The Long Way Home (7 page)

She tucked thoughts of her mother aside and tried to focus on what he was saying. She stared at the old building and said, “Do you think maybe it should be taken down?”

“Are you crazy?” He turned and glared at her. “That’s a historic structure. That carriage house was built by the first lighthouse keeper when the lighthouse was built. You can’t just take it down.”

His vehemence blasted her back a step or two.

“Sorry. I had no idea this was sacred ground,” she said, no extra charge for the small amount of sarcasm.

“You can’t destroy something just because it’s inconvenient or shabby.”

“Okay, I get it. Really. I do. I’ve apologized. The lighthouse you’re referring to was out on that spit of land behind the trees?”

He nodded. “It was built in the early 1800s. Burned down twice and rebuilt each time. It came down for good in a hurricane in the 1940s.”

“But the remnants are still there,” she noted.

“Mostly just the old stone base, which no one’s had the heart to haul away. Technically, I guess it belongs to you.”

“The town doesn’t own it?”

“I think if you check your deed, you’ll see that that piece of ground is part of this tract. So yeah, it would belong to you now.”

“Wow. That’s …” She sought a word. When nothing better came, she said, “That’s very cool.”

“There used to be a dock there, too. It jutted out pretty far into the Bay, since the water is so shallow close to the beach.”

“A lighthouse and a dock. How ’bout that?” She couldn’t help but smile. It all sounded so … 
romantic
somehow.

“So anyway, you’re going to want to do something to shore up that carriage house, or make sure whoever you sell the place to understands its significance.”

“Is there a historical register here? A historical society?” Hadn’t she seen a sign somewhere for a historic district?

“Yes.” He nodded. “Someone there can probably give you whatever information you’re looking for.”

“If it’s all that historic, wouldn’t it already
be
on the register?”

“Maybe. Probably.” He started toward the house. “Let’s take a look inside and see what she needs in there.”

Ellie hustled to keep up with his much longer legs. “I’ve been spending most of my time cleaning but I still have a long way to go.” She reached the back steps a second or two after he did. He stepped aside to permit her to take the stairs first.

“There was some sort of security system installed at one time.” She pointed to the control panel on the wall in the back hall. “It’s not working, though. Jesse said it was disconnected a few years ago.”

“Kept blowing fuses. The whole place needs to be rewired, brought up to code, given a little more juice.”

“Great,” she muttered.

“Beck keeps an eye on things, though, so you don’t need to worry about break-ins.”

“Beck’s the police chief.” She nodded, remembering his visit several nights ago when a neighbor had seen lights on, and suspecting a burglary in progress, called 911. “He said a patrol car passes by the house a couple of times throughout the night.”

“Has been for years. Miss Lilly was a popular lady in St. Dennis. There’s never been a problem here, as far as I know.”

“So this is the kitchen.” She stated the obvious as they entered the big square room.

“Where to start in here? New floor, new counter-tops, new cabinets, new—”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Unless something crazy happens—like I win the lottery—it’s getting paint on the walls and the cabinets, and that’s about all. Maybe a new floor if I can swing it, which frankly I’d love to do because that color is beyond heinous and I can barely stand to look at it.”

Cam nodded and they moved into the butler’s pantry.

“Likewise in here. Paint. A new light fixture would be great but it’s not in the budget.” She pointed to the floor. “More of the same from the kitchen. It’s like it seeped under the door.” She pretended to shiver.

Cam knelt down, opened one of the cabinet doors, and poked around on the floor for a moment with a penknife he’d taken from his pocket.

“What are you doing?” she asked

“Just looking at the floor in here. Unless I’m mistaken, there’s wood under the linoleum.”

“Wood?” Her eyes widened hopefully at the thought. “Nice wood?”

Cam nodded. “Looks like heart pine to me. Very ‘in’ right now.”

“Could I rip up the floor in here to find out?” She bit the inside of her cheek for a moment. “And if it’s pine in here, might it be pine in the kitchen as well?”

“No guarantees, because I can’t see through the linoleum, but that would be my guess.”

“I’m definitely adding ‘rip up kitchen and pantry floors’ to my list of things to do.”

“How ’bout you let me know before you start? There might be some old glue on the wood, and you’re going to need to remove that very carefully.”

“You know how to do that? You’d show me?”

“Sure.” A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“Great. Thanks.” She made a mental note to call Jesse and thank him for sending Cameron over. He moved through the swinging door into the dining room and she went along with him.

“The wallpaper in here should come down.” He turned to her. “Have you ever removed wallpaper before?”

“I was planning on just painting over it. Taking it down would be so messy.”

Cam shook his head. “Painting over it is only going to make a bigger mess in the long run. The paper’s
loose in places and I see there’s some old water damage up in that far right corner. See where it’s stained?” He pointed to the wall. “It’s all going to have to come down, Ellie.”

“So I’ll get a scraper and scrape away. It’ll give me something to do over the winter.”

“You’re going to have to spray the paper with water to loosen the old glue before you scrape. And it’s going to make a really big mess. You’re going to need to put tarps down on the floor or all those little sticky scraps of paper will be a real pain to pick up.”

“I have to do that in every room?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Ellie’s earlier enthusiasm was beginning to wane.

“I can loan you a ladder. And the sprayer, a tarp, and a scraper when the time comes.”

“Thanks,” she said more weakly than she’d intended.

He grinned and led the way across the hall to the living room.

“I always liked this room,” he said admiringly.

