The beach is cool and gray today, tides lapping idly at the sand. When they get about midway through, she stops, dropping her coat on an abandoned, rickety picnic table--it probably won't be a long stop, but she can't quite resist looking at the ocean in fall.

"You should," she says, wondering what his tastes in housing are like. "Everybody needs their own space...besides, I've heard things about the Inn. I'll help you look, if you want."