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It wasn’t her fault. I was struggling so much, fighting depression, missing my friends who were still in our shared apartment in Chicago, grief-stricken over Randy, guilt-ridden over the missing baby. As I’d predicted, Eimy didn’t stay in touch, and after a while, my anger had settled down to a dull, ever-present roar.
“Oh, crap,” I hissed, watching Pam and her two mongrels converging on the cottage.
She must have seen me trying to hide because she stopped, squinting at the shack from the beach. I couldn’t be that cruel to her; she had been only kind and generous to me.
“Oh, what the hell.” Unlatching the rickety door, I pulled it open with some difficulty and tried to smile. But then something surprising happened; sudden pressure built up in my throat, and tears tried to slip from the corners of my eyes. Tears? I’m not a crier. Why would my stepmother evoke that response?
“Hey, there,” Pam cried from the path. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Right,” I replied, holding the door, wiping my face on my shoulder. “And here you are.”
“Can you come out to play? I don’t want to drag my dogs inside your adorable house.”
“It’s a shack, Pam. You saw it at its worst. They can come in as long as they don’t shit on my new rugs.”
“It would be a first if they did,” Pam said, bending over to take off their leashes.
Once loose, they made a beeline for the expensive white cotton canvas Restoration Hardware sectional, dragging wet sand-coated paws up with them. Pam had bought it for me, so I could hardly complain.
“Oops,” Pam said without conviction. “Down, bad dogs. Sorry about your couch.”
I couldn’t help myself, laughing. “If there are some sandy dog prints on it, all the better.” I pointed to the kitchen table and chairs positioned under a window overlooking the sea. “Have a seat, if you’d like. I’ll make coffee.”
“Can I help you with this?” Pam asked, waving her hand in an arc around the space. She’d hinted at it before. “You know I can’t wait to do it.”
“Yes. You can do anything you want.” I meant it. She loved decorating, and I loved her style, so she had free rein.
“I’ll pay for it, too. Randy would want me to. I feel you didn’t get your fair share, and I want to make it right.”
Frowning, I didn’t know what to make of that. I brought two mugs of coffee to the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought I got what he wanted me to have.”
“He wanted you to have enough. It’s up to me to see to it that you have more if needed, and saving an old cottage like this might take more than you have. Trust me, I’ve been there. You can keep working on this place for the rest of your life.” Lifting the cup to her mouth, she took a sip of the brew, looking surprised that it was so good. “You make the best cup of coffee,” she said.
“You bought me the best coffeemaker.”
“What’s it look like underneath?” she asked, pointing to the floor.
“The cellar? It’s stone, with a wet sand floor. Not useable.”
“Ours was the same,” Pam said. “We’re far enough from the water’s edge, and I think you are, too. Jack put in an extensive drainage system, and it’s as dry as a bone. If you need more room, that might be an answer, unless you want to build up.”
“The attic has a partition, like someone was going to make it into two rooms. I saw the blueprints this morning. The only problem is that.” I pointed to a square of wood set in molding above the refrigerator. “It’s the access.”
“Oh, wow, let’s get up there,” Pam said, nodding to the fridge. “We can move that thing. You got a ladder?”
“You want to get up in my attic?” I asked, incredulous. Pam surprised me with her adventuresome spirit.
“Why, yes! I can’t wait. Do you want to?”
“I’ll put jeans on, if you’ll wait a minute. We should cover our hair, too. I have no idea what’s up there or when anyone was last up there. Do you know who used to live here?”
“When Jack and I moved into our place, the kids were small, so it’s been at least twenty-five years. This was a vacation rental as long as I can remember.”
“No wonder it was so dirty. Ugh. I’ll be right back.”
When I came back a few minutes later, I went to a door that led to the cellar and pulled out a ladder.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, finding it hard to picture Pam really wanting to explore.
