by Lyn Gardner
Instead of draperies, wooden slatted shutters covered each pane of the bay, and at that particular moment, Robin appreciated the lack of sunlight making its way into the room. Not only was the area rug a rusty orange, but the abstract design of the fabric covering the cushions on the window seat held more shades of orange than Robin knew existed.
“I need to start making a list,” Robin mumbled as she went over to the only other door in the room. Pushing it open, she instantly did a fist pump. This bathroom had everything she needed.
Chapter Five
Robin dried her hands on her jeans as she stood in the bathroom and stared at the framework of a shower that had never been completed. To the right of the toilet, studs ran from floor to ceiling, the wood covered by the newest in tile boards awaiting their finish. The mortared shower pan had also been installed, and a dirty rag was stuffed in the drain hole, preventing the loss of tools or perhaps odor from escaping. Poking through some holes on one side were the stems of a faucet yet to receive their trim and on the floor at her feet was the fixture along with a couple of boxes containing grab bars.
Suddenly, sadness swept over Robin. Behind her was a large stained glass window and below it was an equally substantial claw-foot tub, but a woman in her seventies no doubt would have found it difficult to climb in and out of something like that. Adele had been planning for a future that had never happened.
“Shit,” Robin said, and taking a deep breath, she shook her head and headed back to the suite to see what it contained.
In dire need of the facilities, Robin hadn’t paid any attention to the innkeeper’s apartment, so when she stepped outside the bedroom and saw a tiny kitchen a few steps away, she wrinkled her brow. The need for two kitchens in such close proximity escaped her, and the lines on her forehead grew even deeper as she looked around. The flooring was the same oak Robin had seen throughout the house, and although dusty, it seemed in good condition. The rest of the suite though…not so much.
The kitchen cabinets were old, the finish around the handles having been worn away by continual use, and the countertop was the most basic of laminates, its white and gold speckled surface nicked in some spots and scratched in others. The stove was tiny, barely having enough room for two pots or pans, and the refrigerator reminded Robin of those she had seen in antique stores, although thankfully, it wasn’t turquoise.
The only other door in sight was opposite the kitchen, and going over, Robin stepped inside a room that wasn’t overly large or overly small. With an empty built-in bookcase in one corner and a small window in the other, she guessed it had been used as a spare bedroom, but with nothing more to see, Robin moved further into the suite.
Just past the little bedroom was the dining room, evident by a small chandelier hanging low in the middle of the space. Across the back wall was a set of French doors, and careful not to hit her head on the dangling light, Robin went over and looked through panes of glass much in need of cleaning.
Amidst the tall blades of grass was a vintage metal table and chairs, lying on their sides as if blown over by a storm. The red and white paint once covering their surfaces was now flaked and chipped, and rust was eating away at all the metal exposed. At the back of the property, Robin could see a shed, its gambrel roof adding several feet to its height, and propped against the building were a few forgotten lawn tools, their handles shooting up like sprouts amongst the weeds and grass.
Again, Robin decided to leave investigating the outdoors until another time, and backtracking, she stepped through the wide arched opening leading to the living room. It was easily the largest space in the apartment, but other than two mismatched dining room chairs off to one side, it was empty. However, even though it lacked in furniture, it more than made up for it with what it did contain.
The wall to her right held a fireplace. The brick above the hearth was stained from years of heat and smoke and the mantle, while thick and lengthy, held nothing on its surface except for dust. The far wall had yet another bay window centered in its length. The glass was hidden behind shutters, and the seat was covered with cushions, but instead of varying shades of orange, her aunt had chosen purple and chartreuse. Robin grimaced at the combination, but then she noticed something at the far end of the room, and her frown turned upside down.
So intent on finding a bathroom a few minutes earlier, when Robin was in the glassed-in porch, she hadn’t paid attention to what was outside the windows. If she had, she would have seen the private entrance leading into her apartment. Built to copy the angles of the bay windows, the entryway protruded out into the side yard. The door and flanking sidelights were filled with opalescent glass, the swirls and streaks in the panes providing complete privacy while still allowing sunlight to enter.
Ordinarily, Robin loved the sun. It provided warmth, and it provided light, but at the moment, while one aspect was appreciated, the other was not. As if the cushions on the bay weren’t enough to assault her taste in decorating, most of the oak flooring in the room was hidden underneath a thick baby blue shag carpet. The pale azure fibers were now thinned and dingy from years of traffic, and Robin curled her lip. “I seriously need to start making a list.”
As Robin turned to leave, the fireplace caught her eye again, and going over, she studied the mesh fireguard propped in front of the hearth. She moved it just enough to eliminate the gap at the edges so her cats couldn’t investigate the sooty alcove and then headed back to the front of the house where she was met with deafening meows.
***
It took Robin three trips to get everything from the front of the house to the back, but after the final one was made, her first priority was the two felines still trapped in the carrier. Pulling a plastic tray and a box of kitty litter from the largest of her suitcases, she temporarily set up their bathroom near the French doors across from the kitchen and finally let them out of their cage. “Welcome to your new home, guys.”
