They returned to the Octagon House early Saturday morning. Lily drove ahead in the sedan, and Andrew followed with the moving truck. It was fairly full of things they'd acquired out of town, most of it used: clothes, books, bedding, a few good pieces of furniture, a television, a stereo, a few boxes of papers and knick-knacks, winter coats, shoes and boots, and a fairly impressive collection of used dishes and kitchen implements, most packed in mismatched boxes, with a dozen brand new boxes from the moving company thrown in. In the nose of the truck was a complete new nursery set, and enough to spare for the day nursery. It had taken them all of the time they'd had, and trips to a dozen thrift stores and two flea markets. The load looked, as intended, as if the Rowans had packed up everything worth keeping in their modest little apartment.

They parked both vehicles just inside the wall on the newly-cut grass to the south of the house. The yard still looked like hell; it had been cut with a commercial tractor, but it would take a year of care before the grass could be classified as 'lawn' rather than 'pasture'. It was at the moment just tipped with frost; by the time the sun was fully up it would vanish. On the far side of the house, Cox had had a full-size dumpster delivered. The plywood over the windows, they had decided, could be burned, but the carpet was probably toxic.

The Octagon House, boarded and decrepit, looked sad in the early light.

Lily stood beside the car and looked up at it. Andrew joined her. He felt again the gnawing notion that they'd taken on too much. He could not imagine how, in the space of one day, this house could be habitable. He could not imagine Lily sleeping in this house tonight. Never mind that Lily had, in the past, slept in ditches in freezing rain under mortar fire. That was a different life, and a different Lily. There were standards now that he would not allow her to slip below.

He sighed heavily. He knew how much she wanted to be in their new home today. But it seemed impossible.

Lily squeezed his hand. "Let's go look at our ocean," she said.

Andrew nodded. They walked around the house and down the gentlest slope to the sea. The waves were fairly flat, lapping politely at the shore before retreating, returning, retreating, as they had for a thousand years and more. As they would long after the Octagon House had crumbled to dust.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the salt air. The ever-present breeze brushed through his hair, tickled into his beard. Lily's hand was warm and firm in his. If she had any qualms about this move, about this house, they didn't show. Lily had her ocean, at last, and everything else was gravy.

It didn't matter to her, he knew, if they had to sleep on cots in the kitchen and eat out of tin cans. Nothing mattered to her but that they were together in their house by the sea.

Their home. And if it didn't look like he wanted their home to look for a year or two, no matter. Their home was where they were together. The house was just a building.

"Better?" she asked quietly.

"Better," Andrew breathed. It would become their home, today. It was not impossible. Nothing was impossible, not with Lily beside him.

"Hello, neighbors!" Cox yelled from the top of the hill. "Are we ready to move in or what?"

They checked their lists. The chimneys had been cleaned and checked. The plumbing had been checked and re-checked; the hot water was consistently hot. The roof was tight, and the underlyment drying out nicely. The exterminator had been through twice. No bugs, lots of mice. "I'd get a cat or two," Cox advised. "Out here in this field, you're always going to have mice trying to sneak in."

The Rowans exchanged a look. "I like cats," Lily said.

"Once we get settled," her husband agreed.

Back to the lists. Cox had brought five-gallon buckets of heavy cover paint, and all the equipment needed. He'd also brought new lock sets for all the doors, with matching keys. He'd checked all the wiring in the house and was satisfied that it was safe. "And I got the washer and dryer in yesterday."

"In where?" Lily asked.

"In the pantry, where you wanted it," Cox answered.

"I did?"

"Ah." The contractor pointed at her husband. "He said you did."

Andrew shrugged. "I didn't want you running up and down those basement stairs to wash my shirts."

"You didn't want me running up and down those stairs? What makes you think I'm going to be doing the laundry?"

"Well, now it's convenient, you might as well do it. While you're making my dinner. Barefoot. Pregnant. In the kitchen." He patted her ass fondly. "Right, love?"

"Uh-huh," Lily said, laughing. "Or you can do the laundry while you're making my dinner, while I sit with my bare pregnant feet on the couch."

"That's how it always is at my house," Cox said wearily. "Anyhow, the washer and dryer are in, and you can figure out who runs them later. Oh, and the mammoth dishwasher the coast guard installed still works. Go figure." He glanced at his watch. "I told the band kids to be here at ten. It's almost nine, I'd expect people to start showing up any minute."

"Oh, it's that kind of town, is it?" Andrew ventured.

"I said there'd be food."

