Malcolm leans over and picks up a red tab listing. Studies it. "This has a pool."
"That's why it's interesting."
"I want a pool."
"You want a pool in the abstract," Finn says. "In practice you'd use it four times and then it would become a very expensive hole in the ground."
"I would use it constantly."
"You'd use it constantly for three weeks and then it would become a very expensive hole in the ground."
"Finn—"
"Malcolm, you don't even shower for fun. You shower functionally. You're not a pool person."
I take the stack and start going through them.
The first few don't catch. Nice houses, reasonable land, nothing wrong with them and nothing pulling at me either. I set them aside and keep going.
Then I find it.
Four bedrooms. Two acres. A covered porch that wraps around two sides. And in the listing photos—overgrown, clearly unmaintained, absolutely full of potential—a garden space that runs the full length of the back of the property. Deep beds. Old stone borders. A mature apple tree at the far end.
I look at it for a long moment.
Then I look up and find Alex already looking at the same listing.
He glances up at the same moment I do.
We don't say anything.
"What's that one," Finn says, craning his neck.
I hold it up.
He takes it. Studies it. "The garden is a project."
"I know," I say.
"Like, significant work."
"I know."
"The porch is nice though." He tilts it toward Malcolm. "Look at this porch."
Malcolm takes it. Nods. "This is a good porch." He hands it to Rhys.
Rhys examines it. Turns it over. Examines the back. "Ceiling height?"
Finn pulls out his phone. Looks it up. "Nine foot standard throughout. Ten in the main living space."
Rhys looks at this information. Looks at the listing. "Acceptable."
"High praise," Malcolm says.
"The last one had eight foot ceilings," Rhys says. "That's not a home. That's a container."
"You’ve been fine in the cabin," Finn says.
