Weekly Packet and the Sedgwick Historical Society, nothing academic or of literary value that could gain us a Pulitzer Prize. Tell me what you two do.” He told her. “Talking to you and hearing your adoring description of your wife, I like you both already and my husband will too. The farmhouse sits atop a hill, is nice and isolated, old, somewhat run-down, has sloping floors you’ll at first have trouble maneuvering, and there’s a bit of a mouse problem, which your cats will take care of in days. But so we don’t get too many complaints about the condition of the house and the noise the wild turkeys make as they strut through the property at dawn, we keep the rent cheap. Come and take a peek, and while you’re here, we’ll all have tea.” Second summer they rented it, Gwen bought a new double bed for them, had all the rooms painted and new screens put in, and a heating stove installed in the living room for the chillier days. “We might as well have rented a luxury house for what all this is costing us,” and she said “Everything we’re adding will make the place cozier for us, even the paint job, which will cover all the smutched mosquitoes on the ceilings and walls.” A few summers later, while Emma and Tom, their landlords, were over for dinner, she asked them if it’d be possible to have a screened-in porch built for next year. “I didn’t talk this over with Martin — you’re about to see his surprise — but we’d go in for half of it. If we stop renting here, and I don’t know when that could ever be. We love the place and the house is now in such great shape, other than for the floors — the porch, like the heating stove and washer and dryer, will be yours.” Emma looked at Tom, he nodded, and she said “It’s all right with us, dear. We’d do anything to keep you on as tenants, and of course you’re talking of a very simple porch.” “What were you thinking of?” he said to Gwen later. “Wasn’t putting in new appliances and stuff enough? Suppose we can’t come back here anymore, for some reason?” and she said “And what could that be? One of us dying? The other, I’d hope, would continue to rent the house with the children till they were grown up. I realize it was unfair of me to spring it on you like that. It just came, and I’m usually not that impulsive. But just picture those magnificent sunsets and far-off storms and rainbows we’d see from the porch without being bothered by bugs. ‘Pre-dinner drinks and hummus and cheese on the porch, anybody?’ Come on; it’d be a terrific addition. And we’ve gotten away all these years with rent that’s half what a comparable place would be, not that we’d ever find another spot so beautiful and private.” Their fifteenth or sixteenth summer there, five years after Tom died, Emma told them that after they leave at the end of August she was going to renovate and winterize the house. New kitchen and bathroom and windows and floors. A furnace to replace the one that conked out thirty years ago. The foundation jacked up to make the house level. “Been thinking of doing it a long time so I can turn it into a year-rental and maybe even get a tax break out of it. I may even live there myself awhile and rent my house for the summer. Would you be interested?” and he said “Afraid not; too close to the road. Do you agree, Gwen?” and she said “Unfortunately, yes.” Later he said to her “What are we going to do now?” and she said “Same thing we did last time. Speak to friends and rental agents. Tack up notices in libraries and bookstores and wherever there’s a bulletin board. And place an ad in the two local weeklies, the Packet and the one that’s for Deer Isle.” I wish we still had the old ad,” he said. “We only have a few weeks, and look how fast it worked,” and she said “One call. But a good one. And what would we use of it: ‘small child and a second on the way’?” She checked the wording with him again. “As usual, it’s perfect,” he said. “though this time maybe add we’ve been dependable renters up here for nearly thirty years and will provide references.” They got a few leads and phone calls. All the houses rented for three to four times what they were paying Emma. “Who knew it’s become the in-place to summer?” he said. “I understand people even see celebrities dining in Blue Hill and sailing in at the yacht club there. Nobody we’d recognize, but celebrities nevertheless. Maybe we should think of a coastal area farther north in Maine or even renting in another state. Vermont,” and she said “Never. This will always be our summer destination. You feel that too, don’t you?” They got a house on Cape Rosier they could afford to rent for five weeks. “What do you want,” he said, “July or August?” and she said “Which month is hotter? But then I’d hate to return home a month before school begins, if we choose July.” During