Chapter 4
FOUR
PRESENT DAY
A tap on the car window startled Caitlin.
She’d been so entranced in her thoughts that it took a second to get her bearings: she was parked in the driveway in front of her aunt’s cottage and windmill, with the car’s engine still running.
She turned it off and twisted her head to find a round-faced, white-haired woman peering at her through silver-framed bifocals.
“Hello, there,” the woman said loudly. “Are you okay?”
Caitlin nodded and answered just as loudly, “I’m fine, thanks.”
The woman said something else, but Caitlin couldn’t quite hear her, so she slowly opened the door, allowing the woman time to step back. That’s when she noticed the leashed gray and white Havanese dog near the woman’s feet. It vigorously wagged its tail and barked excitedly at her.
“Pepper, shush,” the woman said sharply to quiet him, but Caitlin didn’t mind.
She bent down to pet the friendly animal, stalling as she decided how to approach her conversation with the passerby.
Caitlin had anticipated that she wouldn’t be able to keep her presence on Dune Island a secret for very long, but she had hoped she’d at least be able to unpack before the locals discovered she was there.
“I don’t mean to be intrusive,” the woman said, as if she could read Caitlin’s mind. “But if you’re lost or looking for someone, maybe I can give you directions?”
As Caitlin straightened into a standing position and looked into the woman’s eyes once again, she suddenly recognized her. Marion Graham, a widow and the only full-time resident on Windswept Way, had been what Lydia affectionately had called “my dearest Dune Island friend.”
Apparently, at second glance, she recognized Caitlin, too. “Oh, look who it is—Lydia’s niece,” she exclaimed. “How wonderful to see you again, Caitlin.”
“It’s nice to see you, too, Mrs. Graham. How are you doing?”
“Please, call me Marion. I’m doing very well, thank you, just a little slower than I used to be.” She puckered her forehead. “How about you—and how’s your aunt?”
Although it made sense that Lydia’s death wasn’t announced in the local newspapers because she hadn’t been a permanent Dune Island resident, Caitlin felt bad that Marion hadn’t been informed. She tried to break the news gently. “I… I’m afraid she passed away a little over a week ago.”
“Oh, dear.” Marion mournfully shook her head. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.” Caitlin’s eyes unexpectedly welled with tears, which she quickly blinked away. She’d been so composed at the funeral, but being back at her aunt’s house was causing her to feel more emotional than usual.
“Even though Lydia and I didn’t keep in close touch during the winter months, I always looked forward to spending time with her when she returned to the island each summer.
I was very sad when she wrote me a note to say she had developed dementia and wouldn’t be returning to Dune Island,” Marion said.
“I still try to keep an eye on her house. Not that there’s ever been a problem with crime in Hope Haven, but on such a deserted road, during the off-season it doesn’t hurt to know who’s coming and going.
That’s why when I saw an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway, I came to find out what it was doing here—you must have thought I was a terrible busybody! ”
“Not at all. I appreciate it that you’ve looked out for my aunt’s home,” said Caitlin.
“And just so you know, the car’s a rental and I’m returning it tomorrow.
So after that, you won’t see a vehicle parked in the driveway, but if you notice lights on in the cottage, please don’t worry—it’s just me, not an intruder. ”
“Ah, it’ll be wonderful to have a neighbor on the street again. As you can see, once the vacationers go home, it’s like a ghost town around here,” said Marion. “Did you bring anyone with you? Your husband and children?”
“No, this is a solo trip,” Caitlin answered evasively, without explaining that all her trips were solo these days, especially after breaking up with Jonathan.
“How long will you be staying?”
“I’m not sure. A few weeks, maybe.” Caitlin felt self-conscious about arriving to sell the house so soon after her aunt’s passing, almost as if she needed to justify her schedule. “I happened to have a long break from work, so I came here to… to make sure everything’s in order in the cottage.”
“I see.” Marion glanced down at Pepper, who was standing on his hind legs and wiggling his backside as he pawed her shins.
To Caitlin’s relief, instead of asking more questions, the elderly woman said, “I hate to cut our conversation short, but it looks like Pepper’s eager to get home to have his treat.
I want to hear all about what you’ve been up to since I last saw you, so once you get settled in, please drop by for a visit. ”
Touched by the welcoming invitation, yet reluctant to commit to sharing “all about” her life, Caitlin smiled and simply replied, “Thank you—that’s very kind.”
