Page 63 of The Treasure House

Erica made excited noises as I showed her images of our junk-filled rooms.

“And this is the porch you want to paint green?” she asked, as she zoomed in on the details of our currently screenless and stripped-bare porch. “And what’s that?”

She was looking at the other end of the porch.

“The, uh, laundry.” I had to laugh at the look on her face. “It’s in original condition,” I joked. “With vintage features.”

“Oh, dear God. Rip that off, honey. You could make one big, long lovely porch. It wouldn’t take much to take down that corrugated iron and put up frames for screens instead. Wouldn’t it be a big space then? Forget that dark green, though, stained timber would be nicer.”

“I like this white porch here,” Carrie said, pointing at another page in the magazine. “It’s got Kennedy compound written all over it.”

“I don’t think I’m the Kennedy compound type,” I said dubiously, staring down at the nautical white indoor/outdoor room.

“Well, what type are you?”

I thought about it. “I don’t know.”

“Whatever you do, keep it simple.” I jumped a mile as I realized Dr. Nock was standing behind me, staring down at the photo on my phone.

“The focus is supposed to be on the view, not the room,” he said. “Looks like a nice big garden.” He took an apple from the fruit basket on the table and wandered off again.

He was right, I realized, as I went back to the magazine. The reason I was drawn to the page with the blue-green room wasn’t the color of the paint, it was the way the woods glowed beyond the frames of the screens.

“What kind of flooring have you got?” Erica asked, finishing off the dog coat.

“Floorboards on the porch side, brick on the laundry side.”

“Do you want to keep it like that or change both to brick or both to boards?”

“I don’t know.” I sighed explosively. “There are too many decisions to make. And I don’t know what kind of person I am,” I said plaintively. How could I be over thirty and not know what kind of person I was, whether or not I was a Kennedy compound type, or even if I preferred bricks to boards?

“Do as little as possible,” Dr. Nock advised as he returned to fill his coffee mug. “Old houses are not to be messed with. Buff them up and smooth off the edges and then leave them be.”

I’d said something similar to Jake, I remembered, about letting houses be what they were. “But don’t you think it’ll look odd if half the floor is brick and half is board?”

“Do you?” His gray eyes were clear and uncompromising.

“No,” I blurted.

“Well, there you go.” And off he went again.

“Girls?” Tam, the last of the receptionists, who was managing the desk while we lunched, stuck her head into our little kitchen/common room. “I’ve got an emergency!”

The mood shifted, everyone alert.

“Oh, not that kind of emergency. It’s just about this evening’s NA meeting. My mother’s had a bit of an episode in the home, but I’m supposed to be here to help Dr. Nock tonight. Can someone sit in for me? It’s just doing the coffee and snacks and tidying up after.”

“Ah, honey, I can’t. I’m babysitting tonight.” Erica was regretful.

“I’ve got friends coming over to rewatch the Anthony season of Bridgerton,” Carrie said, not sounding regretful in the slightest.

“Sorry, Tam, it’s Zumba night.” Shirleen did a shimmy.

Tam looked increasingly tense.

“I might be able to do it,” I said tentatively, even though the mention of Narcotics Anonymous made my stomach clench. “I just need to check my planner to see what time I have to get Flo. I haven’t got our schedule memorized yet.” Tam followed me to my desk, all but wringing her hands. “What time is the meeting?” I asked as I skimmed the week.

“Six till seven-thirty.”