Duck wallpaper, Brady Bunch paneling—none of that was a deterrent. It was just a place to be until the summer ended and her check from Stone cleared.
A place to be that didn’t overwhelm her with the memories of Dean. Even though he literally put up the roof that would be over her head.
ChapterFourteen
Twenty-four hours later, J.J. had moved herself into Treach’s cottage. It was outdated, sure, but it was clean, it was solid, and it was clearly meticulously maintained.
Delbert Treach was a stickler, and this place showed it. There wasn’t a loose screen or nail out of place. It was just out of style. And it was a little musty from being all closed up. J.J. remedied that quickly by opening a few windows. The breeze was cold, but it was fresh.
And really, the main feature wasn’t the house. It was the location. The cottage was nestled in trees, hidden from the road. In fact, there were almost too many trees. But it was also on a hill, so while it was a ranch, it had a walk-out basement. The walkout was to the private beach and dock.
Delbert may not have style, but he did have sense. Nothing stood in the way of the wall of windows on the main floor or the walkout below. If you have the lake as your view, why ruin it with drapery or anything else?
After an hour of open windows and a once over with a rag and some lemon pledge, J.J. deemed it good enough to stay in.
Better than the fresh smell and view was the peace she felt in the space. It wasn’t Dean’s. It wasn’t filled with moments at every corner. The place she needed new and fresh was her mind, and this surprisingly provided that.
Thank you, Delbert Treach!
She put clean sheets on the bed, unpacked her two bags, unloaded a few groceries, and figured she had a pretty good place to call home for now.
J.J. had a million emails and decisions to make if she was going to get the house sold and the salon open. She’d barely be here, but when she was, it would be perfect. She fell asleep to the sound of the water lapping near the dock and a bird she couldn’t identify singing as the sun went down.
The next morning, J.J. got up early and was about to head to town. She’d brewed a quick pot in the ancient but serviceable Mr. Coffee machine on the counter. She’d forgotten to buy coffee filters, but as with most vacation rentals, there were countless opened packs in the cabinet. Every renter buys one and leaves it. They may have marred the lake with their bubbler, but J.J. appreciated the filter this morning.
There were a million decisions to make on the salon and on her house sale. She was about to head out the door when she glanced out the windows that made up the entire west wall. J.J. stopped. The scene pulled her away from the busy day ahead, from the errands, from the to-do list.
“Well, take a look at that,” she said.
The sun crested over Lake Manitou, just beginning its ascent, really. J.J. opened the back door and found herself closer and closer to the water. She didn’t mean to go to the water’s edge. It pulled her gently forward.
She walked out on the dock, all the way to the end. The surface of the lake was still and like glass. It reflected the brilliant orange sun. There were a few clouds, and they, too, were glowing peach. There didn’t even seem to be a ripple on the water.
J.J. had watched the sun on the beach many times since she’d run from Irish Hills. She’d seen it from Connecticut to the Gulf of Mexico. It was beautiful in all places, but today, it stopped her. It filled her up. It calmed her down. And it felt familiar and new at the same time. She used to gaze at this very water as a girl, as a teen, but not as much as a grown woman. She’d run away to do that.
The water, the wet sand of the shore, and the spring grass, still shaking off the winter frost, all told her where she was. Her feet walked confidently but carefully along the dock. A newbie she was not, and a newbie could likely get splinters on this rickety old thing.
She’d called this lake home for her entire life. Yet she’d reserved her time here for weekends and summers. Life was too busy in between those moments.
The sand was different in Michigan from the sand she’d just left in Florida. It was cold right now, but it was softer. It was more like clay here, less like sugar. But this earth felt a part of her. The hot sand and exotic salt air down south were not. Irish Hills was in her blood, no doubt.
J.J. raised the coffee mug to her lips and took a sip. As she did, her gaze shifted, attracted by a couple of swans swimming around ten feet off the dock across the glassy water toward her. They honked at her. Rude really.
“Well, hello there. I don’t have anything for you this morning. But meet ya here tomorrow morning, and I promise to bring you a little snack.”
They seemed to listen but then continued on.
J.J. took a breath. For a moment, she wasn’t in a hurry to get something done or in a rush to block out the past. She was just there, on the dock, as the sun rose over the lake. It was a strange sensation, being there, fully there.
It was chilly, though, this spring dawn. She would remember a sweater tomorrow. And if the swans passed by, she’d have a treat for them.
J.J. turned and walked back to the house. She switched off the coffee pot, locked up Treach’s place, and headed into town.
* * *
She had threatened D.J. with a haircut, so he had promised to meet her at the salon before her meetings and his construction work for Libby.
She waited for a while, but no D.J.