their two summers there — the second for six weeks: last half of July and almost all of August — she spent a lot of time looking for a house to buy or a small piece of land to build a house on. “You know, I hate to be so cold-blooded about it,” she said. “But with the real-estate market crashing, this could be our best chance.” She even got architectural plans for a guesthouse a friend of hers had built on Mount Desert Island and which she said wouldn’t be that expensive. “Like our first cottage, it’s just wood; no insulation or fireplace or cathedral ceiling or cellar or even a crawlspace. It’d be ideal for us, now that the kids are out and who’ll probably only visit us for a week or two, though of course more if they want to. One bedroom and a sleeping loft; bathroom, combined kitchen and dining and living room. And a deck with a shower on it to spray your tootsies before you come in, though we could save on that because I guess it’s for sand and we’ll never be able to afford a place near the shore.” She also got the plans for a shed in the back for one of them to write in. The other can use the bedroom, she said. “It’d be what we like: simple and compact and attractive, and it’d be fun bumping into each other ten times a day. We could even get the same kind of heating stove for it we had in the farmhouse. It worked beautifully. Or I should email Emma, and if she’s not using it in the renovated house and didn’t throw it out, get it and store it in the barn here.” She looked at the houses and land by herself. Maybe twice he went with her. “I know how you hate looking at property,” she said; “it can be a bore. But if something looks promising — and I’m serious about finding a house or land this or next summer — you’ll have to see it,” and he said “When that time comes and the price seems fair to you and you think we should buy it — well, you’ve been right on just about everything else in our lives and I’ve been too cautious, so I’ll go along with anything you say. I’ll even put that in writing.” “Don’t talk silly. And I won’t make any decision like that unless you agree to it.” “In the meantime,” he said, “we have a nice place here for five weeks, and if we like, six weeks next summer, and possibly the summer after that, another week more. And if it ever comes up for sale — they’ve given hints — it won’t come cheap. But by then we might have enough money to buy it, or we’d put up most and maybe your dad could loan us the rest.” Doctors. She got her Baltimore obstetrician through her New York obstetrician. Their Baltimore general practitioner through her Baltimore obstetrician. Their Baltimore dentist and ophthalmologist and optician and the kids’ pediatrician through their Baltimore general practitioner. So what’s he saying? That though he’d been living in Baltimore for two years before she moved down there, she got them all. “I asked Dr. Vogel who does he go to for his teeth? We’ll need a dentist here unless we want to go to my regular one in New York for a checkup and cleaning twice a year and every time a tooth hurts.” “You’re right. I haven’t had my teeth looked at and cleaned for almost two years. And it’s stupid of me, because I now have insurance for it through the school.” “How’d I get Dr. Vogel?” she said. “I asked Dr. Nancy for the G.P. she goes to. I figured, one doctor taking care of another and her husband, who’s also a doctor; he’d have to be good. We need one if we’ll be living mainly in Baltimore for at least the next few years. And you should get a complete physical. When was your last?” and he said “Probably not since I was a kid and my mother took me to Dr. Baselitch in Brooklyn once a year. But I don’t need one. I’m healthy; I’m fine. If I ever do get that sick where I need to see a doctor, I’ll go to yours.” “It’s not as easy as that. He’d never take you if you weren’t his patient. Listen, I don’t want you to argue with me on this. Vogel says he has room for you if you come in for a checkup now. So I’ve made an appointment for you on a day I know you don’t have office hours or teach. Wouldn’t you feel stupid if something terrible happened to your health that could have been averted with an annual checkup?” “Sure, but nothing bad’s going to happen to me for the next thirty years, although I promise to see a doctor before that time’s up.” “I know you’re healthy,” she said, “and you take good care of yourself. But I want to keep you that way, just as you should feel the same about me,” and he said “I do; what do you think? Okay, you’re looking out for me. I appreciate it. Maybe, for the physical after this one, we can have ours on the same day and take Rosalind with us and have lunch out after. Or you and Rosalind can come with me for this one and we’ll have lunch after. What time did you make it for?”