The two cats slinked out of the plastic crate, and rubbing against Robin’s legs, they meowed their appreciation for the freedom she had given them. She sat down on the floor and crossed her legs, and scratching their heads, Robin delighted in the purrs of love rumbling in their throats. After a few minutes, they sidled off to investigate their new surroundings, and climbing to her feet, Robin headed for the kitchen to do the same.
Robin’s first stop was the refrigerator, and praying it was clean and turned on, she held her breath as she opened the door. Seeing a box of baking soda on one shelf and a bowl filled with quartered lemons on another, Robin exhaled. “Thanks, Howard.”
“He didn’t do it. I did.”
Robin jumped a foot in the air, and spinning around, she took a step backward, all the while eyeballing the old woman now standing in her kitchen. She was barely five feet tall and wearing an over-sized powder blue sweat suit and a puffy down vest to match. Her silver-gray hair was short and curly, and her eyes were twinkling, and even though Robin guessed the woman was in her mid-seventies, she didn’t shy away from bright colors. Peeking out from under her baggy sweats was a pair of neon yellow running shoes and on her lips was the rubiest of ruby red lipsticks.
“My God, you scared the living daylights out of me,” Robin said, placing her hand on her chest.
“I’m sorry, but the front door was open and old habits die hard.”
“Old habits?”
“Yes, Adele was my best friend. I was in this house almost more than my own,” the woman said, extending her hand. “Maxine O’Connor, but most people just call me Maxi...like in the pad.”
Tiny lines appeared at the corners of Robin’s eyes as she burned the woman’s given name into her memory. “It’s very nice to meet you...Maxine.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you, too.”
“Finally?”
A smile played at Maxine’s mouth as she looked toward the living room. “That one’s Fred isn’t it?” she said, pointing at the tuxedo cat in the doorway. “And the white one is Ginger—right?”
Robin’s mouth fell open. “How did you know that?”
Maxine waved her dainty, age-spotted hand in the air. “I told you. I was your aunt’s best friend. We talked about everything, and your name came up all the time.”
“Really? But...but—”
“I know,” Maxine said, narrowing her eyes for a second. “You never visited other than when you were a child, but that doesn’t mean your aunt didn’t know anything about you. You forget your mother and Adele were as thick as thieves, so Adele was always up on what was happening in your life. I spent many an afternoon listening to her going on and on about you. How you lived in Florida. How you were a writer. How successful you were, and oh...of course, when you came out, that was the topic of many conversations. She was so proud of you. Said she thought you were very strong to do it.”
“What?”
Robin’s naiveté added rosiness to Maxine’s cheeks. “There were no secrets between your mother and Adele, Robin, and there were none between Adele and me either.” Noticing Robin’s deer-in-the-headlights look, Maxine laughed. “Sweetie, I’m way too old to worry myself over who you sleep with. What’s that they say nowadays? Love is love is love?”
Robin’s face split into a grin. “Yeah, that’s exactly what they say.”
“Well, they’re right whoever the hell they are. Life’s just too damn short to worry about what or who your neighbors are doing,” Maxine said. “But I should warn you there are some old fogies on the island who probably don’t agree with me, but they already have one foot in the grave, so don’t give them a second thought.”
“I’ll remember that,” Robin said, now wearing an unwavering smile. “So, since you already know about me and the fact I haven’t been here in forever, can you tell me when exactly Adele bought this place? I thought I inherited a small house up on a hill with a few rooms I could rent out to the seasonal workers. I definitely wasn’t expecting this.”
“She bought it in 1982 during the recession,” Maxine said. “Adele had always wanted to own a B&B, and she’d had her eye on this place for years. The people who owned it had bought it for an investment, so they never considered any of the offers she made, but when the real estate market crashed, suddenly the property was worth less than what they had paid for it. Adele made them another offer, and they snatched it up quicker than a dog can lick a dish, so they could get out from under the mortgage.”
“But how could someone who worked in a bank afford this?” Robin said as she grabbed her backpack off the floor and put it on the counter. “Recession or not, it couldn’t have been that cheap.”
“Oh, well…well, she did get some money when Stanley died.”
“Stanley?”
“Her husband.”
“Shit,” Robin said, hanging her head. “I totally forgot about him. He was killed in Vietnam.”
“That’s right,” Maxine said. “And between the money she received from the government and what she had saved, it was enough for the down payment.”
“Now things are starting to make sense,” Robin said as she unzipped a compartment on her backpack and pulled out two bottles of water. “Would you like one? I’d offer you some coffee or tea, but the rest of my stuff isn’t here yet.”
“I actually need to get going,” Maxine said, glancing at her watch. “Poor Violet over at the fudge shop twisted her ankle this morning, so I need to go fill in.”
“Well, the least I can do is walk you out.”
Maxine strode through the house with Robin in quick pursuit, all the while enjoying what appeared to be the woman’s endless energy.
When they reached the foyer, Maxine stopped by the reception podium and glanced at the business cards. “Valentine was here?”
