“Yes,” I say. “But can you believe I haven’t even lit a fire here yet? It didn’t even occur to me. I’ve been living in a deep freeze and obsessing about the cost of heating this place. I’m here...” I stop. “And yet not here.”

Trish stands and walks over to me. “First thing you need to remember is to be present,” she says. “Isn’t that what they say in that yoga class you used to take me to? The one you dreamed of teaching one day. Be present and mindful.” Trish puts a hand on my shoulder. “Be in the moment.”

“Okay.” I nod. “Thank you.”

Trish nabs the old log carrier my parents always kept by the fire and heads toward the garage attached to the kitchen. I grab an armload of twigs, and Trish fills the carrier with firewood.

“You need to clean the garage out,” Trish yells over. “Actually use it for your car rather than storage.”

“Haven’t had time,” I call back. “And I plan on using some of that stuff in the rooms.”

Trish returns carrying the logs, her body tilted dramatically to one side like an off-kilter pendulum. “How are those sticks coming along?”

I arrange the sticks in an artful pile in the monstrous fireplace grate and then show Trish my hair, locating a piece of blue paint and pulling it free.

“You look like a Smurf in Witness Protection,” Trish says.

“I feel like a Smurf in Witness Protection.”

I grab some newspapers from the kitchen, roll some pages into little balls and place them under the grate. I pull a fireplace lighter from a drawer in the built-in—my father always kept a reserve of lighters on the ready for fires, sparklers, rules readings—and give it a few clicks until it comes to life. I light the papers, and Trish and I wait for the sticks to catch fire.

The flames lick the sticks, sputter and go out. I try again to the same result.

“Screw this,” Trish suddenly says, opening every cabinet below the bookshelves. “Aha! I knew it. Voilà!” I move closer and see a box of Duraflame logs.

Trish pulls one from the box, nestles it atop the twigs until it is sitting flat and then puts the lighter to it. The Duraflame lights immediately.

“Easy peasy,” Trish says, setting two small logs atop the Duraflame.