"You better get them shoes off and get cooking then," Rowan teased his wife.

"No, no, don't worry about that," Cox said. "We've got it handled. Everything's taken care of. You just stay here and direct traffic."

Lily sighed. "Why are the good ones always married?" she mused.

"I thought we'd better start on the top floor with the windows. The walkway should be solid enough, it's treated lumber, but I don't want any school kids up there until we check it, fix that rail."

"Agreed," Andrew said. He turned and considered the house. "The master suite, I think. You brought hammers?"

"I got 'em."

"Let's get to it, then."

The three of them went around to the kitchen door, then climbed resolutely to the dark bedroom. The French doors swung inward rather than out, because they would have blocked the narrow walk otherwise. Andrew opened them almost reverently and considered the plywood that covered the opening.

"I was thinking we might need to …" Cox began.

He stopped, because Andrew had dropped back four steps, charged the wood, and crashed against it with his shoulder. The wood cracked and the nails groaned. It did not open cleanly, but a space about four inches wide opened between the house and the plywood. He flattened his hands and shoved, and the wood gave further. Cox joined him for the next push. The nails screamed in protest as they were forced from their ten-year beds in the doorframe. Then they gave up. The sheet of plywood teetered, then fell, flipped over the railing and crashed into the yard below.

For the first time in a decade, morning light filtered into the bedroom. Cool fresh air washed into the house.

Andrew examined the view, then turned and held his arm out to his wife. "Come here."

She joined him. "There," he said, gesturing to the sea that lay calmly beneath their gaze. "Is that what you had in mind?"

Lily nodded, swallowed. "That's it exactly."

"Good." He kissed her forehead. "Because we are never moving again."

They all heard the car – perhaps a truck – on the road, then on the broken driveway. "Help's here," Cox said.

"Let's go get them organized," Andrew answered, "and then let's get this old girl opened up."

Penny Gambrell had been right: When they got the band kids, they got the parents.

In fact, they got the parents first.

"I'm Heather, this is Gina," the first woman out of the car said. "We brought the breakfast things. Where shall we set up?"

"Hi, I'm Lily, and I have no idea."

"Operations insides," Cox said, "food outside. It's going to be a nice day. You bring tables?"

"Of course."

The men unloaded two folding tables from the van and set them up on the grass a clear distance from the house. "You handle this," Andrew instructed. "I've got windows to open." He trotted back towards the house, with Cox almost as eager at his side.

"I'm dying to see the house," Joan said.

"It's horrible," Lily answered. "But go ahead, if you like. The kitchen door is open."

'We really should set up first …"

"I'll start setting up," Lily said. "Go, see."

By the time the first two got back, there were three more mothers and two fathers. "It's not that bad," Heather said. "You'll see, by the end of the day you won't know the place."

There was a crashing noise from the rear of the house, and another piece of plywood landed in the yard and broke.

"Oh, my," one of the newcomers said.

"We better go help them," one of the fathers said eagerly.

The men ran off. "Something about men and demolition," Lily mused. She shook her head. "I'm Lily Rowan. The kitchen door's around that way, go have a look around."

"Oh, can we? I've been dying to see the inside."

Lily watched them go. There was another crash from the back of the house. She opened a box, took out a doughnut, still warm to the touch, and took a thoughtful bite.

It was going to be a damned interesting day.

Teenagers arrived: band kids, wrestlers, chess players, football players, cheerleaders, and kids with curious parents. Universally, they wanted to take a look around, and Lily sent them. Andrew and Cox organized them loosely into teams: carpet, sweeping, washing, taping, painting. Only adults were allowed out on the widow's walk, but the bigger boys went to work on the downstairs windows.

Douglas Miller, a reporter from the local paper showed up before the doughnuts ran out. The paper was a weekly, so small that Doug had brought his own camera. "It's a big deal," he said eagerly. "We're going to do a whole center-page spread."

"Ahhhh," Andrew said. "Let's, uh, let's go have a word about that, shall we?"

"I know what you're going to say, Mr. Rowan. Cox told me all about the situation with your ex. And I got three of my own, exes, that is, so I totally sympathize."

"Good."

"So here's what I was thinking. I'll take a bunch of pictures of the house, before and after, and the kids. Parents will buy the issue like crazy just because their kids are in it. And then I thought maybe one of you and Mrs. Rowan in silhouette, maybe against the sunset. I'll even keep your name out of it, if you want. New owners of the Rowan Octagon House, something like that."

