The women exited through the kitchen door and came around to the front of the house to see Shane retracting the ladder from the roof. Charlie helped him lay it on the ground and then they strode over to the women.
“Perfect timing,” Charlie said. “We just finished.”
“What do you think, do we have enough lights?” Caitlin fretted. “Because there’s still plenty of time to buy more before the Shine-Your-Light contest starts.”
“Nottoocompetitive, are you?” Charlie teased his sister.
“I don’t care about winning,” she protested. “I’m just excited about participating and I want to give our visitors a spectacular experience—which means we need tons of lights.”
Shane wrapped his arm around Caitlin’s waist. “Sweetheart, if I add even one more bulb, the entire windmill’s going to tip over,” he teased. “Trust me, our visitors will be thrilled—especially when they taste your windmill cookies.”
Before she could reply, the children came tearing across the lawn toward the adults. “Can you plug the lights in, Uncle Shane?” asked Logan.
“Not yet,” his mother interjected. “It’s not dark enough. Besides, we need to be polite and wait until Mrs. Graham and her family drop by for dessert, so they can see the lights when we turn them on, too. Her grandchildren were the ones who gave Auntie Caitlin the idea of entering the contest in the first place.”
“Couldn’t we have a little peek?” Archie pleaded. “Just for a minute?”
“Sorry, but your mom’s right—we need to wait,” said Caitlin. “I tell you what though, once we plug them in, we can leave the lights on all night. So we’ll be able to see them on the windmill’s arms right outside our window.”
“Does this mean you’re sleeping in the loft with the kids again?” Shane quietly groaned into his wife’s ear. “I miss you downstairs inourbed.”
“I miss you, too,” Caitlin whispered longingly, even though they’d only been apart for a couple nights.
Suzanne abruptly motioned to her husband and children. “C’mon, you guys, let’s go for a walk.”
“I’ll race you,” Logan challenged his siblings. “First one to the staircase wins.”
The boys took off toward the woods, but Maya announced, “I don’t want to race. I’m going to walk with Auntie Caitlin and Uncle Shane.”
“The newlyweds might want to walk by themselves, honey,” her mother hinted.
“That’s okay. She’s welcome to stay with us,” Caitlin insisted.
So the little girl took her aunt’s and uncle’s hands and skipped between them, chatting nonstop as they made their way to the beach. By the time they reached the bottom step of the staircase, Charlie, Suzanne, and the boys had already wandered onto the damp tidal flats and were heading toward the southwest horizon. But Maya wanted to stay on the soft, dry sand, so instead of following the others, the trio skirted the dunes, their heads ducked against the brisk, onshore breeze.
When they neared the “end” of the beach, Maya exclaimed, “Look, a bench! We can sit there to watch the sunset.”
“Don’t you want to watch it with everyone else, out near the water?” her aunt suggested.
“Nah, it’s too cold.” She dropped their hands and scampered across the sand.
Even though Caitlin wasn’t concerned that she herself would become emotional about seeing the plaque, she was worried that her inquisitive niece might ask questions about Nicole’s photo. Last spring, Caitlin had confided in her brother and sister-in-lawabout the accident, and how deeply it had affected her, but she hardly thought it was an appropriate subject to discuss with a child Maya’s age.
Caitlin pivoted toward the flats, hoping to signal Charlie or Suzanne to come and facilitate the discussion if necessary, but their backs were turned as they crouched near the sand, examining something. So she glanced at Shane and shrugged, and they trudged up the slight incline to the bench.
Sure enough, the child, who could barely read, was studying the photo when Caitlin and Shane reached her. “Who’s this?” Maya asked, patting the image with her mittened hand.
“Her name is Nicole.”
“Is she a princess?”
“She looks like one in that costume, doesn’t she?” Caitlin replied, stalling a little as she tried to come up with a lighthearted, yet honest answer that would satisfy Maya’s curiosity. “But no, she’s not a princess. She was wearing that pretty white dress because when she was young, she was a ballerina. She liked to dance, but shelovedto act in plays.”
“And now she’s famous?”
“Noo… not exactly.” Caitlin felt Shane place his hand on her back, a gesture of support, although he remained silent.
“Then how come her picture is on the beach?”
