions could be misleading. It was on Driftwood Lane, a quiet road not far from Seraphina’s house that curved away from the main part of town, climbing gently through a stand of Monterey pines before the trees opened up and the road ended at a wooden gate.
Behind the gate was a storybook coastal cottage, its shingles washed to the softest pale blue in the afternoon light, as if the ocean had lent it its color. Blue-gray shutters framed tall, symmetrical windows trimmed in crisp white, and two dormer windows rose from the steep, weathered roof. The wide front porch stretched across the entire face of the house, supported by clean white columns, wicker chairs for daydreaming or reading. Beach grass and coastal sage grew right up to the front steps, golden and silver-green in the November light, brushing the simple stone path that led to the door. Rosemary bushes flanked the porch, still fragrant, and hydrangeas lined the railing, faded to papery blue. A few late roses clung on, pale and brave against the chill. The rest of the garden was dormant—dried seed heads, bare stems, yellow grasses. Regardless, I could see what it had been and what it would be again come spring. A garden asleep would wake slowly, its treasures blooming and growing under the warmth of the sun. All one needed was a little faith in the natural order of things.
Trevor stuck his head between the seats and barked.
“Trevor likes it,” Madison said.
“That’s obvious to us all,” Robbie said.
We got out of the car. I told myself not to get too excited, but it appeared at first glance to be exactly what we wanted. Lila had beat us there and sat on the steps waiting.
Madison ran toward her, shouting, with Trevor at her heels. “It’s a house from a story book.”
“She’s right,” I said to Grady. “It’s exactly what I want.”
Trevor was sniffing every bush and tree, his tail wagging.
“I knew this was the one,” Robbie said.
“Even Trevor knows it,” Grady said.
“Shall we?” Lila asked, standing.
We went inside. The front door opened into a wide entryway with wide-planked hardwood floors, honey-colored and gleaming. Even on a gray day like today, light poured through windows on every wall. A stone fireplace anchored the living room to the left, flanked by built-in bookshelves. To the right, a dining room opened onto the porch through a set of French doors.
“Oh my gosh, look at that.” Madison pointed to the chandelier that hung over the dining room table. “It’s sparkling flowers.”
It was made of golden branches, twisting and intertwined, with dozens of crystal flowers blooming from every stem. Each blossom caught the light and tossed tiny prisms across the walls. It looked like someone had taken one of my arrangements, frozen it at its most beautiful moment, and hung it from the ceiling in gold and glass.
“I want to see the yard.” Madison, with Trevor on her heels, bolted through the French doors to the patio.
“I can see us here,” I said, almost afraid to say it out loud.
“I can too,” Grady said, taking my hand.
“Four bedrooms upstairs,” Lila said, consulting the listing on her phone. “Two and a half baths. The primary has an en suite.There’s a mudroom off the back and a detached garage with a loft that could be used for a workshop or office.”
“Let’s look at the kitchen,” Lila said, gesturing for us to follow her.
“Oh my goodness,” I said. “This is gorgeous.”
The ceilings soared, with white beadboard overhead and an arched window at the very top that let in a flood of sky. The whole back wall was glass, with tall windows and another set of French doors that opened onto the deck, and, beyond that, the ocean. The light that poured through bounced off the white cabinetry, wide-plank floors and the granite countertops of a massive island with a farmhouse sink right in the center. Not tucked against a wall like at my apartment. No, this was in the center of the room, where I could stand and wash dishes and look straight through those French doors at the Pacific Ocean.
