Elias stood before the windows and counted the boats on the Mississippi River in the distance.

Rose inspected every plant and declared the room too empty.

“Flowers need friends,” she told me.

“I suppose they do.”

I had purchased art for millions without once caring whether a room felt welcoming.

Now I watched a three-year-old place three small pots on a windowsill and improve the place more than any designer had managed.

We kept the visit to an hour.

Rose asked whether the couch was safe to jump on, and I said no because it was beside a glass table.