That was it.

The rest was comfortable, cushiony furniture, some in attractive tweed (the armchairs), some in worn leather (the couch). The tables were topped in everything from what appeared to be an old baseball ensconced in a glass block, bronze figurines (two, both art deco, one that looked like an angel without wings, arms out, head back, as if ascending to the heavens, the other an elephant) to multi-paned standing frames filled with photos from a variety of eras, sepia to color.

To the right was a long hall I suspected led to bedrooms and bathrooms.

As I followed Cillian, I saw on the walls of the hall an expertly scattered display of frames that were mostly pictures of Mickey’s kids, from babyhood to recently. These were interspersed with pictures of what, to my fascinated eyes, appeared to be Mickey from a baby through adolescence and even into adulthood.

These included Mickey (possibly) lying in nothing but a diaper on a fur rug in front of a fire, head up, doing a baby giggle at the camera. Also Mickey in a Little League uniform, posing with cap on, wearing a grin that would mature from the cute in that picture to the heart-stopping of today, bat on his shoulder. And another with Mickey, perhaps in his late twenties, leaning back against the front of a fire rig.

There were also framed pieces of art, none of them good because all of them were done by a child’s hand, some of them signed “Aisling” others “Cillian.”

And last, there were empty spaces that didn’t fit the careful arrangement. Empty spaces that laid testimony to this being the Donovan family home considering they were at some point more than likely filled with pictures of Mickey’s wife, perhaps their wedding, them together, the family together, but now they were gone.

I knew what those empty spaces felt like in real life so by the time I made it to the back of the house, my heart was heavy.

Once I moved through the mouth of the hall, I gave myself the quick opportunity to take in the long great room that was open plan.

There was a large kitchen with gleaming, attractive wood cabinets and granite countertops to the right, delineated by a bar from the family room to the left that had a big sectional that faced a wide, flat-screen TV mounted on the wall above another, smaller and less formal, stone fireplace.

This space, too, was not imposing. It was all family, with thick rugs over the wood floors, the sectional an attractive, very dark purple twill with high backs, deep set cushions, throw pillows and afghans tossed around for maximum lounging potential.

Around the couch there were a variety of standing lamps that could offer bright lighting, say, should you wish to lounge and read, or subtle lighting, say, should you want to watch a horror movie and get in the mood.

A long, wide, carefully distressed dark wood, rectangular coffee table with drawers on the sides ran the middle of the sectional. It held a lovely globe filled with burgundy-colored sand in which a fat candle was positioned that had tiers of blue, purple and forest green.