“That’s the house.”

The driveway curved beneath the pines and ended at a low brick house with a broad porch and a lawn that sloped down to the water.

I put the car in park.

Neither of us budged.

“Well,” Helen said.

“It’s real, all right.”

I pulled the key ring out of the ignition.

Walter’s old brass key hung next to my car key, dull and heavy.