This way, if you keep the cottage, you’ll get to enjoy the living space we envisioned—and if you sell it, the remodel will drastically increase the appeal and value of the property. In either case, I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you’ll benefit as much as possible from your inheritance. You deserve it.
With love from,
Aunt Lydia
Beneath the signature line was a brief postscript, which said, “Don’t forget to stop and watch the sunset!”
Upon reading her aunt’s familiar motto, Caitlin didn’t know whether to smile or to weep. She lifted her head and absently stared out the window at the maple tree, her mind and heart whirling with conflicting thoughts and feelings.
On one hand, she was deeply moved to be reminded that their relationship had meant as much to Lydia as it had to Caitlin. She also appreciated her aunt explaining why she’d required her to return to the island to remodel the windmill. But on the other hand, the letter made her feel more guilty than ever.
The cottage was Aunt Lydia’s most precious earthly possession, and remodeling the loft was her favorite dream, Caitlin lamented, rubbing her eyes.She obviously wanted to give me the best of her best, but she was wrong—Idon’tdeserve it.
Suddenly too exhausted to make the bed in the other room and too overwhelmed to deal with her emotions, Caitlin folded the letter and slid it into the envelope. Then she reclined sideways on the sofa and went to sleep.
The following morning, Caitlin made a trip to the market to stock up on groceries and household items before dropping off the car at a satellite rental agency near the ferry dock. Then she caught a bus from Port Newcomb to Main Street in Lucinda’s Hamlet.
The quickest way to get from the bus stop to the cottage was to head west a few blocks to the boardwalk and then amble a mile down the beach to the south. But walking along that sandy stretch literally would have been like strolling down memory lane—something Caitlin intended to avoid at all costs. So instead, she followed the sidewalks, weaving her way through the residential neighborhoods. It took over an hour, but she didn’t mind: she enjoyed the exercise and the temperate weather.
The trees had barely begun to turn color; only a few pops of crimson, orange, or yellow leaves hinted at the changing season. It had been so long since she’d lived in New England that until she saw it again, Caitlin hadn’t realized how much she’d enjoyed the contrast of the vibrant colors with the ubiquitous, gray-shingled Cape-style houses.
When she returned to Windswept Way, she unpacked the rest of her belongings, and then she vacuumed, dusted, andmopped the floors. The crew from the property management company had already given the cottage an extra-thorough cleaning at the end of the season, but scouring it again gave Caitlin an excuse to procrastinate going into the windmill.
For the next two days, she lingered in bed until 9:00 or even 10:00 a.m. Then, she’d rise, eat a leisurely breakfast, take a shower, and stroll to the market in town. She already had plenty of food in her cupboards, so she didn’t even enter the store once she’d reached it, but having a destination gave her a sense of purpose.
When she came back, she’d research local carpenters online. Caitlin supposed she could have called Lydia’s nephews and asked them who’d renovated the interior of the cottage, but it seemed like a touchy subject since the men had expressed resentment about Caitlin inheriting Lydia’s summer place. So, she did her best to find a highly rated carpenter who was available on short notice for the project. She made at least half a dozen attempts to call her top choices, but no one answered directly, and she had to leave voice mail messages. Which in a way was kind of a relief, because she still wasn’t ready to hear comments about what had happened at the cottage twenty years ago.
In the afternoons, she’d create photo galleries of her favorite designs and building materials. She also drew sketches and compiled a spreadsheet of comparative costs. Finally, she’d take a nap on the sofa in the sunroom and when she woke, she’d prepare and eat supper and then resume her research until bedtime.
By the third day of this regimen, Caitlin had caught up on her rest and she began to feel as if the walls were closing in.I haven’t spoken to anyone since I dropped the car off at the ferry dock, she realized.No wonder I’ve got cabin fever.
Deep down, she recognized she was also on edge because she still hadn’t gone inside the windmill. But she decided to put it off a little longer and drop in to see Marion instead.Maybe she’ll be able to recommend a good carpenter, she thought as she headed toward the saltbox-style house at the end of the cul-de-sac.
Even before she raised her hand to ring the doorbell, Caitlin could hear Pepper barking. The door swung open and Marion kept the small, energetic dog from exiting by holding her foot in front of him.
“Pepper, shush. That’s not how we greet our visitors,” she scolded. “Hello, Caitlin. It’s nice to see you again. Please come in if you can get past this little rascal.”
Caitlin said hello to Marion and affectionately patted Pepper’s head before following her host into the living room.
“You came at the perfect time. I was just about to have tea. Would you like a cup?”
“I’d love one, thanks,” said Caitlin. While Marion and Pepper padded into the kitchen, Caitlin studied the photos of Marion’s family on the mantlepiece. She vaguely recognized Darren, her only child, who was about eight years older than Caitlin. When Marion returned, she remarked, “These two with Darren must be his children?”
“Yes, that’s Jordan and Natalie,” said Marion, beaming. “It’s an old photo—they’re almost pre-teens now. And the woman standing beside him is Jeannine, his wife. She was pregnant in that photo with their third child, Finn, who’s already seven years old.”
“Three grandchildren, that’s wonderful. Do you get to see them often?”
“Not as often as I’d like. They live in Pennsylvania, so it’s a long trip—you know how that is.” Marion’s face brightened as she added, “But they’re coming to visit at Thanksgiving.”
Caitlin asked the older woman more questions about her family, and Marion seemed glad to talk about them as they sipped their tea and nibbled lemon pound cake, with Pepper taking up residence on the softa cushion between them. Even though Caitlin hadn’t personally known Marion very well, she remembered how fond Lydia had been of her. Caitlin felt as if she were visiting an old family friend, and their conversation flowed easily.
After swallowing the last bite of her treat, Marion said, “Listen to me, rambling on about me and my own all this time. Now it’s your turn. If I remember correctly, the last time I spoke to Lydia’s nephews when they came to update the cottage, they said you and your family had moved to Arizona. Do you all still live there?”
“Close. I live in Santa Fe, New Mexico,” Caitlin clarified. “My parents have retired to Florida, but my brother, Charlie, lives about an hour north of me. He’s married, and has three children, two boys and a girl.”
“Ah, so you’re a doting auntie,” said Marion with a smile. “But no children of your own?”
Caitlin set her empty teacup in its saucer. “No, no children of my own, and I’m not married,” she stated neutrally, so Marion wouldn’t think being single and childless saddened her, even if it did a little.
