Three months later…

The front doors of the new Kennard-Porter home swing open, letting a flood of afternoon sunlight spill across the spacious foyer, accompanied by overlapping voices, laughter, and the occasional grunt from someone struggling with a moving box.

The house has soaring ceilings and light stone floors, giving the entrance a carefree elegance. A floating staircase with dark wooden steps and sleek glass railings curves toward the second floor. To the right, a sunken living room stretches beneath enormous windows overlooking the backyard, where a lush green lawn surrounds a sparkling swimming pool. Tall hedges provide privacy from neighboring properties.

Alice nudges the front door open with her hip, struggling slightly as she carries a medium-sized box marked Pillows and blankets into the foyer. “Okay,” she huffs, setting it down just inside the entrance, straightening while planting her hands on her hips, and taking a moment to admire her surroundings. “This is… insane. Like, I feel underdressed just standing in here.” She glances between Bette and Tina. “Also, serious question, why didn’t you two just hire movers?”

Carmen raises her hand as she also sets a box on the floor. “I would also like to know the answer to that question…”

Bette stops what she’s doing and stares at Alice before slowly lowering her gaze to the modest box sitting at her feet. “Well, first of all… thanks for all the heavy lifting you’ve done today…”

Alice keeps her hands firmly on her hips and waves off the comment. “Don’t mention it…”

Bette chuckles, adjusting her shirt cuff before nodding toward Tina. “And secondly, I wanted to hire movers,” she says smoothly. “But somebody didn’t like the idea.” She adjusts the Yale baseball cap perched backward on her head, then walks toward another stack of boxes.

Across the foyer, Tina kneels beside an open carton labeled Kitchen/Fragile. She carefully unwraps a dish from several layers of packing paper and smiles without looking up. “Where is the fun in that?” she asks with a playful shrug.

Almost on cue, the front door swings wider. Shane backs through the entrance, gripping one end of an enormous box while Dana struggles with the other. Both women move cautiously, their faces strained beneath the weight.

“Careful, careful…” Dana pants.