"It’s beautiful," Sirius said, as they stepped into the bright and airy cottage. It smelled like salt and sea, sweetgrass and dried flowers. Each room seemed soft and love-worn. It was all whitewashed wood, watery pastels, overstuffed sofas draped with faded quilts, gauzy white curtains fluttering in the sea breeze, chipped tea cups, and copper pots. Herb bundles tied with grosgrain ribbon and twine hung from cabinets and ceiling beams; sea-smooth stones and clear glass jars filled with cockle and periwinkle shells lined the shelves; and a fine, probably ever-present layer of sand covered the uneven wooden floors. It felt wonderfully comforting and familiar.