I followed the laughing idiots down the escalator to baggage. While we stood by the carousel, waiting with the other passengers from my flight, Sophie described the place they’d found for me to live. We’d arranged it while I was still in Boston, and I’d signed the rental agreement and paid first and last months’ rent and a security deposit.

“Nick Daire, your new landlord, was a member of Miguel’s entrepreneur group before he, well, retired. Your place is a sweet little guest house on his property that he is happy to rent out to you for six months while you decide if Phoenix is the perfect fit for you—which it is,” Sophie said.

Miguel made a pained face and I studied him, trying to figure out what that meant. Was his look of doubt about Mr. Daire or me?

“I take it ‘happy’ isn’t exactly the word to describe how he feels about leasing his guest house?” I asked, trying to gauge what he was thinking.

Miguel shrugged. “He offered so we accepted.”

I got the distinct impression there was much more to this than he was telling me, but I decided to see the place before I panicked.

“Rents in Phoenix, while not as bad as Boston, are insane,” Sophie said. “This place is perfect because it’s right down the street from the office. You won’t even need a car.”

That seemed promising. My bags appeared, and Miguel hauled them off the carousel. I had three big rollers so we each took one and headed for the parking garage. As soon as we stepped outside, I felt the desert warmth engulf me. I had a feeling I’d be packing my winter coat away for the duration of my stay. Not a hardship.

As we drove out of the garage, the midday sun—bright beautiful sun!—was blinding, and I dove into my handbag for my sunglasses. We were in their SUV, and I had taken the back seat. Sophie turned around to face me, pointing out the features of the area—Camelback Mountain, which really did look like a camel lying down; Tovrea Castle, a crazy wedding cake–looking building that some guy had built for his wife; and Tempe Town Lake, yes, an actual man-made lake in the middle of the city—as we cruised toward our destination.

I’d been to the desert only once before, for their wedding, and while I remembered being awed by the red mountain vistas and humungous saguaro cacti, I’d mostly been in a frenzy of wedding prep, which meant a lot of spa time and poolside margaritas, so my memories were shrouded in a lime-infused tequila haze.