“Yes, he met me at the ferry. The lawyer arranged it.”
Maxine’s shoulders fell. “I’m sorry to hear that you’re going to sell Safe Harbor. Your aunt put her heart and soul into this house and—”
“I’m not going to sell it. At least, I don’t think I am. Honestly, I haven’t had enough time to wrap my head around all of this, so I don’t really know what I’m planning to do right now,” Robin said, tugging her coat closed. “Except to find out how to turn on the blasted heat.”
The frown that had formed on Maxine’s face faded away, and the tiniest of dimples appeared on her cheeks. “That’s easy,” she said, pointing into the parlor. “There are controls on all the baseboard units. You just need to turn the dial, and the heat will come on.”
“Thanks,” Robin said, rubbing her arms. “Heat wasn’t something I normally had to worry about in Florida.”
Maxine’s eyes held a glimmer of humor as she opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. “Can I give you some advice?” she said, turning around.
“I’ll take all I can get,” Robin said, leaning on the doorframe.
“Dress in layers. You’re going to need it.” After giving Robin an adorable yet devilish smirk, Maxine made her way down the stairs, and climbing onto an old three-wheeled Schwinn, she pedaled away.
“What a character,” Robin said with a grin, and closing the door, she walked back through the house.
As soon as she got to the suite, Robin took the time to adjust the dials on the baseboard heater in the kitchen, but before she could think of what to do next, the thundering clang of the doorbell drove its way through her bones. “Jesus,” she said, and running out to the small hall, she glared at the chime box on the wall above the door. “You are so coming down as soon as I find some tools,” she said before heading back to the foyer.
Robin opened the front door just in time to see Zayne Johnson stack the last of her things on the porch. “Wow, you managed all of that in one trip?”
Zayne glanced at the eight banana boxes filled with groceries and the stack of luggage by the door. “That’s nothing. Piece of cake,” he said, gesturing toward the oversized cart attached to the back of his bike. “The more you haul, the more you...um...make.”
Charmed by the blush appearing on the young man’s face, Robin reached into her back pocket and pulled out her wallet. “Is this okay?” she said, handing him some cash.
“Yeah, it’s great,” he said. After stuffing the money into his jeans, he pulled out a business card. “Can I give you this? It’s got my cell number on it, so if you need any help, just text me. I’m an islander so even in the winter, I’m around.”
“Good to know,” Robin said, taking the card. As she slipped her wallet back into her pocket, she noticed beads of sweat on Zayne’s forehead. “Hey, do you want a bottle of water?” she said, pointing to a case sitting on the porch. “You look a little warm.”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks,” Zayne said, looking at his watch. “The next ferry is coming in soon, and I need to get back. The best thing about the season coming to an end is there aren’t as many dock porters around to compete with, but I can hustle your stuff inside if you want. It’ll only take a second.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Robin said, realizing the boy probably made most of his money on tips. “I can handle it.”
“Okay, well, see you around,” Zayne said, and skipping down the steps, he swung his leg over his bike and rode down the street.
***
An hour after Zayne had dropped off her groceries and luggage, the rest of Robin’s belongings showed up on a dray pulled by two imposing chestnut-colored Belgian Draft horses.
The driver, who introduced himself as Woody Murdock, was almost as massive as the animals. His chest barreled and his shoulders broad, the man appeared to be a six-foot-five tower of strength, but nevertheless, he had brought along his two young sons to assist. Miniature versions of their father, neither seemed to be older than twelve, but like colts on legs still spindly from youth, their height far outreached their age.
Woody explained that most of his deliveries were curbside, but like all the other locals, he had heard about Robin and her connection to Adele Anderson, so curbside was not going to happ
en. Instead, he and his sons carried all the totes into the foyer, and although he refused a tip, Robin did manage to slip some money to his sons, their gratitude quickly showing itself through broad, gap-toothed smiles.
When Robin had packed up her condo, she had done it methodically, purchasing as many plastic totes as were needed to store her things safely, but by seven o’clock that evening, Robin wished she had sold more and packed less.
After searching through the totes for the essentials, she lugged five back to the innkeeper’s suite, leaving the others piled in the entryway to be dealt with later. The next few trips involved carrying her suitcases to the bedroom until finally, the only thing left was the banana boxes filled with her groceries and essentials. Given the size of the larger kitchen, Robin used it as her staging area, spreading the cardboard crates out atop the counters, so she could easily view their contents, and after she placed the perishables into the old fridge in the suite, with shoulders sagging, she slunk back to the front of the house one more time.
Her first stop was White Birch, but a quick search told her there were no sheets or blankets for the bed, and having no desire to climb stairs after trekking through the house a zillion times, Robin headed to the parlor. Standing in the doorway, she looked at the room and nodded. For a while, it was going to have to act as her bedroom.
She carefully removed the sheets covering the sofas and tables, and after turning on the baseboard heaters, Robin traipsed back to the suite again. She was hungry. She was thirsty, and by the sounds of it, so were her cats.
***
