Driftwood Point (11 page)

“My favorite kind of painting. I love a good story, whether it's on paper or canvas or whatever.”

They discussed Carly's plans for the reception that would follow the opening of the exhibit of Lis's paintings, Carly telling Lis, “We invited a slew of collectors and critics from the major East Coast cities, so don't be surprised if you get offers for your work. You should probably have prices in mind for any of
those you might want to part with.” Their business concluded, Carly walked Lis to the door. “And there will be a lot of St. Dennis people here as well. You'll probably see some folks you haven't seen in years.”

“And whose names I won't remember.”

“I'd offer to have Ford stick close so he can whisper names in your ear, but he's going to be taking photos for the
St. Dennis Gazette
. He's working for the paper—writing features and such. He's pretty much taken it over from Grace after that bad fall she had last year. But Grace being Grace, she still looks over his shoulder, because she just can't resist knowing everything that goes on.”

“Old habits die hard, they say.”

Carly opened the door and stood next to it while Lis walked out. “I'm so glad you stopped by. The exhibit is going to be wonderful. I'll take good care of your works, I promise.”

“I have no doubt you will. Thanks for taking me around. I'll see you soon.”

The heat outside hit Lis like a sledgehammer. She had almost forgotten that the weather here in summer could change on a dime. The early morning had been pleasant enough. The afternoon would turn out to be not so much.

Lis got into her car and turned on the ignition. Then she opened the windows and turned on the air conditioner, letting it blow hot for a moment before driving off, the windows once again closed. She'd started back toward Charles Street on Old St. Mary's Church Road, pausing for a moment to admire the old Enright mansion from the street. All brick,
Georgian in style, and set back on the vast property at just the right place, the house was a legend in St. Dennis. Until this morning, she'd never been inside. It was, she realized, everything she'd thought it would be, high-ceilinged and handsome, and filled with beautiful furniture. It was all she could do not to
oooh
and
ahhh
.

On a whim, she made a U-turn at Elgin Road, and at the place where Hudson Street dead-ended, she made a right turn. Halfway up the block on the left stood a two-story house, colonial in style, with a wide front porch and several chimneys sticking out from the roof. The house appeared to have been recently painted, and the porch was lined with a row of rocking chairs painted black. Baskets of colorful flowers hung on the porch, and huge pots overflowing with red blooms stood on either side of the front door. A marker on the front lawn read
CASSIDY HOUSE ~ CIRCA 1790.

This was the house where her . . . Lis couldn't even remember how far back the relationship went, how many
greats
came before
grandfather
whose name had been Oliver Cassidy, though his name and the fact that he was a well-to-do merchant was all she knew about him. She suspected her father had known little more. It was a pretty house, certainly not a mansion, but a substantial place, one that in its day must have been impressive and had been occupied by one of the more prominent citizens of St. Dennis. And it was the only tangible evidence that her father had to prove the injustices that had been done to his family.

“We were robbed,” he'd tell her and Owen,
who'd be huddled in the backseat of their old sedan not quite understanding what he was talking about. “We'd be living there now, if not for those bastards.”

“That's Cory West's house,” a confused Owen had once made the mistake of saying. “Why would we be living in Cory West's house?”

Their father's explosion of anger taught them both to never question him again on the subject, no matter how many times he forced them to make the trip and made them listen to the tale. After that, they'd made the ride in silence and tried not to listen to their father's ramblings.

Lis pulled to the curb and parked the car.

“It's just a
house
,” she said finally. “It's just a house . . .”

The sad truth was that her father had let this house—and what it stood for in his mind—control his life, to the point of destroying it.

“Dad, it's always been just a house.”

She put the car in drive and headed back to the island.

Chapter Six

M
ind where you step,” Ruby called to Lis from the front porch of the store. “Floor might be falling in on itself. No one's set foot in there since I don't know when.”

“I'll be careful, Gigi. Don't worry.” Lis got into her car and rolled down the window only long enough to wave as she drove away. She'd intended to walk to the point, but the early heat combined with the invasion of hungry green-headed flies convinced her that this was not going to be a day to enjoy the great outdoors.

The drive took all of a minute. Lis pulled onto the grass in front of the old cottage and turned off the car, sat for a few minutes savoring the view. Through the windshield, she could see the bay beyond the point, the water glistening in the sun. As a child, she and Owen, and later she and her girlfriends, sat at the end of the pier to watch the sun set. Sometimes storms would blow up from the south, and they'd watch the thunder clouds swirl up the bay and wait until the rain
began to pelt the surface of the water before they'd run for cover. They'd played in the ruins of the old building that sat out near the road. It had been their fort, their playhouse, their pirate ship. The point had been one of her favorite places as a child, and she was coming to appreciate it even more as an adult. Peace and solitude were guaranteed. Alone with the pines standing sentinel, she could hear herself think. Even with the windows rolled up, she could hear the
shushing
of the tree branches as they brushed against each other in the breeze. It was, in fact, music to her ears. She'd been living in and around the city for so long that she'd forgotten there was another way to live.

