Chapter 6
SIX
PRESENT DAY
Caitlin wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Crying now won’t change what happened in the past , she told herself. It’ll only keep me from making progress today.
Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to go up into the loft of the windmill. So she cleared a path for Shane through the neatly arranged gardening and lawn tools. Then she turned around, went outside, and locked the door behind her.
After she’d washed her face and lingered over a second cup of coffee, Caitlin felt composed enough to take her daily stroll into town. Inspired by the crisp, autumn air, when she reached the market, she went inside and purchased the ingredients for making apple cinnamon muffins.
Baking will be a good distraction from dwelling on the past , she reasoned. And if the muffins turn out, maybe I’ll bring a few to Marion as a thank-you for recommending Shane .
The prospect of baking made her recall her uncle’s exaggerated complaints about how hot the kitchen became when Lydia baked cookies for the guests on Saturday mornings.
It’s too bad Uncle Albert never made it to the island in the fall, when the weather was cooler.
On a day like today, he would’ve been glad to warm up near the oven, reading his paper while Aunt Lydia baked dessert…
The scenario was bittersweet to imagine.
It also hurt to think about how pleased Lydia had been that their niece had wanted to spend Thanksgiving with them on Dune Island.
But what could Caitlin do about it now that her aunt and uncle had passed away?
Shaking her head, she pushed the recollection from her mind, just as she’d done with the other plans she and Lydia had made before Nicole drowned, and everything changed.
Converting the loft into a sitting room is the only dream from the past that I can still fulfill for Aunt Lydia , she realized. So instead of acting like such a baby about being here, I need to muscle through it and do whatever it takes to make sure the results are amazing.
Caitlin had just set the muffins on the cooling rack when her phone rang.
“Hi, Caitlin,” her sister-in-law whispered.
“Suzanne? Is everything okay?” replied Caitlin, baffled by her low voice.
“Yes. I’m just being quiet so the children won’t hear me.
I don’t want to get their hopes up in case you’re busy, but is there any chance you have time for a quick video chat with them today?
I’ve been trying to stall until you were more settled in, but they’re dying to see ‘Auntie’s Auntie’s windmill. ’”
Caitlin had to laugh at the reference. Although she’d told her brother and sister-in-law about the stipulation for her inheritance, all she’d said to the children was that she was fixing up her aunt’s old windmill so someone would want to buy it.
Because they’d never met Lydia, and Charlie had barely known her, either, Caitlin had omitted the details about her aunt dying and leaving the property to her.
So the children thought it still belonged to Lydia, and they’d been calling it “Auntie’s Auntie’s windmill,” as if that were its proper name.
“Sure, I’d love to chat with them,” agreed Caitlin. “Just give me half an hour to clean up a mess I made in the kitchen.”
When Suzanne called back and Caitlin showed the children the cottage through her phone screen, they thought it was cute—but when she showed them the view from outside, they were utterly fascinated by the windmill.
“Can you press the button?” Logan, her older nephew asked.
“What button?”
“The one that makes that big fan on the roof spin around.”
Caitlin smiled and explained the function of the windmill’s arms, adding, “They’re locked in place now, so they don’t turn. But that’s okay because the windmill isn’t used for grinding grain anymore—it’s mostly just for decoration.”
“We have a ’coration, too. It’s for Halloween,” Caitlin’s younger nephew, Archie, piped up. “We made it out of leaves and Daddy’s clothes. ’Cept I forgot what it’s called.”
“A scarecrow,” his brother wisely informed him. “It has a jack-o-lantern for its head and a LED candle inside so his eyes light up. Show her, Mom.”
Caitlin’s sister-in-law directed the camera toward the front step, so Caitlin could see it. “He looks so real that if it wasn’t for his orange noggin, I’d think it was your daddy sitting there,” she raved.
“Can you show us what the windmill looks like on the inside?” interjected Caitlin’s niece, Maya, keeping them on topic.
“Okay, I’ll give you a quick peek, but then I have to go—I have a meeting with the carpenter who’s going to fix it up.”
The children oohed and ahhed when they saw the rustic, rough-hewn, eight-walled interior of the windmill.
“It’s like a fort,” Logan said.
“No, it’s like a log cabin,” countered Maya. “What’s that ladder for?”
