The wavy, multi-colored panes warped the world outside into a blur of shifting shapes. Ocean tugged at the small metal latch at the side of the window. It didn’t budge.
“Some air, please?” she muttered.
She gave it a harder yank. Still nothing.
“Probably hasn’t been opened in a hundred years,” she added under her breath. “Since Mom was a kid, at least.”
With a sigh, she let go and turned toward the window at the far end of the attic. She’d barely taken a few steps when a sharp, high-pitched scrape behind her cut through the stillness.
She froze. Heart thudding.
Then she spun around.
The window she’d just struggled with was now open. Wide open.
The attic suddenly felt colder.
Every hair on her arms and neck stood on end. Her heart pounded. She stared at the open window, frozen. The attic felt suddenly still. Too still.
She didn’t move. Just listened.
And waited.
A cool breeze drifted in, brushing her skin with the faint scent of flowers. Sort of like the lavender oil Ivy’s mom used. It was sweet, but right now not the least bit comforting. That window didn’t just open on its own. No chance.
She took a cautious step backward. Every creak of the old wooden floorboards now sounded unnaturally loud in the thick, unnatural silence.
A minute ago, she’d been ready to explore. Now…not so much.
“Okay,” she said aloud, trying to steady her nerves. “I’m from California. Born and raised. Not used to…creaky haunted houses.”
Great. Now she was talking to empty rooms.
Then—another noise. A sudden bang behind her.
Ocean spun around.
The second window, the one she hadn’t even touched, was now wide open.
A gust barreled in, scattering dust and whipping old papers into a frenzy.
“Fu-u-u-uck!”
She didn’t wait. In the next breath, she was scrambling down the ladder like that attic was on fire.
Chapter Seven
Skye
* * *
Demonstrating typical New England frugality, Harbor View had renovated the old elementary school into the ‘new’ town hall a decade after I moved away.
While I waited for Arthur’s meeting to finish up, I wandered around the lobby. The glass-fronted case that formerly held school awards and trophies now displayed before-and-after pictures of the building’s transformation.
The banner across the top read, ‘Ingenuity and Resourcefulness.’ Below it was an array of photos showing the construction crews stripping a century of wax from the original oak floors and refinishing them until they gleamed. In one picture, desks were being unscrewed from the floors of classrooms, which were now offices and meeting rooms. In another, ancient iron radiators were being hauled out to waiting trucks for recycling. The principal’s office, with minimal alterations, was now occupied by the First Selectman and the Town Administrator.
It was a true testament to Harbor View’s pragmatic spirit and deep-rooted sense of community. Every piece of history had been preserved, so long as the cost made sense. Every penny had been scrutinized during the renovation.
