“Truth be told, I had help.” Mrs. Campbell linked arms with Wendy, walking up to the front porch with her. “My brother Harvey lives with me. He made the fire.”
“Thank you both! But how did you know we were coming today?”
“Your grandpa’s lawyer phoned me last week.” She glumly shook her head. “I was so sad to hear about his passing last summer. So sorry for your loss, dear.”
“Thank you.”
“Anyhow, the lawyer knew all about me and how your grandpa paid me to look after the house in the off-season. I told him I’d hide my key for you.” She pointed to a flowerpot by the door. “It’s right there.”
Wendy extracted the key, slipping it into the lock.
“Anyhow, we expected you here on Saturday, so Harvey made a fire that morning and I got a few things ready for you, but then you didn’t show. So he made another fire yesterday—and then today.”
“I told the attorney we were leaving on Saturday so he probably assumed we were flying, but I drove. Anyway, it was so kind of you to do that!” Wendy peered at the old woman’s face in the porch light, trying to determine her age. Certainly, not a hundred, but she had to be in her late eighties.
“Good thing too. Place was cold as ice on Saturday. Took two days just to get the chill off, but it oughta stay nice for you. Especially since your grandpa got it insulated a few years ago. I just turned the heaters off—didn’t want to waste electricity since the place was already warm—but you might want to put them back on before you go to bed. And I got Harvey to turn on the water for you too.” She waited for Wendy to open the front door. “Sorry I didn’t get fresh linens on the beds. My arthritis has troubled me something fierce these past few winters. But I did stock you some provisions in the fridge. Not much, mind you, but some of my homemade huckleberry jam and a few other goodies.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Wendy hugged her again. “You’re the best, Mrs. Campbell.”
“I s’pect it was a long trip for you.” She nodded with satisfaction. “I just wanted you to feel welcome.”
“That was so kind.” Wendy glanced around the living room to see the same worn plaid sofa, Gammi’s antique oak rocker, Poppa’s old leather recliner, and numerous other pieces. But the walls looked different. Instead of the old panels of dark wood with exposed studs, they were covered in unpainted beaded board. “Looks like some improvements have been made.”
“Your grandpa’d been fixing the place up some these past few years.” Mrs. Campbell sadly shook her head. “I s’pect he knew he wasn’t long for this world and wanted to make it nicer for you and your boy.” She led Wendy through the house, pointing out various improvements.
“Looks like he thinned a few things out too,” Wendy observed. “Not quite as much clutter as I remember.” She picked up a conch shell. “But I’m relieved to see that the shells are still here.”
“Your grandpa turned that upstairs spare bedroom into a storage room,” Mrs. Campbell told her. “I’m afraid it will be a bear to clean out.”
“That’s okay. I expected to find a ton of work here. I’m pleasantly surprised it’s not far worse.”
“Well, don’t fool yourself. There’s still plenty to do. Harvey claims your bathroom floor is spongy. Hope your toilet don’t fall through.” She shook a warning finger at her. “You just walk softly and call yourself a handyman in the morning. I left a business card from the fellow who used to do work for me before Harvey came to help. I highly recommend Gordon. He’s a good man and being it’s wintertime he shouldn’t be too busy.”
They visited a bit longer. Then, seeing the sky was getting dark, Wendy escorted her elderly neighbor down the porch steps and across the driveway. “Thank you again for all your help.” She glanced at her slippers. “Do you need me to walk you back to—”
“Land sakes, no. I’m just fine on my own.”
Wendy told her good night. Then, relieved to see her son sprinting up the beach trail, she started to extract a box from the back of the car.
“Let me unload the car, Mom,” Jackson said breathlessly.
She stepped back, using the car’s light to take in his windblown hair, flushed cheeks, and happy smile. Besides looking almost grown, he wasn’t the same boy from back in Ohio. “But I can carry some—”
“I can do it, Mom.” He flexed a bicep then reached across her to get the box, setting it down on the driveway. “Just let me.”
“So how was the beach?” She watched as he loosened up some of the other things, acting like he had this under control.
“Awesome! I can’t wait to see it in the daylight. I need to check the tide table.”
“This one’s mine.” She reached for her overnight bag, tugging it out. “I’ll take it inside.”
“Okay, but only that one,” he warned. “I’ll get the rest of this.”
“But there’s so much—”
“Just go inside, Mom. Give yourself a break.”
“But I—”
