Chapter 9 #3
“I’m coming back. I just need to unload this hammer and these screwdrivers,” he explained, referring to the tools in his bib. “Otherwise, I’m going to hurt someone—namely, me.”
“Here, you can wrap them in my balaclava, it’s making me too hot,” she suggested, pulling it over her head and handing it to him.
Since she was no longer incognito, she figured she might as well take the elastic out of her hair, too.
As her locks cascaded to her shoulders, Shane stared at her with a quizzical expression on his face.
She shrugged and explained, “Anonymity is overrated. Besides, as long as we keep moving, no one will have a chance to ask us any questions—including your cousin.”
“If we’re going to be dancing that long, I’d better get rid of my work boots, too,” he said. “Otherwise they’ll give me blisters.”
Aww, that’s so sweet that he’d take off his boots—most guys I know would just refuse to dance any longer , thought Caitlin, thoroughly charmed.
After six or seven more songs, the DJ played a quieter number. As much fun as Caitlin was having—and even though deep down she may have wanted to feel Shane’s arms around her waist—common sense dictated that it crossed a line to slow dance with a man who was also her hired contractor.
Shane seemed to come to the same conclusion, because he announced, “I’m thirsty. Can I get you a drink? Cider? Beer? More cranberry juice?”
“Just water, please,” said Caitlin. “I’d like to use the restroom. Do you know where it is?”
“It’s over at the education center—just follow the signs with the skeletons on them. They’re pointing the way. I’ll meet you back at the table where I left my tools.”
Heading toward the building, Caitlin thought, I’d love to visit the education center when it’s open . It’s too far to walk here from the cottage, but I think it’s on the bus line…
After using the bathroom, she hurried toward the exit, eager to get back to the barn and dance with Shane again.
A tall man wearing a firefighter’s costume was coming in, but he backed up and held the door for her.
There were two more firefighters behind him, and they also moved aside to let her pass.
“Hey, I know you!” the first one said to her.
“Y-you do?” There was something familiar about him, too, and Caitlin’s shoulders tensed.
“Yeah. Didn’t we rescue you from a tree last week?” He gave her a cocky smirk.
It took a second for Caitlin to realize he was making a joke in reference to their respective costumes. “Nope, wasn’t me. I’m an indoor cat,” she said with a cheeky smile, making all three men laugh.
As she walked away, she heard one of the guys ribbing the man who’d spoken to her. “You gotta work on your pickup lines—that was embarrassing.”
“Yeah, Chief,” agreed the third guy. “You just got burned !”
Caitlin was halfway down the path when it struck her why the jokester looked familiar: he bore a slight resemblance to one of the lifeguards in the photo with Nicole.
He was much older, of course, and he was wearing a fire helmet, so it was difficult to see his hair, but Caitlin could’ve sworn he had the same wide, puckish grin as the blond kid in the photo.
She was tempted to go back into the education center for a second look.
But it would be weird if she hung out by the bathrooms, waiting for him.
Besides, even if she confirmed that he was the same guy as the one in the photo with Nicole, then what would Caitlin do with that information?
It wasn’t as if she was going to question him about how they’d known each other.
Shane’s waiting for me, and I’d much rather dance with him than chase down some stranger to satisfy my curiosity , she thought, and continued toward the barn.
It was close to 11:00 when Shane and Caitlin left the party.
Fortunately, the people she’d met throughout the rest of the evening didn’t question how they knew each other or ask where Caitlin was from, the way Joyce had done.
They simply exchanged warm greetings, commented about each other’s costumes, or expressed enthusiasm for the fundraiser, and then they resumed eating, drinking, or dancing.
As they pulled into the driveway to Lydia’s house, Caitlin started to say, “I’m glad Marion encouraged us to go tonight. That was the most?—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” interrupted Shane.
It took a second for Caitlin to understand what had caught his attention: the arms of the windmill were shrouded in long, thick toilet paper streamers, and so was the sunroom roof. There were also several rolls of toilet paper unfurled across the lawn.
Shane rapidly parked his truck, jumped out, and strode up the walkway, leaving Caitlin to lower herself from the high cab seat.
“Who would do something like that?” he fumed, tilting his head back as he surveyed the windmill.
“Probably teenagers.” Caitlin was surprised he seemed so mad about it.
TP-ing houses and smashing jack-o-lanterns had been a fairly common Halloween prank when she was young.
