The House.

"So this is where you grew up?" Neal looked around the house, and it didn't seem ominous enough to merit capital letters. The exterior was colonial in style, and he would guess that had been Robert's choice. He'd been the type to go for an old-money look. It was much larger than the townhouse, certainly more space than the newlywed Robert and Noelle could have afforded on his salary as a cop and hers as a teaching assistant when she was earning her PhD. Robert's parents had made a generous down payment as a wedding gift to the couple. The interior was dark, more so than he would have expected given Noelle's tastes. If he had to guess, he'd say Robert picked the carpet and paint colors, and some of the lighter, more playful accessories were Noelle's choices.

"Yeah." Henry stood in the living room, studying the space intently. "It seemed massive then. I'm still remembering how it felt when I was a little kid. Does it jog any memories for you?"

Neal shook his head. He knew he'd been here when he was three years old, but nothing looked familiar.

Noelle wandered through rooms, occasionally running her hand fondly over a piece of furniture. Then she stopped in one room and sighed.

"Is this where you kept it?" Joe asked.

She nodded. "Robert might have moved it, or even gotten rid of it. But I'd hoped it would still be here."

"What are you looking for?" Neal asked.

"A dark oak roll-top desk. I bought it when I finished my degree, and it was the one piece of furniture that was all mine. When I moved out I knew it was too big to fit into the townhouse, and I was in a hurry to leave, anyway. But I thought maybe now I could get it back."

"I'll check the other rooms," Neal volunteered. He wouldn't mind escaping the emotions spilling over from Noelle and Henry. He simply didn't get being so wrought over a house. It was just a building. He strode through the rooms, starting with the bedrooms and ending in the kitchen. There were no roll-top desks to be seen, but he did stop short when he saw the kitchen cabinets. He opened a door next to the oven and pulled out a pot. He turned it over and saw the Revere Ware stamp on the copper bottom. This...

"I remember this," said Henry, who'd followed when Neal didn't return from the kitchen. "On your last visit here, we pulled these out of the cabinet."

"You pulled them out," Neal corrected.

"Every last one I owned," Noelle added with a smile as she entered the room.

"And I showed you how to play them." Henry pulled another pot out of the cabinet, and set it upside down on the floor. "These made great drums." He started beating a rhythm on the two pots.

"Henry, really," his mother protested. "You're not five anymore."

"Yeah, play them on the countertop like an adult," Neal suggested.

Noelle huffed in an attempt not to laugh. "Enough. Put them away. I brought you here to talk about something."

Henry complied, but with a put upon expression that Neal suspected was a ruse to keep Noelle laughing. She'd seemed too sad once they'd entered this house. Both of them were sad, and they were making Joe glum, too.

Once they were seated in the living room, Noelle looked at them and said, "I have a confession to make. A couple of confessions, in fact. The first is that the townhouse simply isn't right for Joe and me. We need more space. I'd thought the answer was to remodel this house, to give us each a home office and still have space for guests. I talked to Joe about the layout, and how I thought we might update this space to seem more open, but — and here comes the second confession — I could never make myself come here with him to review the plans." She sighed. "I thought that by coming here today, I'd be able to stare down the ghosts of my first marriage and make peace with this place, but I'm sorry, Joe." She looked at her husband. "I know a remodel would do wonders, but I don't want to live here again."

"I suspected as much," Joe said. "When a client actively avoids a space, that's never a good sign. I still want to do some updating here. I think it would sell quickly if we made a few of the changes we discussed."

Noelle nodded. "I'd like that. It can be a good home for another family."

"What about," Henry gestured broadly, "all of Dad's stuff?"

"A massive garage sale is in my future, I suspect. Some of it I may give away. Was there anything you wanted to keep, sweetheart?"

Neal spoke up. "Looks like Robert didn't change much after the divorce. One of the bedrooms definitely belongs to a teenager."

"He believed we'd come back one day," Henry said. "He always thought Mom would regret the divorce. I can't think of anything I'd want that I didn't take with me, but I'll look around." He stood up and took a couple of steps but then stopped. "I remember the desk Mom described. Did you find it?"

Neal shook his head. "No sign of it."

"Well, one sign," Joe corrected. "You can see where it used to be. The cleaning crew comes in once a month and they vacuum the whole house, but the carpet is still matted down from a heavy desk sitting on it. It hasn't been gone very long."

