“Welcome to the Bell family home!” Poppy says. She’s pointing upward, and when I follow her outstretched finger…

The entire world stops.

We’re standing in front of what I can only describe as the warmest, most exceptionally charming house I have ever seen. It is very New England, two stories high, red brick, old and grand but somehow still cozy, with neat rows of windows, a generous coating of ivy, and a brick walkway leading up to a cobalt-blue door. But it’s the gardens that really solidify the magic. Deep flower beds overflow with luscious greenery, punctuated by bursts of flowers of all different heights and colors. An arched trellis drips with purple-blue morning glories, and pink climbing roses reach over the waist-high fence. Three magnolia trees stand under a window, their pink cup-shaped petals open to the sun.

Love at first sight apparently applies to houses, and I am experiencing it in real time. I inhale, drawing in the scent of a thousand flowers. I exhale, and a weight seems to leave my body. It reminds me of the sensation I had when Bea took me to see the Eiffel Tower for the first time—a creeping assurance that my feet were always meant to stand in this exact spot.

“This is it?” I whisper. I can’t tear my eyes from it.

Poppy links arms with me. “You can feel it, can’t you, dear?”

She doesn’t have to explain what she means because I am feeling it. It’s a settling, peaceful feeling. Like my feet are suddenly more connected to the earth, and I can let my shoulders unwind. It takes longer than it should for me to recognize the feeling.

Home. This place feels like home.

I glance over to see my mom staring up at the house too, her face solemn. “You really grew up here?” My voice is accusing. Disbelieving. I have a million other questions, such as Who would ever leave this place? and Why do you look like you want to go sprinting up the street? but I figure I’ll start with the obvious.

Violet pipes up. “This house has been in the family for generations. It was Daisy’s when the girls were young, and then after she died, it sat empty for years. Sage really had her work cut out for her.”

Violet claps her hands together. “Rosemary, you’re going to be so delighted! Oh, the improvements! Sage was maniacal in getting the details right. Can you believe she restored the gardens? Daisy always said she wanted to do this very thing, and now Sage has done it. They’re exactly like the house’s earliest photographs.”