"Something a whole lot kinder than Hellie's bat," he says. There's regret in that, cutting through the shock and elation he's feeling at having Black Elm back. The two of them are a lot stronger now than they had been, and even if they weren't Darlington knows Alex wouldn't begrudge him this--she's the only one here who knows how much this place means to him--but he makes himself feel the guilt of it anyway.

He looks over at her when she squeezes his hand. "I've had the keys all along," he says. "They were in my coat on Halloween, so they...came with me." He smiles faintly, taking his keyring out of the pocket of his jeans. "I couldn't bring myself to take them off."

He finds the front door key, brass worn to dullness after so many years in one Arlington pocket or another, holding it almost gingerly in his fingers. "Let's go inside. I'll give you the tour. Again."