When they finished the library window—the one that had always been the worst offender—Mark invited her to stand in front of it.

He showed her the difference. It wasn't just about double-pane glass; it was about the balance of the frame, the tilt-in mechanisms that felt like closing a car door—solid, substantial. They were custom-made to fit the quirky, non-standard dimensions of her Victorian home.

"Tell me about the house," he said. "Not the measurements. The house."