“C’mon, kiddo,” I say to Sonny, standing. He jumps off and leads me down the stairs to the kitchen, the new appliances—a restaurant-quality Wolf stove, huge refrigerator, double ovens—gleaming in the sun. I open the patio door and forget how much the space has been transformed, especially now that the construction on the fish house is completed and Frank’s crew and equipment have finally disappeared. The new concrete patio has been divided into two distinct spaces, separated by a row of arborvitae. The smaller side features a built-in grill and cooking station. The larger side showcases a built-in water feature, a six-foot-high meditating Buddha sculpture, a Tibetan singing bowl and some beautiful polished planters that I will fill with trailing vine and annuals. The concrete pad merges into what will soon be newly planted sod, a large outdoor space where I will lead—weather permitting—my yoga sessions. The space looks nothing like my parents’ largely forgotten patio, and I am awestruck by how gorgeous it is, especially now that the trees are once again leafing out and providing a verdant canopy over the space.

Sonny walks over to me and does a perfect downward dog.

“You’re hired,” I say with a laugh, bending down to pet him.

I cross the lawn to the fish house, now a pretty guest cottage and honeymoon suite tucked behind a newly planted hedge. “Thank you, Mr. Capone,” I say. “Thank you, Sadie.” I stop. “Thank you, Iris.”

I worked with her to ensure that the guest cottage retained the authentic look and character of the fish house, down to its shingles. And a plaque citing its historical significance was added to the front. I open the door and smile. But I was able to renovate the space completely, adding new, bigger windows, a small kitchen as well as a master bath.

Most importantly, I kept many of my father’s favorite things that made the fish house so special. Vintage Cubs pennants have been made into pillows, some of his prized catches are mounted on the wall alongside my drawings. But the cottage’s centerpieces are his vintage Helmscenes. I softened the overall look of the cottage with beautiful fabrics and lush throws and rugs, but it still feels like a throwback, a getaway cabin, a place where you want to hide from the rest of the world.

I shut the door and smile again when I remember what I had named this cottage.

GUEST COTTAGE & COTTAGE RULE #3

NAP OFTEN!

“In honor of you, Dad,” I whisper, running my finger over the plaque.

I head inside, Sonny on my heels, and stop in the entry. There are two new additions to the wall where my family framed the Capone bullet hole. A copy of Sadie’s letter now sits framed above Capone’s infamous outburst, while one of the cow shoes used by Capone’s bootleggers is centered in a shadow box below it.