I flew from my chair and raced for the computer. I pulled it up on the browser because, of course, I had it bookmarked.

My heart stopped.

“Nicole!” I yelled.

She ran over and stood behind me.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

I pointed at the screen.

8. In the Shadows of Justice – Daniel Price

“Oh my God!” she screamed.

I leaped up and we held each other as we both started crying.

“Mom? Dad? What’s wrong?” Caitlyn asked from the doorway.

I ran over and gave her a fierce hug.

“Oomph …”

“Pumpkin, how would you like not to go to school today?”

She eyed me suspiciously. “What would we do?”

“Whatever you want.”

We spent the rest of the day bowling, going to the movies, and eating ice cream.

That night, after Caitlyn passed out in her bed from exhaustion, Nicole and I went to our room and made love more passionately than we had in years. It was a celebration of everything we had worked for.

Afterwards, we lay side by side, sweating, and in total bliss.

“Hey, Shakespeare?” she whispered. It was her favorite pet name for me.

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s time we start looking for some new digs.”

“Way ahead of you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yep. What were you thinking?”

She playfully bit her lip. “Hmm … anything?”

“Well, we may have to skip the helipad and twenty-car garage, but other than that, name it.”

“I want to live on the water. Doesn’t have to be the ocean but maybe a lake.”

“Done.” I nodded.

She laughed. “I like this little fantasy.”

I took her hand. “It’s not a fantasy anymore.”

I think that was the first time we both realized that it was finally happening. No more dreaming to take our minds off our desperate situation. No more trying to hide how broke we were from Caitlyn.

“I want to live in an old house,” Nicole said, before quickly adding, “Not ancient, but something with character.”

“Perfect.”

“What do you want?”

“Me?”

She nodded.

“I want round two.”

She laughed as I pulled her to me.

*

It took Nicole all of thirty-six hours to find the Nightingale House.

I was in love from the moment she showed me the pictures online and told me the house had a name. It was also within our price range, only an hour away in the town of Kingsbrook, Maine, and we had four hours until Caitlyn would be home from school.

“Let’s go!” she said, grabbing my wrist.

The excitement on the drive up Highway 16 was too much for conversation. The house. The town. It was all too perfect.

We exited at Kingsbrook/Willow Lake and drove down Main Street, which was lined with stately homes, all of them at least a hundred years old. The town square was rimmed with coffeeshops, antique stores, and cafés.