"That's odd," said Noelle. "Other than the maid service, no one's been here but Robert's parents. I said they could take anything they wanted, but they each already have desks. Why would they want it? And if they wanted to give it away, why not take other furniture, too?"

"Maybe it had been damaged?" Neal guessed.

"Not that desk," Henry insisted. "It survived my childhood. I crawled up and over every table and desk in this house, and I think it's the only one that didn't have to be replaced. That thing was solid."

Noelle smiled. "It had lots of little drawers and slots. I loved them, and I understood Henry's fascination with them. I always made sure to close the top and lock it when I was done working, so he wouldn't make a mess."

Henry grinned. "When I got older, I learned how to pick the lock. The key was more an ornament than a security device. Man, was I disappointed the drawers only held paperclips and office supplies."

"I hate to imagine what you thought I stored in there. Truth be told, both the desk and I were showing wear by the time I left. I went blonde, and if I'd taken the desk with me, I'd have refinished..." she trailed off. "My in-laws know how much I loved that desk. I even mentioned it before they went through the house last fall. What if they decided to refinish it?"

"As a birthday gift?" Neal suggested. "Did they know that you and Joe want to move into a bigger space?"

"Yes! I told Julia that I hoped we'd be out of the townhouse by the end of the year, and that's near my birthday."

"You want me to ask Pops?" Henry offered.

"No," Noelle said. "Don't bother him. If it's meant to be a birthday surprise, I don't want to spoil their fun. If they did something else with it, it's their right. I told them to take anything they wanted."

Henry agreed and then dashed off to his old bedroom to see if there was anything he wanted to claim.

"You hate the house?" Neal asked.

"No, not hate. It makes me... sad. Yes, I think that's right. I have some lovely memories here, including you and Henry using my pots as drums — but don't tell him I said that! But there was so much potential that went wasted, so much disappointment that led to the divorce. Too many memories of Robert. It wouldn't be fair to Joe to move in here."

"Thanks," said Joe. "I wasn't looking forward to living here, not when it became clear it was still haunted by your divorce."

"What about the townhouse? I mean, will you be sad to leave?"

Noelle shook her head at Neal. "I'll take happy memories with me, but those are my past. Moving forward in my life with Joe is even happier." She clasped her husband's hand. "What about you, Joe? Any regrets about leaving the house where you raised your girls?"

"I like the way you put it. It was a good house and I enjoyed living there, but I took the memories with me when I left." Joe put an arm around Noelle. "And I get how you're feeling about the desk. It was easier saying goodbye to my home in Albany because I could bring some of my stuff with me. There's a comfort in that. You make a place a home by making it your own." He chuckled. "But the townhouse is bursting at the seams with both of us nesting there. I'm glad you're ready to move on."

Before Noelle could reply, Henry returned with a lumpy pillowcase slung over one shoulder and a newspaper in his other arm.

"Santa Claus?" Neal asked.

"Found a couple of things I want to take. A book, a toy, and an awesome pair of sneakers I somehow missed packing when we left. And can you believe the newspaper I was reading the day we left was still in my room? Time for that to go in the recycle bin. Are we ready to go?"

"Yes," Noelle said. "I've spent all the time I need."

They followed Henry out through the garage, where he opened the recycle bin and tossed the newspaper at it. Most of the newspaper went in, but several flyers fluttered down to the floor. Neal and Noelle both leaned down to pick them up. Neal grabbed the grocery flyers, and let Noelle take the one for an open house.

Her eyes locked on the picture of the house. "How beautiful," she said.

"Hmm?" Joe moved to look over her shoulder. "I see some Frank Lloyd Wright influence. Arts and Crafts style, also known as Craftsman."

"My favorite," she said. "Colonial was Robert's preference."

Henry sidled over to take a look. "That neighborhood's near the university, isn't it?"

"That's right. Several professors live there."

"Maybe that's where you should look for your next place," Henry suggested.

"Oh, I'd love to, but it's rare to find a home for sale there. People tend to settle into that area for the long haul, and when you do see a for sale sign, it's usually turned into a sold sign a few days later."

"We can look for this style in another neighborhood," Joe said.

Noelle tossed the flier into the bin. "We'll find someplace perfect for us. We just have to be patient."

Noelle's townhouse.

As everyone traipsed into the townhouse, Henry stopped in the entryway to pull a key from the key hanger. "You still have my old apartment key."

"Hey, you're blocking the path," Neal complained. It was true, and he thought Henry was rushing things.

