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The guys hauled the urns up and set them by the entrance doors where Sonya and Cleo deemed them perfect.

They scoured the upstairs areas for more.

“I swear every time I come up here, I see something I missed. Son, look at these chairs.”

“Love! Wouldn’t they be great on the lawn?”

“If you want them trashed after a couple rains. They won’t take the weather,” Owen told them. “You want to put something like that outside, you need teak, maybe cedar, larch, or something that’s sealed and waterproofed.”

“Oh. See anything? Furniture for the back deck over the apartment’s on the list.”

After a hunt, he came up with two Sonya/Cleo–approved chairs and a table.

A dustcover slid down and to the floor. “Somebody likes that bench,” Sonya decided.

“Somebody’s got a good eye.”

Hands in pockets, Trey studied it. A graceful curve of woven metal, it had a fanning back, arms, and sadly peeling white paint.

“You’d need a scour brush to take off the old paint, then pick out your color—waterproof metal spray paint.”

“See. Minor repairs. And…” Owen pointed over to where another dustcloth fluttered to the floor. “Somebody likes those chairs to go with it.”

“They’re great!” Cleo wove her way over. “Metal again, and thebacks are like scallop shells. We could clean these up and paint them, Sonya.”

“They’d look perfect on the deck. We could sit out and watch the sunset behind the trees. Vintage, not new and modern. They really suit the house.”

“I remember those. Collin used to put them out just where you’re talking about. The bench? I think I’ve seen pictures with that bench in it. Wait.”

Trey closed his eyes, tried to visualize.

“His wedding. You flipped my memory switch,” Owen told him. “I’ve seen some pictures of him and Johanna on that bench. Wedding day stuff.”

“That’s it. Only they had it in the front. I don’t remember ever seeing it there, so probably just for the wedding. She’s in the white dress, he’s in a gray suit. And there’s one with my parents on either side. Mom’s got that on the bookshelf in the living room.”

“I’d like to see it when we’re there tomorrow. Cleo and I can bring the bench, the chairs back to life. Right, Cleo?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cleo and I can handle a chair each if you guys can handle the bench. We could just take them outside, leave them there until we pick out the paints and fix them up. We still have to hit the garage and the shed, but I’ll stop and get the keys to the apartment.”

As Trey and Owen got on either side of the bench, they exchanged a look.

“‘A while,’ he said,” Trey muttered.

With the women out of earshot, Owen risked a mutter of his own. “They’re going to want us to come back and haul down thatdarlingpiecrust table and thatadorableplant stand.”

“Don’t forget themajesticten-ton bench for the foyer.”

“I’m trying to. Why am I always the one backing down the stairs?”

“Your bad luck. Easiest way is take it out the back once we get down there.”

“‘Easiest,’ he said.”

They caught up with the women, who’d paused in the grand foyer to discuss bench placement.

“I know it’s a lot,” Sonya said as they continued back. “But every time we bring something down, it’s like making it more ours. We’ll take a break after the shed, promise. We could have a drink out on the deck.”