The waiting room of Dr. Zivitz' office was empty. Andrew coiled, suspecting an ambush. But no gunmen appeared. Instead, the receptionist stood up behind the counter. "Mrs. Rowan? Mr. Rowan? Come right in."

Andrew leaned against the counter. "Kinda empty in here."

"Oh, we never schedule appointments until after ten. Doctor likes to keep the early morning open for emergencies. Not that you're an emergency, of course, I don't mean that, but, well, you're a special case, of course. We usually see ladies way before this."

Lily shrugged apologetically. "I brought copies of my records," she said helpfully. She handed over the manila folder. It documented, accurately, every one of her prenatal visits. But in a deal worked through Dyson's contacts, the records had all been transcribed onto the forms of an obstetrician from Toronto. The medical details were intact, but there was nothing to show that Lily had seen doctors in cities from New York to Rio de Janero.

If asked, the obliging doctor would provide the originals of the records.

"Oh, terrific," the receptionist said. "These will be a big help. Come on back." She gestured towards the door at the side of the desk.

Still uneasy, Andrew moved ahead of Lily and opened the door for her. He took a quick look around, but there was nothing to alarm him. A nurse, a hallway, closed doors. He didn't like the closed doors.

Lily touched his hand. "What is it?" she asked softly.

Andrew shook his head. "Just nerves. Habits."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "We're okay, kedves."

"I know."

The receptionist showed them into a room. Andrew had expected it to be an exam room; instead, it was Zivitz' office. The doctor himself stood up and came around the desk to shake hands with them. He was a perfectly average man, perhaps seventy years old, who moved like he was much younger. A distance runner, Andrew knew instantly, and a devoted one.

He liked the doctor instantly, not least because he came all the way around and held Lily's chair for her.

When they were all settled again, the doctor folded his hands on top of the manila folder without opening it. "I'm glad to meet you." And directly to Lily, "How do you feel?"

She blinked, startled. "Good. I feel good."

Zivitz nodded. "Good. That's the best indicator we have of how things are going." He turned to Andrew. "And how are you doing?"

Andrew was more startled than his wife had been. "I … uh … a little overwhelmed, frankly."

"Understandable. This is your first?"

They both nodded.

"And you bought the Octagon House." The doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I could recommend a good psychiatrist, but I don't think even expert testimony will get you out of that contract. When are you moving in?" he continued.

"We're testing the new furnace today," Lily answered. "We can't do much of anything else unless that works."

"Good luck with that. Lord knows that house needs a family in it."

Lily and Andrew shared a look. They liked him, both of them, very much.

As if he sensed that they were now comfortable with him, Zivitz opened the medical file.

The house was sweltering.

Andrew held the door open and followed Lily into the kitchen. Cox was standing at the sink, watching the water run, in his t-shirt, sweating. "Hey!" he grinned. "The furnace works!"

"I can tell," Andrew answered, peeling off his windbreaker. "Excellent. How's the water?"

"Looks okay so far. I've been through the house once, haven't found any leaks. I'm going to go turn on all the bathrooms now, one at a time." Above them, muffled by the second floor, there was hammering on the roof. "They're finishing the edges up there now, should be done by the end of the day."

"I could kiss you," Lily said.

"Maybe sometime when your husband isn't around," he teased.

"Hell," Andrew said, "I could kiss you, too."

The contractor regarded them warily. He'd known the Rowans for a week; he knew they were just a bit unpredictable. "I'll pass, thanks. How'd it go with Zivitz?"

"Fine. You're right, I like him." Andrew scratched at his chin with both hands; he was already sweating under his beard.

"Yeah. He doesn't treat dads like second-class citizens. The baby's okay?"

"She's fine," Lily answered.

"She's small," Andrew countered. "Still. More milk, he says."

Cox grinned. "Four big glasses a day, whether Mom wants them or not. He tells that to all the dads. I think it's to make us feel useful." He gestured to the sink. "Leave this run. I'm going to go see about the bathrooms."

As he left the kitchen, Lily moved into Andrew's arms. "Well," he rumbled, "heat and lights and water and a roof. When do you want to move in?"

"Today," she said promptly.

"Saturday?" he countered.

"Saturday's good," she answered. "I love this, you know. This house, this town, all of it."

"Worth the risk?" he asked.

She hid her face against his shoulder. "I love this life with you."

He rocked her gently. "I think we're going to be very happy here. Very busy, but very happy."

"Hmmmm," Lily purred.

"One condition, though." She leaned back to look at him. "We will not move into this house, Saturday or any other day, unless you promise me you won't overdo things."

"I won't," she said lightly.

Andrew shook his head. "Not good enough. The most important thing right now is not getting the curtains hung, or the walls painted, or anything else. It's growing this baby for another six weeks. It's keeping her and you safe. Understand?"

She studied his eyes solemnly for a moment. "I promise," she said.

"Good." He drew her close again.

From the hallway, they heard a toilet flush, and a contractor cheer.

"I must have it," Lily said.

"I thought that the minute I saw it," Penny answered.

They were standing in an antique story, the fourth they'd visited that afternoon, looking at a small, beautiful oak dining table.

"It expands, of course, but the leaves are missing," the shop owner explained.

Lily shook her head absently. As it was, without the leaves, the table had eight sides. "We wouldn't use it in the dining room anyhow."

"The atrium," Penny said with certainty.

"Right in the center," Lily confirmed. "Except at Christmas, when we put a tree there."

