And then me, standing beside the fireplace, talking about Holt Ridge and about what I had wanted the house to be.
The room around me was completely still.
I heard my own voice say: I wanted a home where nobody had to earn the right to belong.
Terrence, sitting on the floor near the television, put his hand over his mouth.
I looked at Megan. She was already looking at me. She had been watching me instead of the screen.
When the segment ended there was a moment of complete silence and then the room started to applaud. Not politely. The real way. Pete was on his feet.
His daughter, who was twelve and had been watching from the doorway, was clapping with the complete unselfconscious energy of someone who does not yet know that applause needs to be calibrated.
My phone began moving.
I checked it briefly. Former clients. Developers in the region. People I had gone to school with who had not been in touch for years. A contractor in Charlotte who had seen the segment. Messages arriving faster than I could read them.
