“You’re like a puppy with a bone. You can’t possibly care about this.”

“I care about everything,” he said, placing the floor plans into her hands and steering her out of the room. “And especially about things that are excellent. So walk me through it.”

He didn’t need to be walked through it, of course—as soon as he’d skimmed the plans he’d known exactly how they would fit into every part of the existing structure. But this time when she huffed there was a little bit of a chuckle along with the eye roll, and he knew his plan to cheer her up was starting to work. And when it did, he could start to weasel out what was bothering her.

“Fine,” she said, walking briskly towards the front entry. “This hall will open out from here. The rooms will be arrayed around the ellipses. There will be a seating area in the middle. The whole central hall will be open to the second floor.”

He peered up at the moldy ceiling. “Sometimes I get invited to fancy houses. Usually Henry gets me out of it, but sometimes I have to go because some politician or rich client wants to meet me, that sort of thing. One thing I’ve always noticed is that for all the space, there’s no freedom inside it. Just a bunch of little rooms, one after the other. Suffocating.”

Looking back down at Alva, he saw her staring at him with an arrested expression. “I wouldn’t have expected you to understand.”

“I promise to buy your book anyway,” he said, warming to the core when she laughed.

“It’s nice to have at least one copy spoken for.” She fell into step beside him, leading them towards the side of the house. “Sweeping stairs over here, leading to the second-floor bedrooms. The roof over the central hall will have an elliptical glass section mirroring the hall itself.”

“Really? You must have had a time with the engineering.”

“I’m still working it out,” she admitted. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“Yes,” he said, looking around. “I believe it will. And the outside?”

“Oh, just the usual.”

“No, I meant, will you show me?”

“Professor Moore, you’re really very kind to take an interest, but it must be below freezing outside.”

“You’re wearing a coat,” he said.

“I am,” she agreed, slowly, “but you’re not.”

“Oh,” he said, looking down in some surprise. “No, I’m always losing it. Can’t be helped. Shall we?”

“But—”

Before she could protest, he pulled her out into the fresh winter air. Snow had begun to drift down, almost invisible in the end-of-dusk light.

“You’ll freeze,” she said.

“We’d better not waste time arguing then,” he said, linking his arm with hers and guiding her around the back of the house. “So, the outside?”