“I’ll unpack my clothes first,” Chloe said, already tearing the plastic off her dresser.

Dylan helped me carry the remaining boxes from my car trunk.

We worked together as the light faded from gold to deep purple.

The air began to cool, carrying the scent of wild sage and damp earth.

I turned on the kitchen lights, and the warm glow spilled out onto the dark deck.

I boiled water on the gas stove and prepared a simple dinner of pasta and sauce.

We didn’t have the dining table set up yet, so we sat together on the living room floor.

We used a large cardboard box as our table, laughing when Dylan accidentally dropped his fork.

“Is Dad going to try to come here?” Chloe asked, looking up from her plate.

“No,” I said, looking her in the eyes. “This land belongs to us. He has no right to be here.”

Dylan nodded slowly, looking relieved.

“It’s quiet here,” he said. “No traffic, no neighbors staring at us.”

“Just the hills,” I said.

After dinner, the children went to their rooms to finish unpacking their clothes.