Inside, somebody was sanding a doorframe while another worker carried tools toward the porch.

The house was not grand in the way Zachary liked a house to be grand.

Its best features did not announce themselves from the street.

There was a room that caught morning light, a path that curved toward the water, and a kitchen large enough to cook in without feeling I should apologize for leaving something on the counter.

My father had given it to me before the wedding because he knew I liked the place.

I had treated it afterward as something I would return to when I had more time.