She got out of the car and walked to the front door and stood on the small front porch, slapping the backs of her legs and her arms while she tried to jiggle the lock open. Grateful when it finally turned, she pushed the door open and closed it immediately, hoping to lock out the nasty flying insects that had set upon her like vampires. She stood inside the door and looked around to get her bearings.

The first thing Lis noticed was the smell of rotting wood. The second was the sound of very tiny feet scurrying away and out of sight.

“Oh please. Not mice,” she pleaded aloud. But of course there would be. The house had been vacant forever and surely there would be plenty of places for the tiny rodents to enter.

Okay, so there are mice. To be expected, considering the age of the house and the fact that no one had been living there to chase the little buggers out. Put
exterminator
at the top of the list.

Lis walked cautiously into the center of the room, which went from front to back, and in its day had served as both living room and dining room. Beneath her feet, the floor seemed to sag, and that couldn't be good.

A large fireplace stood along the right-side wall. The space was bisected by stairs that led to the second floor, which she'd explore later. To the left of the dining area would be the kitchen. She took a deep breath and ventured toward it. More little scritching noises caused her shoulders to momentarily hunch together, but she moved on to the kitchen. There were no appliances and the cabinets were ancient. The floor was the same wood as the rest of the house but seemed a little more solid than that in the front room. The only light came through the window over the old porcelain sink and there were cobwebs everywhere—in the corners and the windows and hanging from the ceiling. The remains of dead bees, wasps, and flies were on every windowsill, and the counters were covered with mouse droppings.

“Ugh.” She made a face. “Disgusting!”

Returning to the front of the house, Lis followed the hall that led to the bedrooms and a small bathroom, mentally noting where the boards felt soft and sagged. The bathroom was a total disaster, the old tub chipped and the floor beneath it indented by a full four inches. The ceiling was coming down in two places and the water stains around the window went clear down to the floor. The sink was small and half hanging off the wall, the screws holding it
upright having rusted. She backed out of the room and checked the front bedroom.

Here the windows were covered with a thick layer of dirt and more vines crept through the sills. The ceiling, however, showed no water stains and the floor seemed solid beneath her feet, so that was a plus. But when she opened the closet she came face-to-face with the skeleton of what looked to be a hideous beast, and she'd startled herself by screaming right before she slammed the door. She had no idea what sort of animal might have been locked in there, and at that moment, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Lis couldn't make it out of that room fast enough.

Her heart still pounding, she headed for the steps to the second floor, then hesitated, uncertain she was ready to make that climb, not knowing what she might find. Blocking out the image of the beast in the bedroom closet, up she went.

The second floor was one large room with windows on all four sides. Cobwebs were everywhere. Four metal beds, the mattresses long gone, marched along the front wall, and several old dressers stood back-to-back in the middle of the room. She cautiously brushed aside the cobwebs so she could look out the back window, but even after she cleaned away the detritus, she found vines had grown up across the bay side of the house and completely obliterated the view. Dead stems, brown and brittle leaves still attached in places, snaked through one side of the window and trailed along the perimeter of the room.

But despite all that, she was drawn to the space.

Here her grandmother Sarah and her sisters had slept, laughed and cried, and probably played and teased each other and told each other tales and shared their secrets. For a moment Lis felt if she closed her eyes, she would see them, hear them. The sensation washed through her and brought a smile to her face. Sarah, of whom Lis had no memories, came alive to her. Aware of the fact that her family's roots were deep in this place, Lis felt determined to save it if she could.

She began to look at the space with a critical eye.

The windows were small, but could be replaced with larger ones, which would broaden the view of the bay. Skylights could be added to bring in more light. Watermarks stained the ceiling in several places, though there were no holes in the roof as far as she could see, and she could feel air seeping in from various places around the room.

Still, if done correctly, the second floor would be a perfect studio. She could paint here.

Lis went back downstairs, mentally adding
landscaper
to her list of people to call. Those vines would have to be cut down along with the jungle surrounding the back of the house where they'd originated.

Taken all together, the project would be enormous. Nothing could remain untouched. Lis's heart sank. There was no way she'd be able to do this alone. Either she'd have to hire someone—that would be Alec, if Ruby had any say in it, and of course she did, since the house belonged to her—or Lis would
have to give up on the idea of bringing the old place back to life.

She made a second tour of the first floor, trying to look at each room from a practical viewpoint. The kitchen could be redone. It would need a stove and a refrigerator, but the cabinets, despite their age, were in good condition and her optimistic self thought they might look fine with a coat of paint. She could do that. The floor was the biggest problem. It would need to be shored up somehow, and she suspected that whole sections would need to be replaced. She had no idea what that might entail, but she was pretty sure it would be a pricy project.

