She rolled her eyes and smiled to herself, pulling her coat more tightly. “Are you sure you did it right? I’ve heard electricity is complicated.”

As her words echoed across the snow, the windows of Liefdehuis lit up, as if thousands of candles had been set aflame all at once. She gasped.

Clear, clean light reflected off the snow, as though the sun had gotten bored with night and had decided to make a surprise appearance. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, simply staring at the sight in front of her until she heard Sam walking across the snow towards her.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Not me,” he said, winding an arm around her waist and looking down at her before turning his attention to the house. “But it’s not bad.”

The house was done, and as soon as she wrote the final section on electrical lighting the book would be done, too. Unsurprisingly, the marriage of the recently scandalous Mrs. Alva Webster and the famous inventor Mr. Samuel Moore had resulted in an enormous amount of press. What was surprising, Alva thought, was how positive it had all been—it seemed as though Sam’s innate goodness really was infectious. The publisher was thrilled, with the publicity and the early drafts, and was already urging her to sign a deal for several more books focusing on interior design. She had Henry reading over the contracts.

She let her eyes run over the front of the house, enjoying the ability to see so clearly in the night. The light reflected off the metallic letters they had hung over the entrance.

“Rose House,” she said to herself, and grinned when Sam squeezed her waist. “When I bought it I thought I was buying it to live in. This is better.”

With Rose House finished, Alva would be turning the keys over to the manager of the trust she and Sam had created, dedicated to the compassionate care of people suffering from mental disturbances. The town of Hyde Park had been surprisingly accepting of the idea when Alva had first brought it to them, and adapting the house so it could welcome more inhabitants than originally intended had also been a smooth process. Rose House would be a beacon of care in a medical field too little understood and too often dominated by violence and ignorance.

“Of course, with this project complete, I’ll finally have time to start the design work on our own house,” she said.

Sam pretended to groan, but it was barely out before he spoke. “Actually, about my laboratory building…”

“Nothing will be done to your lab without your express permission,” she said, laughing and pulling his head down to kiss him. It had been a year and still her whole body sang when she touched him.