Joad imagined Buddy De Vries, a small old man with a twisted mouth who manned the dump on hot days shirtless, deeply tanned, his fuzzy back and shoulders glistening as he tossed bags of trash into the landfill, living in this celestial locale. But there was a time when the Dutch owned everything up here. Colleen offered them another drink; they declined. They were hungry, and had been discussing what they might be offered for dinner all afternoon.

“Well, I hope you’ll come again soon,” said Colleen.

Walking back down the long driveway, Joad said, “We should get a dog.”

“What, aren’t I enough for you?”

“That was—oh my God—”

“Do we have anything in the fridge?”

Joad felt Trevor’s cocktail loosening her movements as she dropped two hamburger patties onto the hot grill. Swaying her hips from side to side, she listened to the meat spit and sizzle to a background of birdsong. She turned the patties over and walked into the house. In the kitchen, Andrew was making salad and drinking a glass of wine. Joad came in, took the glass he offered, and glanced outside to see a raccoon on its hind legs tossing a hot burger back and forth between its small black hands as it reversed into the woods. She took her phone out to film it, but it was too late. All she got was swaying bushes.

They shared the remaining burger and salad, and then a carton of ice cream.

“Nobody really owns a house,” Joad mused as she licked her spoon.

“We sure as hell better own this one,” said Andrew.

“I know we technically own it,” said Joad, “but … I mean … the last people who lived here thought they owned it, too.”

“They did own it.”

“But they only owned it because they paid money for it.”

“Pretty standard reason.”

“And Trevor thought he owned it. And the raccoons thought they owned it—and actually this land was probably stolen from the Mohicans. At least they knew they didn’t own it…”

“Are you drunk?”

“Shut up,” she said, laughing. “I just mean that land, and places, are actually all just on loan. The grass, the snakes, and everybody, doesn’t know, they don’t know that, we’re, you know, that we own them.” She gave up. Her cheeks reddened. Words so often failed her.

Andrew unfolded himself and stood, tall, wide, too big for the low room.

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?

“You know how much this place means to me.”

He went upstairs and left her staring at her empty bowl.