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“All right. Then after he’s tucked in. We have kind of a tradition here. Every night after dinner, Logan and I sit on the back porch and listen to crickets. Not because they sound good, but because there isn’t much else to do up here at night.”
“Oh, but it’s so beautiful. Tranquil,” Colette replied.
“And that’s the point. It’s beautiful, tranquil, and there is absolutely nothing else you can do in the evening except read a book or watch TV. But you can do that anywhere. It’s not often you can simply sit and listen to crickets.” Clive poured himself a glass of port. “Would you like one?”
“Yes, thank you.” Colette felt the weight of the world lifting off her shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”
She motioned for Max. “Say good night to Mr. Dunbar and Logan.”
Max put out his hand. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Dunbar. Thank you for inviting us.” He turned to Logan. “And it is very nice to meet you, too.” Such a grown-up. Colette put her hands on his shoulders. She was proud of her little man.
When they went into Max’s guest room, he sat on the bed and eyed the space. It wasn’t a typical cabin. The walls were paneled in wood, as expected, but with a more updated spin. The planks were three inches high and four feet long, alternating colors from light gray to tans, and charcoal. The planks started at the floor and ran halfway up the wall. The effect was a rustic look without the heaviness. The rest of the walls were painted white, with light gray wood beams spanning the ceiling. Max lay down with his hands folded behind his head. “Mom?”
“Yes, Max.”
“I think this is the most beautiful room I have ever slept in. In my whole life!” He sat up and bounced a little on the bed.
“I know. It’s a beautiful place.” Colette pulled out a pair of pajamas for him, his little dopp kit, and a pair of sleeper socks, the kind that had the antiskid bottoms. Sometimes they’d get stuck on the sheets, but it was better to have something on your feet when you got out of bed, and kids and slippers don’t usually find each other. The slippers end up having a lonely life under the bed, until a stray sock or another slipper gets abandoned.
“Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think we could stay here a while longer?” Max rolled over and propped himself on his elbows.
“Oh, sweetie, I think Mr. Dunbar has been a most gracious host. I do not want to overstay our welcome. And I will have to get back to work, and you have to go to school.”
He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I know.” Then he jumped up. “But do you think we could come back and visit?”
Colette appreciated her son’s enthusiasm and didn’t want to ruin his mood. But she had no expectations of a future invitation. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” And she thought to herself, itwouldbe nice.Logan seems like a very nice man.She laughed a little to herself. A girl can dream.
Colette pulled down the neutral-toned comforter. “It’s like a marshmallow.” Max brushed the fine bedcovering.
“OK. Say your prayers.”
Instead of the traditional kneeling on the floor, Max’s routine was to get into bed first, sit up, say his prayers, then fall backward onto his pillow and get a kiss on his forehead from his mother.
Tonight was no different. Except the people, the place, and pretty much everything else.
“Good night, Max,” Colette whispered. There was an en suite bathroom between their bedrooms. Max was comfortable knowing his mother was only a few feet away. She left the door ajar, creating a stream of light on the floor in case he woke up during the night.
Colette went back downstairs and through the great room that served as the living room. To one side was the large dining area. A ten-foot-wide granite-topped island cabinet separated the kitchen from the dining area. A stone fireplace was on the opposite wall. Vaulted ceilings and skylights brought the wonderful natural surroundings inside. It was a grand open-floor plan. She stopped for a moment. Everything had moved so quickly since she arrived that she hadn’t stopped to take it all in. It was no wonder Mr. Randolph had enjoyed his time in this place. She thought about him again. And then her thoughts turned to Arthur and Rowena Millstone. They had treated her terribly. Just as they treated everyone else, for that matter.
She looked beyond the porch as she walked to the gigantic sliding doors that led to the equally gigantic screened porch. From the porch, you stepped outside to a large wood deck that stepped down to several different levels. One was for grilling. One had a bar. Another was for lounging. From the lowest deck, a stone path wound its way to a long dock. At the end of the dock was another large deck area with Adirondack chairs. The late-summer sun was splashing pastel hues of lavender, pink, and orange. “It’s quite wonderful here.”
“It is. I can’t get enough of it. Here. Sit.” Clive handed her a beautiful stemmed glass of port and nodded to the teak sectional sofa with light gray cushions.
Colette smiled. “Again, my gratitude.”
“Please. You drove all the way here to give me something from Randolph. It is I who owe youmygratitude.”
Colette sipped on the port. “Max is quite taken with all of this. I was concerned he would be upset with everything being so frenzied and impulsive.”
“He’s a bright young fellow. He adapts easily,” Clive noted.
Colette smiled. “I’m incredibly lucky. Most children would be a handful after a divorce, then moving without notice, then pulling him out of school to find you.”
“Seems like he has an adventurous soul. Good-natured, too.”