As Pepper led Marion down the driveway, Caitlin reached into the car and retrieved her phone from the cupholder.
She scrolled through the texts from the estate attorney until she found the code to the back door to Lydia’s house.
Caitlin tapped the number into the keypad, turned the handle, and braced herself for another wave of memories to wash over her.
Yet when she pushed open the door and saw how much the interior of the house had changed, the first emotion she felt was amazement.
Gone were the dark cabinets, peeling linoleum flooring, and mismatched, oversized appliances; the kitchen now featured open shelves, ceramic tiles, and a sleek, energy-efficient fridge and oven.
In the living room and two small bedrooms, the décor was classic coastal chic. Simple, white-washed furniture and splashes of aquamarine and butter-yellow accents enhanced the neutral color palette of the walls and hardwood floors, creating a contemporary, airy feel.
Aunt Lydia and Uncle Albert would’ve loved how much brighter everything is in here , thought Caitlin, recalling that the room used to be so dim on rainy afternoons they’d need to turn on several lamps so they could see to do a jigsaw puzzle or play a board game together.
Inevitably, Albert would bellyache about all the electricity they were wasting, and then Lydia would tease, “If you’re that concerned about it, we can light candles instead. ”
The memory made Caitlin smile. Neither her aunt and uncle’s playful quibbling, nor the cottage’s minor flaws had ever really bothered her—in fact, their familiarity was kind of comforting.
But she had to admit, the carpenter and designer Lydia’s nephews hired had done a fantastic job renovating and redecorating the little house.
What impressed her most was that the screened-in porch adjacent to the living room had been transformed into a four-season sunroom, with casement windows overlooking the cluster of cottages in the backyard, and the large, crimson-tipped maple tree in the front.
Light and warmth flooded the narrow room, and Caitlin imagined how comfy it would be to curl up on the thick-cushioned rattan sofa and bask in the autumn sunshine.
But for now, she was aching to stretch out for a proper nap, which meant she’d need to make up a bed.
As she headed down the hall to the linen closet, someone knocked on the front door.
Are you kidding me? I’ve literally only been here two minutes!
She reluctantly went to see who her uninvited visitor was.
“Hi there,” the courier greeted her. “Are you Caitlin Hines?”
“Yes, I am.” So much for keeping my presence here a secret.
But he barely glanced up from his tablet as he handed her a cardboard envelope bearing the estate attorney’s name and return address. “I’ll need a signature, please.”
She scrawled her name with the stylus, thanked him, and then circled back to the sunroom. I wasn’t expecting to receive any more documents from Lydia’s lawyer , she thought, dropping onto the sofa. I wonder why he didn’t just email them to me.
Caitlin unsealed the outer packaging and slid out a sheet of letterhead clipped to a small, lavender envelope.
“The attached is for you to receive upon your arrival at the cottage,” read the short, informal memo from the attorney.
“It should be self-explanatory, but don’t hesitate to contact me with questions.
Enjoy your stay and please be sure to let me know when the remodel is completed. ”
What could this be? Caitlin asked herself as she carefully ripped open the sealed flap. Her best guess was that it was a leftover amenity the property management company provided for all the guests, such as a beach parking pass or a modest gift card to a local restaurant.
But what she found inside was a letter. “ Dear Caitlin ,” it read in Lydia’s flowery, unmistakable penmanship. “ Welcome to your island home—I’m so glad you’re here! ”
Caitlin’s eyes immediately smarted and she lowered the paper to her lap, shocked. Hadn’t her arrival in Hope Haven been difficult enough, without receiving a personal, posthumous message from her departed aunt?
She took a deep breath, lifted the letter again and tentatively continued:
It feels strange writing to you in the present, knowing you won’t read this letter until sometime in the future.
I hope it doesn’t upset you to hear from me like this, but I imagine you might have questions about why I’ve required you to return to Dune Island to supervise the windmill remodel.
Instead of communicating my private intentions through an attorney, I’d like to personally elaborate.
“That was thoughtful of her,” murmured Caitlin, relaxing a little.
This week my doctor told me I’m experiencing mild cognitive impairment and she advised me to put my affairs in order while I’m still “of sound mind.”