Page 40 of The Treasure House

“You need it up like this,” Jake said as he fixed it with the ends facing up. “So you can gather up the luck. If you have it the other way, all the luck drains out.” Jake stood back and admired his handiwork.

“You didn’t strike me as the superstitious type,” I said, surprised.

He shrugged. “I didn’t say I believed it. It’s just what people do.”

“Thank you,” I said. “This—the door, the horseshoe—actually makes me feel a lot better for some reason.”

“Gotta have a door,” he said as he packed his tools away.

“Hey, Jake!”

Jake squinted down the street to where a couple of kids and their tired parents were walking toward us along Tinker Street. The kids had towels strung over their shoulders like capes and were full of energy. “Hey, Ted,” Jake called as the taller of the two kids pelted toward us. The kid was all long limbs, with sharp elbows and big feet. He reminded me of Jake’s puppy.

“That’s the de Marches,” Jake told me. “They have the summer place next to yours.” He pointed at the little white cottage next door. “Ted and Lila are probably around your kid’s age.” He pulled a face. “Although, as she keeps reminding me, Flo could just be a short teenager.”

I grinned. “She’s eleven.”

He nodded. “Ted’s older, then. He’s twelve. He’s a Twitch celebrity or something. Streams himself playing video games.”

“Jake!” Ted was tumbling up the cul-de-sac. “Dad says he’ll drive us down south to surf tomorrow!” He stopped dead as he saw me. “Is this the lady who bought Marly’s place?”

As their parents wandered up, looking hot and irritable, laden with beach bags and a cooler, Jake did the introductions. It turned out Ted’s dad, Perry, was yet another of Jake’s cousins.

“You’ve taken on quite a task there,” Perry told me as he put the cooler down. He looked like a finance bro on summer vacation, with his polo shirt and expensive sunglasses. He also looked utterly defeated by the walk up the hill.

“This house is a task that seems to get bigger by the minute,” I agreed.

“Colleen at the café said you have a kid,” Ted said, craning his neck as though he might be able to see her through the windows in my new front door.

“Ted, don’t pry,” his mother scolded, pushing her hair out of her face. She was a lithe blonde who probably usually looked sleek and chic, but right now was pink and sweating.

“My daughter’s name is Flo,” I told Ted. “She’ll be starting at the school in Camden next week. Do either of you go there?” I asked hopefully. It would be so much easier if Flo knew a couple of kids before she started.

“No, we’re from Philly. We go home in a couple of days.”

“And then school starts,” his mother said, with measurable relief.

“No one much really lives in Oxeye outside of summer,” Perry told me. “Except Jake here and the people who run the shops.”

“Plenty of people live here,” Jake told me, sounding annoyed.

“Right, kids, we’re going to shower and take a nap. Barbecue at Great Aunt Priscilla’s at seven.” Perry clapped his hands. “No arguments. Showers all around.”

The two kids pulled faces and complained loudly as their parents rounded them up.

“See you there, Jake,” Perry said with a wave. “And welcome to Oxeye, Zoe.”

They flung their beach towels over their low front fence as they went, leaving them to dry. I could hear the kids chattering as they all disappeared inside. Their summer cottage was whitewashed and cheerful, with daisy bushes by the front porch and an immaculately clipped lawn. The shutters and front door were painted a soft sea-mist gray.

“So they’re here every summer?”

“Just a few weeks of it. They share the cottage with the rest of Perry’s siblings. Perry’s always complaining he gets the dog days.” He took his toolbox and headed down the steps. “Most of the summer homes in Oxeye are old family places. People who come from Boston or Philly but aren’t fancy enough to have a place in Camden.” He gave me a wry look. “We’re not so fancy around here—sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’m not so fancy either.”

The double dimple flickered for a second. “Got a fancy front door now, though.”

“I do.” I looked at it, clinging to the feeling it gave me—the feeling that we’d made headway with this hot mess of a house. “Thank you.”