Henry carried the key with him and plopped down on the sofa. Noelle asked if they wanted anything to drink, and Joe carried cans of cola for himself and Henry, while Noelle brought water for herself and Neal.

To keep the topic away from the key a while longer, Neal said, "Joe, your parents moved to their current house when you were what, fourteen?"

"Early teens," Joe confirmed. "Let me guess. You want to know if I missed my old home?" He took a swig of the cola. "What I missed most about the old place was the neighborhood. I had a lot of good friends there, and I wasn't thrilled about leaving them behind, even if I was still going to see them at school. One thing that helped was my folks let me customize my room. I picked the paint color, and Mom dragged me along to shop for bedding. And I had my stuff, you know, posters of my favorite actors and singers, books and whatnot."

Neal laughed. "You just described what I saw in Henry's old room. Weird paint color, covered by posters and books and whatnot. You've got more in common than I thought."

Henry reached forward to give Joe a fist bump. Then he leaned back and said, "And your room in your teens was any different?"

He hadn't thought about his childhood bedroom in ages, but Neal brought back the image in his mind. "My posters mostly featured famous art, and Mom wasn't..." He looked askance at Noelle. He was here for Mother's Day with her, but he'd spent a lifetime thinking of Meredith as his mother.

"Oh, sweetie." Noelle put an arm around him for a quick hug. "Meredith will always be your mother. Don't be afraid to call her your mom. You know lots of kids out there have more than one mom. Just think, Henry has a second father now with Joe."

Neal cleared his throat. "Yeah. Thanks." He took a sip of his water. "Anyway, all the walls in the house were beige for as long as I remember."

"No wonder you turned to art," Henry said. "You had to get some color in your life."

"Good point," Neal said with a chuckle. Now he deemed it safe to turn the conversation in the direction his cousin wanted. "I can't say your apartment here in Baltimore screamed Henry."

"True enough. I went to a furniture store and said I wanted modern stuff that went together. Over time I added things that were more personal, but you're right. What I actually brought to New York was only what fit in my car. The rest I sold and barely remember."

"Are you taking the same approach this time?" Noelle asked.

"Nah. I'm making a home this time. It takes forever to pick out the perfect pieces, but it all feels more mine, for lack of a better word. And I invested in a large painting by an up-and-coming new artist."

Neal was almost sure he didn't blush. "He insisted on being the first person to purchase a Neal Caffrey original."

Noelle had attended the event at Columbia where the graduate art students displayed their work, and she correctly guessed which painting had caught Henry's eye.

"Speaking of catching my eye..." Henry tossed the key in the air and caught it. "Why did you keep the key to a place where I no longer live?"

"We're not the only ones thinking of moving," Noelle explained. "Your Winslow grandparents decided that their house is too big for them now that they're getting older. They want something smaller, and all on one level."

"But a one-bedroom apartment?" Henry protested. "They'd never make that adjustment."

"No," Joe agreed, "but a two-bedroom condo with a den and expansive kitchen might do the trick."

"The building's going condo, right," Henry said. "That announcement was one of the things that spurred me on to make the move to New York."

"Knowing that your unit was vacant, Graham and Julia bought it and the one next to it. They asked me to consult with a construction crew first," Joe explained. "I drew up two options for what the combined apartments could look like, and they decided to go with the second option. Construction begins next month."

"I thought you did mostly commercial architecture," Neal commented.

"My first love is old civic buildings, especially museums, and I've done a lot with art galleries. I'm seeing more combined spaces, where artists can live and work. When Graham and Julia asked me to recommend an architect for their condo, I thought it would be good practice for me to work on a residence again, so I volunteered to do the initial renderings and then got them in touch with a firm who could work out all the details for them."

"That's why you have the key?" Henry asked.

"Right. I volunteered to check in on the project occasionally. I'm sure Graham will, too, but I think Julia wanted a professional looking in."

Neal decided it was time to lead Noelle to the next clue. "So it's just sitting empty now?"

"Mostly," Joe said. "They mentioned they were going to keep some things there until construction started."

"Why would they move something there, only to move it out again when the construction begins?" Noelle wondered. "Unless... Unless it was something they didn't want visitors to their house to see."

"You think you've solved the desk mystery?" Joe asked.

"Possibly. If they wanted to refinish it for a December birthday, there isn't any rush. They might have wanted to store it someplace out of sight until an expert had the time to start the project."

"What do you say we check it out tomorrow?" Henry suggested. "After breakfast, of course."