“That’s a staircase. It leads to the loft on the second story.”
“Cool. Can you show us what’s up there?”
“Mm, maybe another time.” Despite resolving to be braver, Caitlin still felt apprehensive about being on the phone with the children the first time she went into the loft. “Right now, I have to hop into the shower before the carpenter comes.”
“Okay, you guys, let’s say goodbye to Auntie Caitlin,” her sister-in-law instructed, and the children chorused their farewells.
“Bye-bye, everyone. I love you,” Caitlin echoed.
After going outside and locking the door behind her, she lingered next to the windmill for a moment, smiling at her niece and nephews’ childish excitement about its old, skeletal and somewhat drab interior.
Funny, how seeing it through their eyes had made being inside “Auntie’s Auntie’s windmill” feel a little less daunting.
Now, my next challenge is to get over my hangup about going into the loft…
When Shane showed up at 2:00 on the dot, Caitlin’s first thought was, Why on earth would his cousin think he needs help finding a date?
I bet women hit on him all the time—he’s the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome!
He was also incredibly muscular, neatly dressed, and he had a cleft in his clean-shaven chin.
“Hi, Caitlin,” he said, extending his hand. Little surprise that his skin was smooth and warm, and his grip was firm.
“Hello, Shane,” she replied, hoping she hadn’t squeaked.
Usually, Caitlin wasn’t flustered like this by a man’s appearance.
Maybe it was because after he’d made such a poor impression on the phone, she wasn’t expecting him to look so pulled-together in person.
“Should I show you the space, first, or do you want to hear what I envision for the remodel?”
“We can do both at the same time.” He gave her a friendly grin, and Caitlin felt oddly relieved to notice his teeth were a little crowded.
“Okay, sure.” She moved toward the windmill. Patting the gray shingled exterior, she said, “So, the project is to convert this into a living area. It has a loft, which will need to be remodeled, too.”
“This is my lucky day.” His grin broadened. “When you told me your address, I was hoping the project would include the windmill.”
“You might not feel so lucky when you see the interior,” warned Caitlin, although she was pleased by his enthusiasm.
“The windmill was built in the mid-1800s, so obviously it has been structurally restored a couple of times since then and it’s had some minor repairs, too.
Sadly, the previous owners gutted it in the 1960s so they could use the space as their rental office.
If you ask me, it was a shame to destroy all that history, especially since they only needed room for a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet, which they could’ve squeezed in if they’d really tried.
At least, that’s what my uncle said when he and my aunt bought the property twenty-some years ago. ”
“So the previous owners didn’t leave any of the functioning machinery?”
“Only the gear shaft mechanism near the ceiling, and this.” Caitlin tapped her foot against the millstone that had been repurposed into a step in front of the windmill door.
She’d always loved that feature. “And wait till you see the beams and rafters. Some of the wood is original—or nearly original—and I have a feeling that beneath the grime, it’s gorgeous. ”
She unlocked the door and pushed it open. Shane followed her inside and almost immediately gave a low, appreciative whistle. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This wood is amazing. Please tell me you don’t want to cover it up with drywall?”
“No way—I want to keep as much of it exposed as possible.”
“Phew, that’s good. ‘Cause if you wanted to cover it up, it would be such a travesty I’d have to turn down the job on principle.”
Caitlin laughed, something she wouldn’t have pictured herself doing inside the windmill. “I do think the stairs will need to be completely replaced though.”
“Agreed.” He sidestepped the lawn equipment to examine the staircase. “We’ll have to get creative because of the shape of the walls, but I’ll put in something much safer. Although this is sturdy enough for now. Can we go up and take a look around?”
“Sure.”
“Great. After you.” He stepped back and gestured for her to go first.
I can do this. I can do this , she thought but she couldn’t seem to move.
Her hesitation was so prolonged that Shane suggested, “I can go alone if you’re uncomfortable with heights? Or with… bats?”
“No, I don’t mind the height, and as far as I know, there’s no evidence of bats getting in.”
“Good, ’cause if I saw a colony of them up there, I’d probably scream.”
Caitlin chuckled. His good-natured banter quieted her anxiety and she crossed in front of him and climbed the stairs. To her relief, the empty room didn’t evoke any strong emotional response, although the dusty floor elicited a sneeze.