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For one second, everything in me goes still.

I reach for the gate code. My hand hesitates before the keypad.

I punch in the numbers, and the gate opens to the courtyard. Just as I remembered it. White walls, blue tile, small fountain giving its uneven little trickle. Familiar enough that for one irrational second my body expects Renny to step out from the front door, smiling because he has arranged something fun for the evening.

Don steps in behind me and removes his hat. “Oh, damn.”

I glance at him. “What?”

“I forgot it was this pretty.” He looks around the courtyard. “My place reminds me of a police substation.”

I laugh. Don and his ex split custody of a smaller rental down the road. They made the bold choice to modernize five years ago, and Don has regretted it ever since.

For the first time since leaving Riverside, I let myself believe this might work. Not fix everything, but help.

I approach the glass door and reach for the handle.

Don exhales behind me. “Please tell me there’s wine.”

“Didn’t you pack some bar wine in your checked bag?”

“Yeah, but I meant good wine.”

I push the door open and cool air spills out.

For half a breath, I close my eyes. I step inside and let my shoulders drop. Don comes in behind me and immediately releases a sigh.

“God bless air conditioning,” he says. “I take back all of the bad things I thought about you on that mountain.”

“I appreciate that.”

I close the glass door behind us. The outside heat disappears with a soft seal.

I give the place a quick scan. Same couch. Same chairs. Same painting over the couch, the beach scene I made years ago after a fight with Renny neither of us could remember by the time I finished it.

Don sets his hat on the coffee table.

“I guess our bags aren’t here yet,” I say.

“That or they were stolen off the side of the road while we played Heidi on the hillside.”

I give him a look, then check my phone. “No alert yet. Still in transit.”

“Excellent. I’m going to dive into your pool in my underwear while we wait.”

I almost smile.

Then I see the bowl in the sink. One white bowl, one spoon, both rinsed badly.

Don takes two more steps before noticing I am not following. “What?”

I cross to the kitchen.

The counter is wiped clean except for a crumpled napkin near the sink and a grocery bag folded beside the toaster. I touch the bag as if it might explain itself.

Don comes closer. “Did the housekeeper quit?”

“No.”