He squints past me toward the back, where Penelope is already standing on the sidewalk, hands on her hips, surveying the building like she's about to grade it.

Chad appears beside her, a cardboard box labeled "Kitchen—FRAGILE" balanced on one shoulder, grinning wide enough to split his face.

A window on the second floor creaks open, and a familiar voice cuts through the warm air like a siren.

Tasha leans out, one elbow propped on the sill, a glass of something pink in her hand. She's got on a sleek silk robe despite it being four in the afternoon, and she looks down at us like a queen surveying her new subjects.