Page 8 of The Treasure House

“Is New Mexico hot?” Flo cocked her head.

“So I hear,” Wayne told her.

“Automatic no, then. Even before we worry about its name.”

“You’re running out of states.”

“Am not.” Flo fetched her atlas and opened it to a double-page spread of the country. “There’s plenty left.”

They pored over the map and I felt a burst of affection for them.

“Oh, good God,” Suni squeaked, “was that a cockroach or a rat?” She pulled her feet up from the floor, staring in horror at the gap between the fridge and the wall.

“Cockroach,” Flo said, without looking up from the map.

“Maybe.” I craned my neck. “We do have a resident mouse.”

“No, Angus McMouse lives in our bedroom,” Flo said absently, “not the kitchen.”

“He must come out to eat, though.” I eyed the kitchen. I hated mice.

“A dog would keep the mice away,” Flo told me brightly.

“Maybe a treasure house would be a step up…” Suni kept her feet determinedly off the floor. “Although, they probably all have mice too.”

“The trick is to pick a house that’s structurally sound,” Wayne advised, mopping pizza grease off his face with a paper towel. “Mice can be dealt with.”

“With a dog,” Flo added.

Wayne benevolently ignored her. “Cosmetic damage is fine, but you want structural integrity.”

“How do I do that? Make sure it’s sound.” I felt a wave of panic. Oh God. What if I bought a treasure house and it fell down on our heads while we slept? Some of these places looked like death traps.

“You get an inspection,” Wayne said calmly. He really was taking this madness in his stride.

“I want seasons,” Flo decided loudly, still considering her maps. “I don’t want to live without snow days.”

“Fair enough.” Wayne nodded. “I like a good snow day too.”

“Can we live near the beach?”

“Snow and beach?” Wayne looked dubious.

“Sure, like the Taylor Swift song.” She started humming it.

“What’s on your must list?” Suni asked me, cutting in.

“Good schools, a garden, and now structural integrity.”

“And seasons and a beach,” Wayne reminded me.

I added them to the list. “This might be getting ambitious.”

“You’ll just have to take a place with extra junk to afford it.”

By the time we had polished off the pizza, we had a solid list of must-haves and a few absolutely nots. Including a list of states Flo refused to set foot in, not even for a dog. Florida was infested with alligators, Connecticut had sneaky spelling, which had made her lose a spelling bee once, and Arizona was riddled with cacti, which were too spiky to be acceptable garden plants. She was nothing if not firm in her opinions.

“I’m really not crazy?” I murmured to Suni, as I kissed her and Wayne goodbye.