But there was one thing Naomi couldn't fix.
For nearly a year after Grace died, my daughter refused to swim.
Before her illness, Grace had taken Ava to the pool almost every weekend.
They played games.
Practiced floating.
And pretended they were mermaids exploring an underwater kingdom.
After Grace died, Ava said the water made her remember too much.
So we stopped going.
I didn't push.
Then one summer evening, Ava found an old photograph of herself and Grace at a resort swimming pool.
In the picture, Grace was holding her beneath a bright-blue sky.
Both were laughing.
Ava stared at it for a long time.
Then she looked toward me.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Do you think Mommy still remembers how much I liked swimming?”
My throat tightened.
“Of course.”
She studied the photograph.
Then whispered, “I think I want to try again.”
Three months later, I began looking for a new house.
Not simply somewhere large.
Not somewhere impressive.
I wanted a place where Ava could feel safe.
A home with sunlight, room for family, and a swimming pool where she could gradually learn to enjoy the water again.
That's how I found the property outside Scottsdale.
The house stood on a privately owned parcel adjoining a gated development called Canyon Crest Estates.
It had cream-colored stucco walls, a terracotta roof, broad windows overlooking the mountains, and a beautiful courtyard leading toward the pool.
The swimming pool wasn't enormous.
But it was perfect for us.
There were wide, shallow steps.
A comfortable ledge where Ava could sit.
And enough space for her to practice swimming with me beside her.
The first time we visited, she walked straight toward the water.
She stood at the edge for almost a minute.
Then looked back at me.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Can we live here?”
I smiled.
“Maybe.”
She turned toward the pool.
“I think Mommy would like it.”
That settled the matter for me.
Of course, buying a house involved more than a child's approval.
There were inspections.
Financing documents.
Title records.
Insurance requirements.
And a great deal of paperwork.
Because I'd spent years working with commercial construction projects, I was unusually careful about property boundaries and development restrictions.