“Just look at those window flower boxes, and that picket fence around the yard. It’s so charming.” Melanie hinted, “I’d love to visit, especially in summertime.”
“I’d say you have a standing invitation, but I plan to sell it before next summer.”
“Sell it?” Melanie squawked. “Why would you want to sell it?”
“Do you really need to ask me that?” Caitlin retorted. “Nonprofit consulting may be rewarding in a lot of other ways, but it’s hardly what anyone would call a lucrative career.”
“That’s true. It’s more like we get stipends than salaries,” said Melanie, rolling her eyes. “But are you sure you want to giveup the house entirely? Couldn’t you like, keep renting it out? That way, you could still vacation in Hope Haven whenever you wanted. I’m sure you have a lot of memories from the summers you spent there, right?”
It was primarilybecauseof her memories that Caitlin had decided to sell the cottage, but she didn’t want to talk about that with Melanie—or with anyone else, for that matter. “Dune Island’s a gorgeous place, but I don’t want the hassle associated with owning a rental. Besides, I need a new transmission for my car a lot more than I need a vacation home.”And the quicker I sell the property, the quicker I’ll be able to put all thoughts of Dune Island out of my mind again.
“Pfft, forget the transmission. With the money you’ll get from selling the place in Hope Haven, you’ll be able to buy a brand newcar—or two.” Melanie rubbed her hands together, feigning greed. “You’re putting the house on the market right away?”
“Notrightaway.” Caitlin inadvertently mumbled aloud, “First I need to remodel the windmill.”
“Why?”
Caitlin wished she hadn’t let it slip that Lydia was requiring her to remodel the windmill, but it was too late to take back her words now. “Because even though the downstairs space in there was used as a rental office, the windmill doesn’t have finished rooms or anything. It has exposed beams and the wood is gorgeous, but you can’t walk across the floor without shoes or you’ll get splinters in your feet,” she said. “The loft of the windmill is very bare bones, too, kind of like an attic, but my aunt used to talk about converting it into her own private sitting room. It’s small—just one room on each floor—but I guess she thought it could be homey. She wanted to install a picture window upstairs so she could have a full-fledged ocean view while she knitted or read or just took some time alone for herself...”
Caitlin paused, feeling uncomfortable. She’d already shared more about her inheritance than she’d intended. “Anyway, a stipulation in the Trust is that before I sell the place—and even if I keep it—I have to go there to oversee the remodeling of the windmill.”
“Aww, your aunt’s sitting room must have meant an awful lot to her if she wanted you to carry out her wishes posthumously,” remarked Melanie.
“Mm,” Caitlin murmured noncommittally. She swallowed the last of her water and scooted to the edge of her seat, about to stand up, but Melanie prattled on.
“And I suppose if you have a quirky feature like a windmill next to your house, it should serve a practical purpose, otherwise it’s just wasted space.” She pressed, “So when are you going to get started on the remodel?”
“I don’t know.” Caitlin hadn’t been to Dune Island since she was seventeen, and she loathed the idea of returning. “Probably in the spring, if I have enough time in between campaigns.”
“You just finished a campaign before you left for the funeral,” Melanie pointed out. “It’s unlikely the agency will assign you another one right away, since most of our clients don’t kick off their annual appeals in the fourth quarter. So you could go to Dune Islandnow, if you wanted.”
Caitlin drew back in surprise. Was Melanie hinting she wanted her to leave sooner than they’d agreed? She’d repeatedly said how much she’d loved having Caitlin staying with her, but maybe she hadn’t been as sincere as she’d seemed. Or else when Caitlin was in New Hampshire for a few days, Melanie had realized how much she preferred living alone to having a roommate.
Caitlin could hardly blame her for that, but there was still no way she was going to travel to Dune Island already. She’d barely begun to wrap her head around the fact that she’d inheritedLydia’s summer place; she was going to need at least five or six months to prepare herself to visit it again.
“I doubt I could find a carpenter at such short notice,” she countered. But that was illogical, since most carpenters were busier in the spring and summer than in the colder months. So she embellished, “Besides, converting the windmill was my aunt’s dream, so I don’t want to rush through the remodel. Waiting until spring will give me plenty of time to come up with a design I know she would have loved.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” agreed Melanie. “It’ll give you time to take out a loan to fund the remodel, too.”
As a matter of fact, her aunt had left her money specifically designated for the remodel, but Caitlin didn’t mention it. “Plus, the weather will be warmer in the spring, which is better for?—”
She was interrupted mid-sentence by a distinct clinking sound coming from the kitchen. Melanie hopped up from the sofa. “Uh-oh. Sounds like the mountain of dishes I left stacked in the sink is shifting. I’d better go clean up in there before everything slides to the floor.”
“You want a hand?” offered Caitlin, also rising to her feet.
“Nope, I’ve got it. You should go to bed. You look sapped.” Melanie plucked the water glass from Caitlin’s hand. “Sleep well.”
Once again, Caitlin got the feeling Melanie didn’t exactly want her around, so she obligingly said, “Thanks, you, too.”
Melanie scurried into the kitchen, and as Caitlin headed toward the spare room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror. Melanie was right: she looked frazzled. Her blue-gray eyes, which usually appeared large and limpid, seemed clouded and squinty; the layers of her tawny, face-framing mane had gone lifeless and flat; and weariness had wilted her pert mouth into an unintentional frown.
Ireallyneed a shower and eight straight hours of sleep.She pressed Jonathan’s name on her phone display.I’ll give him a quick call now, so he won’t try to reach me after I’ve collapsed for the night.
At the same moment Caitlin heard Jonathan’s ringtone in the earpiece of her phone, a muffled ringtone also sounded in the living room. Turning, she realized it was coming from the sofa. She backtracked, slid her hand into the space between the cushions and pulled out Jonathan’s phone.
What’s this doing here? He used it to call me yesterday evening at six, so he must have left it behind sometime after then. But why would he come here when I’m away?There was only one explanation. She glanced at the overhead light in the foyer; it was shining brightly. The bulb had burned out last week, but neither she nor Melanie had been able to unscrew the fixture to replace it.He must have dropped by to change the bulb for us, just like he promised he would.
Pleased that for once she was dating a man who was true to his word, Caitlin thought,No wonder he hasn’t called me yet—he couldn’t. He’s probably going out of his mind looking for his phone.
