“Oh, that’s structural.”
“Structural.”
“Yes.”
She points upward.
“I thought I might need it for the gutters.”
I follow her finger to the ceiling.
“You can’t reach the gutters from inside.”
“Well, obviously I know that now.”
I nod slowly. She watches me like she’s waiting for judgment. I don’t give her any. Instead I walk toward the back hallway where a narrow door sits under the slope of the roof.
“Attic access?” I ask.
She sighs.
“Yes.” Then she adds quickly, “But before you open that, I should probably warn you.”
“About what?”
She hesitates.
“Dust.”
I pull the door open. The attic ladder drops down with a creak. Rainey winces.
“Okay,” she says. “Also possibly spiders.”
I glance at her.
“You bought a mountain cabin.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to have spiders.”
She sighs again.
“I was hoping they’d be seasonal.”
I start climbing the ladder.
“Stay down there.”
She crosses her arms.
“I wasn’t planning on joining you.”
The attic smells like dry wood and insulation. I shine my phone light across the rafters and check the underside of the roof. Shingles are old but the decking looks solid. No sagging or rot. That’s good news. I climb back down and step into the room again. Rainey is pacing.
“Well?” she demands.
I brush some dust from my hands.
