Michael picked at the soil under his fingernails. His sweatshirt was covered in dust from the pavers he’d moved for a patio job. He hated that he always came home dirty. He could feel the dried sweat on his face and back and the grease in his hair. “I think something’s going on at the house.”

“What house?”

“The house in Wellfleet. Where I used to live.”

“Your family, Michael.”

“They’re not my family. You guys are.”

Michael regretted that he’d ever told Shelby and Deedee about his past with the Gordon family. He stood up and walked to the window. He looked out over the miniature waterfall and hyacinth bushes in the small courtyard surrounded by the rental units. Shelby had painted them a blue-green that reminded him of the color of toothpaste. He hated the color, but he wasn’t in a position to complain, and he didn’t care very much anyway. Someday he’d have his own place, but for now, his unit was fine. It was small, mercurial, and had nothing to do with him, from the lace curtains to the floral-print bedspread and old-fashioned washstand. He didn’t care about the décor or the fact that he had to share a bathroom with strangers. The guests weren’t a problem; they were courteous and fun, happy, on vacation, and some of them came back every year and became friends.

Deedee threw a spoon at his shoulder. “Would you look at me so we can have a conversation?”

Michael took a long drink of his beer. “I’ve got something for you guys.” He pointed out the window at the green couch.

“The hell you do.”

“It’s from their house.”

“I don’t care if it’s from the Palace of Versailles. That’s an ugly beast and we don’t have a place for it.”

“Yeah you do, the courtyard. It would be perfect out there. It’s for the outdoors.”

Deedee stared out the window at the couch, perched upside-down in the bed of his truck. “It’s for a dump.”

“It’s not a puppy I’m asking you to take care of. I live here, too. I want it.”

“Why do you suddenly want something? The only thing you own is the shirt on your back. You live like a monk. And now you want an ugly-ass couch you found on the side of the road? Forget the couch. Buy something nice for yourself.”

“It’s mine.”

“It’s going to look awful against the blue paint.”

“Anything would look awful against that blue.”

Michael saw Shelby walk past the window, the sunlight glinting off the tiny sapphire stud in her nose. Her hair was so fine and fair that in the light it almost looked see-through. She entered the house smelling of eucalyptus, wearing her ugly cork nursing clogs that were comfortable for a long day of standing over prone bodies.

“Hiya!”