Andrew nodded thoughtfully. He didn't like it much, but there was no getting around it. Opening the house was a big deal to this town. There was no chance of keeping it out of the paper. Their cover story was good enough. "Maybe you could let us, you know, look it over before it goes to press?"

Miller considered. "I wouldn't usually do that, but … yeah, okay."

"Just to make sure there's nothing that would tip her off."

"You got it, Mr. Rowan."

"Andrew. Welcome to the Octagon House."

The first carpet came up in a cloud of dust. Everyone in the room coughed, including Lily. Andrew took her arm firmly. "Okay, look," he said. He pointed to where the bare floor was visible. "Lovely hardwood floors, just as expected. Now go down to the kitchen and shut the door. All this dust cannot be good for you and her."

"I'll be fine," Lily protested. "I'm not an invalid." Then she coughed, hard enough to double her over.

Penny Gambrell took her other arm. "He's right, Lily. Come on, we've got that whole kitchen to clean and set up anyhow. And I want to get my camera and take some pictures of the work in progress."

"Okay, fine," Lily snapped. She let Penny lead her out to the hall.

"Lily," Andrew called. She waited, and he joined her. Penny stepped off a bit as the man took his wife in his arms, murmured something in her ear. She listened, then nodded, kissed him on the cheek.

"Awww," Penny said softly.

There were twenty-two people in the atrium who witnessed this little exchange, and all of them were sure they understood these newcomers to their community perfectly. Older husband, rich and retired; pretty younger secretary-turned-second-wife; a little friction over the new house and the new baby, but clearly very infatuated with each other. Sweet and a little crazy, and nothing very out of the ordinary.

Their story was already becoming part of the lore of Broken Harbor.

Despite the size of the kitchen, eleven women and three girls made fairly short work of getting it clean.

The newly opened windows filled the room with light and made it easy to see the dirt. They cleaned all the appliances and got them running, then washed and lined every shelf in the kitchen and pantry, scoured down every countertop, borrowed a roller from the painting crews and washed the ceiling and floors. Then they got out the bleach and tackled the linoleum.

"It won't come clean," Penny said, "but at least it will be sanitary."

"Good enough for now," Lily answered.

Andrew came in from the hallway. "Lily, are you … wow. This looks better."

"Clean enough to eat off of," one of the ladies promised. "Speaking of which, weren't there supposed to be pizzas?"

"They'll be here in about half an hour," Penny answered.

"You're keeping track of all your expenses, right?" Andrew asked. "We want to pay you back for everything."

"We'll let you know," Heather promised.

"You could have just charged for the tours," one of the other ladies answered. "You'd have come out ahead."

Andrew shook his head. "I can't tell you how much we appreciate the help. Can I borrow my wife for a minute?"

"Just for a minute."

He took Lily's hand. "Come with me. I have something I want you to see."

"Yeah," she said, rubbing her belly with her free hand, "that's how we got into this mess in the first place."

Andrew laughed. "Come on." He led her out the back door into the yard. "Close your eyes."

"Uhh … no."

"Trust me."

"No, wait, that's how we got into this mess."

He put his arm firmly around her shoulder. "Close your eyes."

Lily sighed, but did as he asked. He guided her carefully through the rough grass to the road and turned her around. "Okay, now," he said.

She opened her eyes.

Before her, the Octagon House stood unwrapped. Every window was open, every set of doors. The house was itself again. The house was alive.

It needed paint, boards replaced, rails repaired. But the Octagon House was beautiful.

"Oh."

Andrew nodded. "Yes."

"It's beautiful."

"A beautiful house for my beautiful wife."

"Andrew …"

"Lily?"

She didn't answer. She just turned around and kissed him, deeply.

"Hey, you two!" Cox called from the upper window, "Get a room!"

"I got a whole bunch of rooms," Andrew shouted back, "but they'll all full of people!" He led his wife onto the front porch. "Mrs. Rowan, would you like to see your house?"

"I would." She stepped towards the door.

He took her arm and stopped her. Then he swung her up into his arms and carried her across the threshold, through the front hall and into the atrium.

"Put me down," Lily protested. "I weigh a ton."

"No, you don't." He deposited her gently onto her feet. "I could carry you all day if I had to."

She turned slowly, all the way around. From every doorway, light flooded into the center of the house. "Andrew …" she began, and then stopped.

"I know."

She held both his hands, very hard. "If I had a bed, I'd have to go hide under it."

He regarded her with calm concern. Her hands were like ice. "We could walk down to the beach for a minute."

Lily swallowed hard, nodded. "Just for a minute."