At least this window had screens. After opening the sash, Drue stood at the picture window, which now left the room flooded with light. Outside, she could see what was left of the narrow patch of lawn Papi had seeded and weeded and babied. The tangerine tree she’d climbed to pick fruit to eat out of hand (and to use as ammunition in the never-ending rotten-fruit wars with the Harrell boys), was still there, stunted now and nearly leafless. But beyond it stood the fringe of Australian pines, and beyond that, the dunes. Just barely visible was a sliver of turquoise ocean.

She sucked in her breath. It had never occurred to her until this moment that her grandparents had given her the room with the best view of the water. In fact, they had always lavished her with the best of everything they had to give. She put a hand to the grimy glass. Even now, Nonni and Papi were looking out for her.

Her cell phone rang. She extracted it from the pocket of her jeans and reluctantly answered.

“Hey Dad.”

“How’s the house?”

She walked back toward the front door, mouth-breathing as she went. She stood outside on the abbreviated front porch, gulping in the clean air.

“Pretty grim.”

“Sorry about that, but you’re young. Probably nothing a little elbow grease can’t fix.”

Staring around the corner of the living room, she saw a mound of plaster shards she’d overlooked earlier. Glancing up she saw the source of the problem. A huge brown water stain blossomed over the ceiling, where the raw lath was exposed.

“Yeah, elbow grease and a new roof,” she muttered.

“I meant to ask, what are you doing for furniture?”

“I dunno,” she admitted. “My old garage apartment came furnished. All I brought was my clothes, my kiteboard rig, some books and my coffeemaker.”

“Pretty much what I figured,” Brice said. “After we talked earlier, it occurred to me that we’ve been paying rent at a self-storage place out in Pinellas Park ever since we redecorated our house. I know there’s some of your grandparents’ stuff left from after Nonni died, and of course, the stuff from my ‘bachelor pad’ that Wendy made me get rid of. I don’t remember what all’s there, but you’re welcome to it, if you want.”

Drue ground her back molars. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she didn’t need Wendy’s rejects, but she forced herself to reconsider. The reality was, she needed those hand-me-downs. Spite could wait.

“Uh, thanks. That’d help a lot.”

“I’ll text you the address, unit number and key code for the gate, but you’ll need to come by here to pick up the keys. Anything else?”