"It would be wonderful if we could find an octagon area rug to go under it."

Lily shrugged. "Down the road, if we can't find one, maybe we'll have one made." She sighed. "I don't know what we're going to do about that god-awful carpet."

"Tear it up," Penny answered, "and wash the floors down. You can refinish them later. It'd be easier than trying to clean all that ugly carpet, anyhow."

"I suppose. Just, between that and the windows and painting the walls – we won't even start on stripping the woodwork – we're looking at about five hundred man-hours just to have a place to start." She looked towards the shop owner. "I want the table."

"And the chairs?"

"Let's see them."

He led the ladies towards the back of the store. Along the way they also picked out a huge mirror with a wide gilt frame and a light fixture with an ornate stained glass shade. "Can you deliver these?" Lily asked.

"Sure. Where to?"

"The Octagon House at Rowan Light. On Saturday."

The man did a double-take. "Oh, you're Mrs. Rowan," he said, his manner warming significantly. "It's so nice to meet you."

Lily flashed her most winning smile. "Thank you." A week since they bought the house, and everybody knew them, knew their story – or, rather, knew the story the Rowans had told. It was exactly what she and Andrew had wanted.

The front door of the shop open, its bell clanking unmelodically. The shop owner scowled at two teenage girls who had come in. "I'll be right back," he said. "The chairs are right there, and anything else you'd like to look at."

Lily examined the chairs. They were rather plain straight-backed dining rooms chairs with padded seats, well-worn and not very attractive. They clearly did not go with the table. "I don't think so," she said.

Penny was staring towards the front of the shop, where the teenagers were hanging a poster in the front window with the shop owner's tape. "Hmmm?"

"What is it?" Lily asked.

"Oh, sorry," Penny said. "I was just thinking … band kids."

"Band kids."

Penny gestured towards the departing girls. "Band kids. They're always looking for ways to raise money. Car washes, bake sales, all that."

"Yes?"

"Well, you need five hundred man-hours. But most of it isn't skilled labor, it's just … labor. You and Andrew, two hundred fifty hours apiece. Or a hundred band kids for half a day. For a donation."

"It'd be worth the donation," Lily said. "But do you even have a hundred band kids?"

"No," Penny admitted. "But between the band and the football team, the wrestlers, the soccer team … and of course, if you get the kids, you get some of the parents. People are dying to see the inside of that house, you know. It's just a question of whether you want to open the whole place to the whole town."

"For one day?" Lily said. "I'll have to run it by Andrew, but for one day I think we could do it."

She nodded thoughtfully. She already knew what her husband would say. For one day, to get their story told throughout the community, to make themselves known as they wanted to be known in Broken Harbor, absolutely. And if they got the awful carpet removed in the process, so much the better.

They went, at Zivitz' not-very-gentle urging, to their first childbirth class on Wednesday afternoon. It was a small, informal gathering, two other couples, both younger and less imminently expectant, and Dr. Zivitz' nurse, who was also his wife. Laura was a straightforward, practical woman, and she was at least thirty years younger than her husband.

After class they drove south, out of town. They told Penny and Cox and Johnson they were packing up the last few things from their apartment. There was, of course, no such apartment to pack up. They drove far enough to be sure they wouldn't bump into any locals and rented a small moving truck through the weekend. At a small chain hotel, they checked in under a new false name, just to be on the safe side, and paid extra for space to park the truck. They had dinner at a non-descript restaurant. And then they took the truck and went shopping.

The first night they went to a large children's store for nursery furniture. It could all be brand-new, in the boxes; no one in their new home would be surprised at that. They had a list, a hand-out from Laura's class. "Cribs first," Andrew decreed, and they walked to the furniture section of the enormous store.

There were, he guessed conservatively, a hundred cribs on display.

Lily simply stopped, her hands at her sides, and stared.

"You all right?" he asked. He put one arm around her.

"Whhhh," she answered.

"Lily?"

"We're going to buy a crib," she said, very softly.

"Yes."

"To put in our great big house."

"Yes."

"And put our baby in it."

"Lily, are you all right?"

She turned to him, her eyes glittering. "We're going to have a baby."

Andrew blinked. "Yes, love, we've known that for a while now," he said carefully.

"No," Lily answered. "I knew I was carrying your baby. I knew she was here." She patted her belly. "But the difference between having her in here and having her in there …" she gestured to the nearest crib, "…that's a whole different thing."

"Did you think you were going to be pregnant forever?" her husband asked, still skating gently through the whole bewildering conversation.

"Subjectively, I already have been pregnant forever," Lily replied simply.

Andrew regarded her gravely. "You're starting to worry me."

Lily laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm not going insane, really. I'm not. It's just … I don't know. Just … look at this list. This baby's going to be here in five weeks, more or less, and we haven't bought a damn thing for her."

"Well, except for an enormous house on the water."

"There is that," she allowed. "I'm just … I'm sorry, I'm a little overwhelmed."

Andrew smiled and kissed her. "Would you feel better if we had a place for her to sleep?"

"I would, yes."

"Then pick one." He gestured around them. "We'll start here, we'll get everything on the list, and that'll be one less thing to worry about."

Lily sighed. "You are so wonderfully practical sometimes."

He grinned. "You think that's practical? Try this. I think we should buy two of everything and set up a day nursery downstairs."

"Ahhh. Can we do that?"

Andrew put his slender fingers on her cheek and leaned closer. "Lily, my love," he whispered, "we can do anything we want."