“The Judge is wearing her leopard print scarf today,” Bo said as we began our trek up the regal, curved staircase. He carried both our suitcases, one in each hand. “That usually signals a mood that is more, let’s say, feisty than usual.”

“I think she looks like an artist,” Wallis said. “Is this the part where you tell us that underneath her stern demeanor is a heart of mush? Please tell us she has a soft spot for romantic comedies.”

“Alas,” Bo said, laughing after the first flight. “What you see is what you get.”

“How old did you tell her I was?” I asked Bo.

“I don’t think I said anything that would suggest you were a geriatric. Maybe because I always talk about my boss this and my boss that. Anyway,” he said. “This is the family’s floor. My parents’ room is at the end of the hall. Mine is just to the right of it, with the dark green walls. Originally, I was up a level, but when I was in high school, my mother moved me down here. Wanted to keep an eye on me.”

“Because you were a huge party boy,” I said, grinning.

“Exactly,” said Bo. “Partying with my model train set.”

Wallis squealed. “I forgot you were such a nerd!”

Bo gazed toward his childhood bedroom. I’d never known him to be ashamed of his admittedly dorky adolescence before, but there was something in his face that seemed regretful. Whatever it was, he heaved up our suitcases and continued the climb. “Okay, one more flight to go.”

“I’m dying for a tour,” Wallis said, gawping at the Judge’s art along the staircase, which ranged from modern, geometric circles to classic oil still lifes. “Do you think you can sneak me through later?”

“Yes,” said Bo, somehow charging up the stairs much faster than we were. “We’ll start with the cellar first. That’s where the good wine is.”

“And the Wi-Fi code,” Wallis said.

“Wallflower,” Bo said as we caught our breaths on the final landing, “I got you. Hand me your phone.” A few seconds later: “There now. Happy? Yes, Daisy, look at Wallis’s face. It’s the face of someone who can now scroll and ‘like’ the day away.”

“Daisy is always after me about my data usage,” Wallis said.

“Right,” he said, gesturing to a room on his left. “You’re here.”

Ever the gentleman, he held the door open for us as we filed in. Our room was sloped-ceilinged, and had a sleigh bed made of dark wood. The walls were painted valentine’s red. Two dormer windows overlooked the drive; below us, the catering crew unloaded linens. Someone—maybe Bo or the Judge’s assistant—had placed a smaller arrangement of the entry hall flowers on the bedside table. It was cozy and charming, this room, and I loved it.