Page 127 of Take This Heart
“Well, my plot is the one that has the smaller dock. I’d want to extend that dock so it feels like the house is right on the water without actuallybeingright on the water.” Her eyes are bright as she talks about it. “I’d like a wraparound porch that goes all the way around the house and endless windows. I love weathered wood, so I’d like a great room overlooking the water with floor-to-ceiling windows and weathered wood on the ceiling.” She stands and grabs a piece of paper and a pen out of a nearby drawer and takes a few minutes to draw it out. “Basically an A-frame with Victorian elements. Wouldn’t that be pretty?”
“Beautiful. I love the shape of these windows and the beams.”
“And endless water right out there.” She taps at the page. “Do you miss being in the city? Your penthouse is beautiful, but do you ever wish you had more space surrounding you? More nature instead of buildings and bright lights?”
“I haven’t missed the city like I thought I would. Being in Windy Harbor has been better for me than I expected. I’ve looked for every opportunity to be there more and when I come into the office to work here, I can’t wait to get back.”
She loops her foot around mine.
“It helps that you’re in Windy Harbor,” I tell her.
She holds her coffee cup in mid-air and gives me a sweet smile. “I thought I would miss the city more too, but I haven’t at all. I miss not painting as much. That’s been set aside a little since I’ve been there. I’ve painted some, but not even close to what I did here. But that’ll change, I’m sure, when things calm down. I’ve loved working on Windhaven, but I need a big space to paint where I can make messes and not worry about it. Like aminipavilion that would be all mine.”
“You should absolutely have that. Would you like me to draw some plans up?”
Her eyes light up. “I would love that.”
As we eat, she gives me more details. I make a few notes in my phone. After we eat, we wash the dishes and when we’re done, she slumps against the counter.
“Okay, I’ve put it off long enough,” she says. “I’m going to the attic.”
“Do you want company?”
“I would love company.”
She leads me to the attic, a fully finished space with an open area, a bedroom, and a bathroom. At one end of the open area, there’s a door that leads to a room filled with boxes and old furniture.
“A lot of my mom’s things are in here. We each took something of hers. I have her jewelry and a few clothes ofhers that remind me of her…her boots.” She lifts her shoulder. “But I left some things that I loved here too. It didn’t feel right to take all of it. I guess I like knowing her treasures are still up here.”
She points to a pretty box. It’s brown wood with colorful metal flowers on top.
“That’s where I think the letters are. My brothers and I were talking and we remember seeing a key in her desk that she’d never let us play with, and we always wanted to. It was one of those pretty skeleton keys.” She leaves the box and walks to the far end of the room, where a sliver of light comes through the small window.
She pauses before she opens a drawer.
“This is one of my favorite pieces. I’d like it in my house one day. None of us could take seeing it all the time after she was gone because she loved this desk and worked here a lot. But I think I’m ready.”
She opens one of the drawers and pulls out a tiny box, slowly lifting the lid. Inside is a skeleton key.
She looks up at me, her expression tentative.
“Are you nervous?” I ask.
“Yes. I don’t know why, but I am.”
She takes a deep breath and moves to the larger decorative box. She smooths her hand over it lovingly, then slips the key inside, her breath hitching when it opens. She looks at what’s inside and I look at her.
When she blinks, tears fall down her cheeks. I put my hand on her back, rubbing gently. She picks up a stack of letters and then sets it aside, pulling out a tiny hospital bracelet and two doll-sized pink socks. She puts her hand to her mouth and picks up the smallest pink knitted hat. A sob breaks from her throat and she turns and buries her head in my chest.
“She must have been so afraid and so devastated. She was so young. I can’t stand thinking about how sad she must have been all those years, thinking about her little girl out there.”
“She’d be glad to know she’s okay,” I tell her.
“I hope sheisokay.” She looks up at me and I wipe her tears away. “I think I have to make sure she is…for Mom.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
NEGOTIATIONS
