These were the hard facts of life, but not information she was ready to dispense to her optimistic son ... not yet. In the case of their Seaside visit, what he did not know would not hurt him. Let him enjoy a blissful break for another week or so. The harsh wakeup call of cold reality would come soon enough. She had no choice—the beach cottage had to be sold. And despite Jackson’s dreams of Christmas by the sea, they would be long gone by then.
four
WENDY FELTstrangely energized the next morning, waking up even before the sun rose. She couldn’t remember when she’d slept so soundly. It was partly the result of exhaustion from the long days of driving and lousy nights in roadside motels, but it was also due to the ocean’s surf. She’d always loved the comforting sound that used to lull her to sleep as a child—so much so that she often slept with her bedroom window open so she could hear it even better. Of course, that had been in the summertime. No one in their right mind would want windows open right now.
She shivered as she turned on the bedroom wall heater. Then, with bare feet, she hurried to the living room, cranking that heater up too. Poppa’s insulation efforts and the installation of several wall heaters helped, but the cottage didn’t have central heating—and she’d forgotten Mrs. Campbell’s reminder to turn the heaters back on last night.
She was soon dressed and making a pot of coffee. She smiled as she poured water into the coffee maker—the same machine she’d sent Poppa for Christmas nearly fifteen years ago. It had been a duplicate wedding gift, but knowing how much Poppa loved a good cup of coffee, she knew he’d appreciate the regift. And judging by the brown-stained carafe—before she scrubbed it out—it’d been well used.
She was just cracking eggs into a bowl when Jackson came into the kitchen. Completely dressed, he looked bright and cheerful. “Want me to make another fire to warm it up some?” he asked.
She tried not to look overly doubtful. “Think you know how?”
“Yeah, I just did some research. It looks easy.”
“Great. I forgot to turn the heaters on before we went to bed. I hope you didn’t get too cold.”
“Nah, I was fine. It’s a lot warmer up there than down here.”
She nodded, remembering that heat rises. “We’ll have to check the wood supply today. There’s a woodshed out back, but I’m not sure Poppa kept it stocked in recent years. We might need to pace ourselves with our fires.”
By the time breakfast was ready, Jackson had a small fire going. “I’m impressed,” she told him as they sat next to it to eat. “I had no idea you were such a Boy Scout.”
“I just did like I saw on YouTube. The trick is dry fuel and good air flow.” He explained the process in detail. “And I looked inside the woodshed, Mom. It was pretty full.”
“Great. We’ll have a fire every night.”
“Won’t we want to ration it some—to make it all the way through winter?”
She pursed her lips. As much as she hated to rain on his parade, she didn’t want him being deluded. “I never promised we’d stay here all winter, Jackson. You know that I need—”
“But you didn’t know how great it would be here. You were being all Negative Nellie. This place is awesome.”
“Yes, but we have to—”
“Come on, Mom. Let’s just enjoy it, okay?” His expression was so hopeful that she couldn’t bear to set him straight. If Jackson wanted to live in denial for a while, why spoil it with an argument? Reality would come soon enough. Why not enjoy the moment while it lasted?
“It’s a nice clear day,” Jackson said as they finished eating. “But it’s pretty chilly out there.”
“Still want to go beachcombing?” she asked as they carried their dishes to the kitchen.
“Absolutely.” He set his plate in the sink. “Is it all right if I do these dishes when we get back? I know it’s my turn.”
“That’s fine. I’ll get my coat and my phone. It’s too early to call a handyman now, but I can call from down there.”
“Do you think it’s okay if I wear the boots I found on the back porch? They look like my size.”
“They must’ve been Poppa’s. I’m sure he’d love for you to have them.”
Before long, they were out on the beach with their gathering buckets. It was nearly nine when she called Mrs. Campbell’s handyman Gordon, but she was able only to leave a message. They walked for another hour or so, but found only a handful of shells—and nothing very impressive. “Shell finding is always better after a storm,” she told Jackson as they paused to look out over the water. “It was one reason I never minded when we had a summer storm.”
“Is that how your grandparents found all their cool stuff?”
“I’m sure storms helped, but it was also their daily diligence to—” She paused when she heard her phone jingling. “That’s probably the handyman.” She eagerly answered.
“I got your message, Mrs. Harper,” Gordon said in a slow Maine drawl. “I can come on out there first thing this morning if you like.”
“That’d be great.” She briefly described the condition of the bathroom floor.