Trying to lighten the mood, she said, “They’ve made a mess, but on the plus side, this is the closest the windmill has come to having sails on its arms in centuries. ”
Shane looked at her. “I don’t see how you can joke about it.”
“It’s just a little harmless fun. No big deal.”
“Trespassing and defacing someone else’s property isn’t just a little harmless fun! Whoever did this was being completely disrespectful,” Shane said. “I only wish I’d been here to catch the stupid little punks in action. They should be held accountable.”
She didn’t know why he was getting so bent out of shape, but Caitlin pointed out, “They didn’t deface anything. It’s biodegradable toilet paper. I can clean it up in the morning.”
“How? I hope you don’t intend to climb up there on a ladder.”
“No, but if I lean out the loft window and use a really long broom, I bet I could sweep most of it away.”
“Don’t even think of trying that,” warned Shane. “It’s dangerous. I’ll clean everything up in the morning.”
“But tomorrow’s Saturday, your day off. You shouldn’t have to spend part of it working here.”
“Unfortunately, that’s what happens when someone does something so irresponsible—other people usually end up paying the consequences.”
“Okay, I’d appreciate your help,” Caitlin conceded, sensing that it was futile to insist she’d deal with the mess by herself. “I should go in now. Thank you for taking me to the party.”
“You’re welcome,” said Shane, but he was surveying the sunroom roof instead of looking her way. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Is nine o’clock all right?”
“Sure,” agreed Caitlin. Yet as she retreated into the cottage, she thought, I hope there’s a big windstorm overnight and it blows everything away, so he doesn’t have to come back in the morning.
After having such a pleasant time dancing and literally letting her hair down, she was utterly disappointed that the evening had ended on a sour note.
Everything had been going so well, and our chemistry was fantastic , Caitlin thought dejectedly.
I mean, he works for me, so it’s not as if I thought he was going to kiss me good night or ask me out on a real date.
But I at least expected him to say he was glad I went to the party or that he had a good time, too—instead of obsessing over what somebody did to the windmill.
She didn’t entirely blame him for being upset about the toilet paper mess: it showed that he believed in being a good neighbor and he valued personal accountability.
Yet his response to the prank seemed a little over-the-top, bordering on self-righteousness.
Didn’t he say he always triple-checked Sammy’s work?
Maybe he has unrealistic standards for how teenagers should behave…
If Shane is this upset about kids TP-ing the cottage, how would he feel if he knew how irresponsible I was when I was a teenager?
she wondered as she went into the bathroom and began washing the mascara whiskers off her cheeks, and the black dot from her nose.
What would he think of me if he knew my actions led to Nicole’s death?
Despite Lydia insisting it wasn’t her niece’s fault Nicole had drowned, Caitlin had always felt her aunt was wrong about her, and Mrs. McDougal was right.
Instead of making out with Donald in the dunes, I should have stayed at the party with Nicole.
If I hadn’t abandoned her, she never would have gotten bored and walked back to the cottages by herself…
Usually, the memory of Pam screaming at her filled Caitlin with so much shame she could barely stand the sight of her own reflection.
But tonight, she caught her eye in the mirror and questioned the narrative she’d believed for twenty years.
Was it true that Nicole left the party because she was bored?
And did she really pass the staircase to the cottages by mistake?
Or was there more to the story than that?
Caitlin also wondered whether the blond lifeguard in the photo was the same guy dressed as a firefighter tonight. And if he was, did he know why the date of Nicole’s death was written on the placemat?
She splashed water on her cheeks and then scowled at her reflection. “Stop it,” she said aloud. Stop looking for a way to rewrite the past. The fact is that Nicole died and it was my fault, so I can forget about someone like Shane ever liking me.
Her muscles aching from dancing, and her guilt closer to the surface than ever, she wearily changed into her pajamas and collapsed into bed.
Caitlin woke at dawn to a hard rain battering the roof.
She rose, shuffled to the living room, and opened the front door.
Peeking out, she noticed the heavy precipitation had washed virtually all the toilet paper off the windmill.
White fist-sized blobs littered the lawn beneath its arms, like snowballs.
The sunroom roof was clean, as well, and she assumed the toilet paper had been washed into the gutter, where it would soon dissolve.
She went back to her room and texted Shane: The rain cleared the TP off the windmill and roof, so no need for you to come by this morning. Thanks anyway.
She hit the send arrow and set down her phone. I should’ve trusted my intuition that going to the party with him was a bad idea , she thought regretfully. But I won’t make that mistake again. From now on, I’m keeping our relationship strictly professional.