“That’s why I bought it,” I said, turning around to look out to sea, like the wife of a sea captain from long ago. Or like a regular person who enjoyed pleasant views. Because the view was incredible. The house, teetering though it may have been, was on what had become a nature preserve, which meant it couldn’t be expanded or torn down for a rebuild (which is what would’ve happened in a heartbeat otherwise, and a grotesque “cottage” would sit here now). Ten years ago, a monster storm had devastated this area, and none but this house had survived. The owner died in the fall, and the market for tiny, decrepit houses was soft, so I was in luck.

“You haven’t signed anything yet,” Juliet said. “It’s my professional opinion that you shouldn’t. I happen to know a few things about buildings, Sadie. This is a money pit.”

“I enjoyed us getting along for ten minutes,” I said.

“Seriously. You’ll regret this. I can loan you some money for a rental if you need it. A rental with a flushing toilet and everything.”

“I’m only staying in Stoningham till Dad gets better, and I’m not working. I’ll spruce this place up, slap on some paint and sell it at a profit.”

“Stop watching HGTV. It’s all make-believe.” She sighed and looked at me critically, as our mother taught her. “Hard to believe you have enough money for anything more than a paper bag.”

“Please. I can afford an entire refrigerator box.”

“You’re a teacher at a Catholic school.”

“It’s my art, Jules. Some people actually like what I do.”

She got that constipated look I loved so well.

As an architect of super-fabulous buildings, my sister could have recommended me to some of her clients, or commissioned me to make lobby art for, say, that corporate headquarters she designed in San Fran a couple of years ago.

She did not. She wasn’t in charge of artwork, she said, and besides, DJK usually went with . . . other artists.

By which she meant important artists. And hey. I got it. Plus, I didn’t want to make it because my sister used nepotism and threw me a bone. Still, it would’ve been nice to be able to turn her down (and have her competitors start a bidding war for me, but so far, nada).

I put my hands on my hips. “Well, I have my work cut out for me. Want to drive me to Home Depot?”

“Will you let me make you a list, at least?”

“No thanks! I got this.” I smiled.