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“Yes! I can’t wait.”
Between the two of us, the refrigerator moved easily. The ladder fit under the square of wood in the ceiling, but it was stuck in place with layers of dried paint.
“I have a crowbar in the breezeway,” I said, leaving again.
“You’ll have to paint the ceiling after I get done with it,” Pam said, taking the implement from me.
“Ha! It’s all going to be repainted.”
She wedged it against the molding and gave it a yank, and a billow of dust came down from where the wood panel had separated.
“Jeez, you’re strong,” I said in awe. “I forgot you’re a gym rat.”
“Not like I used to be,” Pam said, grunting with each pull on the bar.
Soon, the panel was free of paint all the way around, and she could move it so her head fit in the hole. “You got a flashlight?”
“Oh, right,” I said, going to a junk drawer and fishing around. “Here you go.”
Pam reached for it and flicked it on. Holding it in the attic, she cried out with delight. “Wow, wait till you see all the crap up here! It’s packed! Come up.”
She moved aside so I fit on the ladder next to her. I had never been up this close to Pam. Her skin was so nice for a woman her age. She looked natural despite all the plastic surgery she must have had. We oohed and aahed as she swept the flashlight around, illuminating boxes of unknowns, old light fixtures, frames, trunks, metal objects, even a bust of someone.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“Apollo,” Pam said. “He has a laurel wreath around his head.”
“Oh my God, I have a bust of Apollo in my attic? Ha! I want it to go right in the window.” I cackled with abandon, my excitement about restoring the old cottage growing, and I had Pam to thank. I felt the crushing depression lifting a bit.
We climbed down the ladder after jockeying the panel back in place, having decided that we had better prepare for an attic search by covering our hair and wearing old clothes.
“Please come back to explore,” I begged. “Now I can’t wait to see what’s up there.”
“Ha! I can’t wait, either. Hopefully no mice have chewed through anything precious.”
I helped Pam leash up the dogs again.
“Do you want to take a beach walk?” she asked.
“Maybe another time,” I said. “But thank you.”
I watched Pam trudge back up to her house, the dogs pulling her along. I had a pang of affection for her. Once she was out of sight, I pulled on my warmest coat and left for the home improvement store, where I would buy enough paint to do the entire cottage interior by myself until I could find a job. If I wasn’t going to work for money, I’d at least work at making the place more livable.
Early the next morning, I saw Pam on the beach again, headed toward her house. I picked up the phone to call her.
“I saw you out on the sand in this miserable weather! Bring the dogs and have some hot coffee. The ladder is in place, and coveralls are ready, if you want to explore the attic today.”
“I’ll be right there! I’m headed toward you now.”
There were treasures to discover. With the dogs napping at the foot of the ladder, we set up a lamp with an extension cord first.
“Yikes, look at all this crap. It was more interesting by flashlight,” I said, grimacing.
“These boxes look promising! Do you want to open them up here or take them down the ladder?”
“Oh, I’m not sure about all the dust and dirt. Maybe we’d better unpack up here. Are you warm enough?”
But Pam didn’t hear me, already mesmerized by the first box she saw. The tape was disintegrating, and it didn’t take much effort to open the flaps.
