There was a shortage of the paint color for the exterior, so it’s a different shade of white. Half the shutters on the windows came in the wrong pattern so we switched them out midway through construction. Who the hell cares? If it’s right in Jane’s eyes, it’s right.

Looks pretty good to me, too. We share a property line with the boundary of Coach House’s grounds. The rebuilt Coach House is in sight of ours. Most importantly, it’s within running distance for Paige. She can leave the door of Coach House and come over without going out of view for a second. Paige and Emily have a space that’s all theirs. Refreshed and new, without any hauntings or bad memories. Coach House has the same massive, cliffside shape as it always did. It was registered as a historical property, so when it was rebuilt, it had to be to the old specifications. Updated electric, of course. Modern safety features. Traditional design.

Jane shades her eyes with her hand and looks over our house. In shape, it’s more modern to Coach House. That kind of design made the most sense. Ours isn’t as large, and it’s much lighter, both in paint colors and actual light. Windows everywhere. Stunning views. Enough bedrooms to have Paige stay over. Paige and guests, even.

“Let me show you the inside.” I’m nervous for her to see it. Not all of it will be a surprise to her, but some things will. I want her to love this place. If she doesn’t, I’ll tear the whole thing down and start again.

“Okay,” she agrees.

Jane has seen the plans for the interior, but not the actual progress as we’ve worked. She follows me like an excited puppy. A wide, sunny foyer welcomes us into the house. Stairs lead up to the second floor.

“Straight back is the kitchen.” I can see the countertops from here. “Living room’s on our left.”

“Show me the bedrooms,” Jane says. “Then we’ll come back downstairs.” We go up together, Jane taking the stairs two at a time. “It smells so nice in here,” she says with a sigh.

“It smells new. It smells like paint.”

She laughs. “I like it.” I like it, too. At Coach House, I was always looking over my shoulder. My brother’s presence seemed like it was part of the walls there. Part of the furniture. Here, everything is for us. Jane turns a corner into a bedroom. “Paige?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God,” she breathes. “She’s going to love it.”