He pointed toward the back. “I’ll get the lemonade. Try the screened porch.”

The porch was furnished with vintage rattan, the style of sofa and chairs common in the fifties and sixties, disdained in the decades afterward and sought after by collectors now. The cushions were earth tone florals appropriate anywhere from the Adirondacks to the Everglades. Potted hibiscus added more color, and just in front of me, a lemon tree was beginning to fruit. There were still enough blossoms to lightly scent the air.

Teo dropped off two icy glasses of lemonade and returned with a plate of bakery cookies, settling next to me on the sofa, one seat cushion between us.

I helped myself to a cookie. “This really is a small piece of heaven.” The woods behind the house were dotted with large oaks hung with Spanish moss. Between porch and woods, a patio fronted a small yard planted with flowering shrubs.

“I never cared where I lived before,” he said. “I wasn’t home often enough to worry. Now it seems important.”

I turned so I could watch him. “I’ve never taken the time to do much with my place. Appearances are so important to my mother and sister. I think I made a conscious effort to be sure they weren’t important to me. Then a couple of months ago I went to an art show and fell in love with an artist’s work. There’s something about her beach scenes that I love. So I bought one, two little girls in bathing suits playing on a beach at twilight, and I hung it over my sofa. Now I think about what to add next, which is dangerous, because my place is the size of this porch.”

“I started noticing how colorless my apartment was when I had to spend so much time there during recovery. Somebody told me about this house. I had money from a worker’s compensation settlement. That’s how I was able to put a down payment on the kennels, too. I made an offer on the spot.”

“Good call.”

He set down his glass, hardly touched. “I didn’t bring you here to show you how great my new life is. I have something for you.”

He started to stand, but I held him back. “Is it? Great, I mean?”

He cocked his head. “Parts of it.”

“You seem to like what you do.”

He waited. I didn’t know what else to say, but I tried. “You’ve been through a lot.” I wondered if I could have come up with anything lamer if I’d tried for a month.

He finally smiled. “When I said I like being here alone, I meant it. Is that what you want to know?”

I shrugged. “This is all very confusing.”

“Good. You spend so much time sorting and reporting facts. Just let whatever is happening here move at its own pace.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt again. Me, either.”

“Are you planning to hurt me?”

“I didn’t plan to the last time, either.”