Almost all the window frames were damaged by insects or water, and some were rotted. Windows, like the floors and the plumbing and the electrical wiring, would require a professional. The brick fireplace looked fine, but there was no telling what was inside it. A chimney sweep was a must, and judging by the loose bricks that lay broken in the firebox, a mason would probably be a good idea as well. The bathroom would need to be entirely replaced, and the smaller of the two bedrooms would make an adequate office. She supposed she could use the larger one as a bedroom, but the thought of not spending the night under Ruby's roof was disconcerting. What if Ruby needed her in the middle of the night?

She brushed the thought aside. Ruby had been doing quite well without her for a very long time. Why would she need her now?

The back door was stuck shut and Lis was afraid that forcing it would break the jamb, so she let it go.
She went back out the front to inspect the foundation more closely, but she was met by a cloud of flies, all of which seemed to attack her at once.

“Damn.” She ran to the car and hopped in. Several flies managed to follow her and she chased them around the front of the car with a magazine she found under the passenger seat. She was able to dispatch three of them, but several others managed to outwit her, and they bedeviled her all the way back to the store. She got out of the car and ran inside.

“Look like you seen a ghost, Lisbeth Jane,” Ruby observed from the counter, where she was helping a customer pack up her purchases.

“If I spent enough time out there today, I would be a ghost before too long.” Lis slapped a fly that settled on her calf. “Ha! Got him.”

“Those flies be bad today.” Ruby's customer nodded. “'Bout ate me alive when I went to hang the clothes out on the line this morning. Chased me right back in.”

Lis recognized the voice as belonging to one of Ruby's neighbors.

“So who hung up all those damp clothes, Mrs. Banks?” Lis asked.

“Nobody. I left that basket right there by the back door. Get to it when the wind shifts and blows the flies back where they came from.” The woman turned around. “Heard you be back to show off them paintings of yours over to the mansion, Lisbeth.”

“You heard right.” Lis put her arms around the tiny white-haired woman and gave her a hug. “How are you, Mrs. Banks? How are D.J. and Mac?”

“Good, good. Married nice girls, got nice families, both of 'em.” Ada Banks looked Lis up and down. “Got skinny since you been gone. Ruby, the girl needs some meat on those bones.”

“She be fine, Ada.” Ruby finished packing the bag. “Eats like a horse, this one.”

“Thanks a lot, Gigi.” Lis grinned good-naturedly. “Speaking of which, I think it's almost time for lunch.”

“Soup's in the fridge, top shelf. You could go on back and heat it up, you have a mind,” Ruby told her.

“I have a mind,” Lis said as she went into Ruby's new living quarters.

She found the soup right where Ruby said it would be, and she set it on the counter while she looked for a pot to heat it in. She loved Ruby's new pull-out shelves and decided that she'd put them in the kitchen in the cottage when the time came. She had just selected a pot and poured the contents of the soup container into it when she heard someone come into the kitchen.

“For the record, you look pretty good for someone who eats like a horse. My cousin Cynthia really does
eat like a horse, and she'd make three of you, easy.”

Lis looked over her shoulder, knowing who she'd find.

“Alec, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“Ruby asked me to stop over and do some touch-up painting in her bathroom.” He leaned back against the doorjamb, a paintbrush in his right hand. “When Ruby calls, I'm there.”

“That's nice of you.” She tried to busy herself, first by turning on the burner and adjusting it, then looking in the drawer for a spoon with which to stir it.

“Yes, it is.”

She knew without looking that behind her he was wearing that goofy, self-assured smile she remembered from high school. The same smile he'd worn right before she turned him down for the prom.

“So I hear you're thinking about doing some work at the cottage down on the point.”

“I am.” Ruby strikes again, Lis thought.

“You took a look at it this morning?” he asked, though obviously he knew that she had.

Lis nodded.

“So what's it look like inside?”

“What you'd expect a place to look like after it's been sitting for, I don't know, twenty, thirty years? I don't know how long. Ruby would remember, though.”

“Yeah, for one hundred years, she's amazing. She doesn't forget a damned thing.”

“Finding that out, are you?”

“Found that out a long time ago.” He came into the room and leaned on the island and ran a hand over the wooden top. “Smooth as a baby's butt.”

“Gigi said that used to be the old floor.” Lis nodded toward the island.

“Looks good now, doesn't it?” He openly admired his work. “It came back so fine.” He looked up at her. “What's the floor in the old place?”

“I'm not sure I understand what you mean.”

“What kind of wood is it? I'm sure it's wood, local most likely, judging by the time the place was
built. So it's probably white pine, but it could be oak. Lots of red oak around.”