“Thank you,” I replied, my voice soft with the weight of nostalgia.

The moss clung stubbornly to the stone exterior, crawling along the walls like it had every right to be there. Vines traced their way up from the ground, threading around the window frames. I glanced upward at the familiar archway of vines that crowned the door. It had grown while we were away—thicker, fuller—despite the short time we’d been gone. Just a week and a half. Yet everything had changed. Or maybe I had. Maybe I hadn’t realized how homesick I was. Or maybe I did realize… but I masked the ache with thoughts of Margaret, letting her memory stand in as my anchor.

I reached the little red front door with its familiar curve at the top and paused, waiting for Edward to catch up—he had the key. Clement and Edward approached with the luggage, and June and I stepped aside, letting them pass.

Edward fished into his trouser pocket and retrieved the small silver key—aged and tarnished from time, but still solid. He inserted it into the lock, twisted it to the left, and with a gentle push, the door creaked open.

A wave of warmth greeted us as we stepped inside, coupled with a thick humidity that clung to the walls. It smelled faintly of closed-up rooms and dried flowers. While Edward and Clement hauled the luggage upstairs, I moved through the rooms, flicking on lights and throwing open windows. A cross-breeze stirred the curtains. I turned on the fans where we had them, letting them hum to life.

Within minutes, the air became breathable again, lighter. The house felt lived-in once more.

“Oh, it feels so good to be home,” I sighed to June as we settled into the living room, each of us sinking into one of the floral armchairs. The living room, technically to the right of the entryway, wasn’t grand or formal—it was just… ours. It was home.

“I love the floral theme in here,” June said, her eyes bright as she looked around. “When Clement and I moved into our country house, I begged him to let me do something similar, but he wouldn’t budge. So now we’ve got this sage green theme instead. It’s nice, but not quite the same. We have flowers and plants in there too, but your living room just feels… different.”

“I do like your living room,” I offered. “It’s very light and airy.”

June laughed, brushing a curl away from her face. “Thank you.”

She continued to take it all in: the faded pink armchairs, the matching couch, the light brown coffee table in the center. Atop it sat a vase, currently empty. I’d thrown out the peonies before we left so we wouldn’t return to the sight of withered petals. I hated withered flowers. They meant endings. They meant death. And I feared death—feared it more than I could ever say.

June leaned to look at the side table between the two armchairs and noticed the second vase resting there—this one filled with white peonies, their edges browning and curling. Huh. I thought I’d thrown them all out. I must’ve missed one in the rush. It felt strange, seeing those flowers like that. Like a memory that didn’t want to let go.

On my side of the table, a small stack of books sat neatly. The vase had once rested atop them, until Edward, ever cautious, moved it—worried it might fall.

“You know something?” June said suddenly, glancing at me with wide eyes. “Show me the rest of your house. I know I’m only here for a few more minutes, but I want to see everything.”

“Someone excited to see the interior of my cottage? That’s a first,” I joked, rising from the chair, even though I’d barely had a moment to enjoy its cushion.

I led her into the dining space—not really a full room, more of an alcove with a table and chairs. She was immediately taken with the rug beneath the table, a deep dusty red with elegant beige swirls.

“It looks expensive,” June remarked, crouching slightly to examine the patterns.

“It wasn’t,” I said with a small smile. “The person who made it said the design was easy to replicate. We got it for a hundred and eighty dollars.”

June wandered further, now exploring the room freely, though to me, it wasn’t anything special. Not compared to the formal dining room at June and Clement’s house, which had an actual door and crown molding and everything.

She stopped in front of a little storage cabinet. “What’s this?”

“Oh, that’s where we keep the special plates and utensils. Feel free to open it.”

She did—and gasped when she saw the contents. The utensils were gilded, the handles adorned with intricate gold swirls that shimmered faintly in the light.

“These are nicer than the ones we have back at my house!” she exclaimed. “Where did you get them?”

“They were passed down to me,” I explained. “A lot of the things in this house were from my grandparents or great-grandparents.”

“Same here!” June grinned. “Our house has been in the family for a couple generations too. We plan to pass it on to our children someday. Keep the tradition going.”

Before I could reply, footsteps echoed down the staircase. Edward and Clement appeared, Clement giving June a subtle gesture—it was time to go.

“No! Don’t go yet,” I pleaded, walking back to the living room. “Stay for some tea. Please. It would be our pleasure to have you both a little longer. Edward and I can visit the doctor later.”

June hesitated, visibly torn, but Clement spoke before she could answer. “No. It’d be best if Edward went now. If he falls asleep after we leave, he won’t go at all. He’s still awake now. Take advantage of it.”

“Alright,” I agreed reluctantly, sighing. “I guess we’ll see you again in a few months then. We’ll miss you both. Please write. I’ll definitely be writing to you, June.”

“I’ll write back, Florence!” she said warmly.

She came over and embraced me tightly, her familiar scent of honey and magnolia wrapping around me like a blanket. It was sweet, comforting. It reminded me of Margaret’s hugs—how I could melt into them without thinking. With men, I always seemed to stiffen. I couldn’t explain it. It just didn’t feel the same.

I pulled away first, not wanting Edward to think I was lingering too long. Knowing him, he might even get jealous over a hug. Imagine that.

“Bye! Thank you again for coming with us and staying with us. We enjoyed every second of it,” June said, waving as she walked to the door, which Clement now held open. The earthy scent of wet wood and soil drifted back inside.

“And thank you for driving us home,” I added, waving. “We appreciate it. See you soon!”

“G’bye,” Edward said quietly, his voice dull, a little distant. Maybe he was sad to see them go. Or maybe he was getting sleepy again.

“Bye! See ya soon!” Clement called, closing the door gently behind them.

Edward and I stood there for a moment, just staring at the door as if it held the answers to some riddle we hadn’t yet solved.

“Well then,” I said at last, turning to him. “We should get going before you fall asleep.”

He didn’t reply. His eyes remained fixed on the door, specifically the arched window set into its top half—curved glass with swirling designs etched into the surface. He looked like he was trying to memorize every line.

“Edward,” I said more firmly, snapping my fingers in front of his face.

“What?” he asked absently, flicking his gaze toward me for a brief moment before turning back to the door.

“Snap out of it. We’re going to the doctor now. And no objections. We’re going now.” I extended my hand to him.

“Oh. Okay,” he murmured, finally blinking out of whatever trance he’d fallen into.

He took my hand.

We stepped outside, locking the red door behind us, and began the short walk toward the doctor’s office—just the two of us, hand in hand, down a dirt path that smelled like rain.