“I’m growing quite fond of it myself. I sit in here and read at night.” She gestured to the wall of bookshelves. “As you can see, there’s plenty of reading material to be had.”

He nodded, and for a moment, Ellie thought he was going to speak. When he did not, she added, “No TV, of course.”

“You probably have some sort of electronic device you can watch TV or movies on.”

“I do, but it’s not the same somehow as a nice big screen. Besides, there’s nothing that I watch on a regular basis and
must
see.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m
finding myself so tired by ten o’clock it’s an exercise just to get myself up the steps.”

“Not used to all the physical work?”

“Not by a long shot.”

“What did you do in New York, before you came here?” Cam asked.

Ellie paused before replying. “I worked in public relations.”

“Let me guess. You lost your job due to a corporate downsizing.”

“Something like that.”

“Yeah, I heard there was a lot of that going around.” She could feel his gaze on her face but couldn’t look at him. Her job was the last thing she wanted to talk about. Well, almost the last thing.

“Did you like your job?” he asked. “Were you good at it?”

“Yes, to both.”

“I figured. You don’t strike me as the type of person who’d do something you didn’t enjoy, at least not for too long. And I suspect you’d be very good at anything you decided to do.”

She tilted her head to one side, and he recognized the question in the gesture.

“Just judging by the job you’re taking on here.” His hand waved around the room to take it in. “All the furniture’s been uncovered and it looks like it’s been vacuumed. Everything’s been dusted and cleaned. It’s been a long time since this place looked like someone lived here.” He glanced at the fireplace, then did a double take. “And you found Ted Cavanaugh’s decoys. Damn, it’s been years since I’ve seen these things.” He
picked one up to admire it. “They weren’t here last time I was in. Where’d you find these?”

“They were in a closet in the kitchen wrapped in newspaper.” She paused. “Wait. Did you say the last time you were in here? Does that mean you have a key?”

“Actually, I do have a key.” He glanced over his shoulder, the duck decoy still in his hand. “I have one, Jesse has one. But I’ll be glad to drop mine off in the morning so you don’t have to worry I’ll come in during the night to rob you blind. Or something else more sinister.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think that of you.”

“You don’t know me.” He replaced the duck on the mantel and picked up a different one. “Not that I’m inclined to do such things, but since I’m a stranger to you, you shouldn’t be so trusting.”

“Jesse sent you, though …”

“Do you know that for sure?” He turned to her. “Did you call him? Ask to see some sort of ID?”

She felt the blood drain from her head. She’d always been so cautious, and yet here she was, allowing a stranger into her house, one whose identity she’d not even questioned.

“I’m harmless, and I really am Cam O’Connor.” He pointed out the window. “See? Name’s right there on the truck. And now that I’ve spooked you—don’t try to deny it, you’re white as one of the sheets Miss Lilly used to cover her furniture with in the summer—I’m happy to show you my driver’s license and you can call Jesse.”

She peered out the window to the truck and saw that it did, indeed, have
CAMERON O’CONNOR, GENERAL
CONTRACTOR
, painted on the passenger side door.

She exhaled. “I don’t need to call Jesse.”

He put the duck back. “I’d still ask to see the ID if I were you.”

She put out her hand and waited while he took out his wallet and held up his driver’s license.

“Thank you. I never thought to ask. I just figured … well, this is such a small sleepy town, and who else would know I was here and that Jesse said he’d be sending you over …” she rambled.

“By now, pretty much everyone knows you’re here. And by the way, small sleepy towns have their share of crime, too. Even St. Dennis.”

“What, stolen bikes, graffiti on the sidewalks, cars being egged on Mischief Night?”

“A couple of years back, a guy who lived in town was abducting, raping, and killing young women. His wife was one of the town’s police officers. He killed her, too.”

“Are you making that up just to scare me?”

He shook his head. “It really happened. The point’s not to scare you as much as to remind you to be careful. When you’re new in town, especially a town like St. Dennis, it’s easy to trust everyone because everyone is so friendly. All I’m saying is, be careful.”

“Message received.”

“Good.” He went back to checking out the duck decoys. “These are just perfect.”

“They are pretty, aren’t they?” Ellie walked closer. “They look hand-carved.”

“Oh, they are,” he replied. “Miss Lilly’s husband carved them. Ted Cavanaugh was a legend around
here, won all sorts of awards for his decoys.” He turned over the duck he was holding. “See? TJC. Ted—I forget his middle name—Cavanaugh; 1943. This one’s a mallard. This one over here—” He picked up another and put the mallard down. “This is a ruddy duck. This one …” He pointed to a third. “This one’s a pintail.”

“How do you know all that?”

“I grew up on the Bay.” He shrugged as if that was explanation enough, and perhaps it was. “If you decide you want to sell them, I’d appreciate first dibs. I know they’re worth a lot of money. I’m not sure how much, but there’s a museum down in Salisbury that might be able to help figure it out. And Nita Perry—she owns Past Times, one of the antiques shops in town—probably has a handle on what they’re worth. She’s been in St. Dennis forever.” Cam smiled. “But if you contact the museum, don’t let them talk you into handing the ducks over. I know they already have a few Ted Cavanaughs and I’m sure they’d be happy to have a few more.”

“I promise I won’t do anything with them without letting you know first.”
And certainly not before six months have expired
.

“Say, have you thought about selling the house as is, before you put any work into it? Could be you’d save a lot of time and money.”

“I hadn’t thought about that, no.” Actually, she had, but she needed to do some fixing up for her own sake, since she’d be living there for at least six months and she’d go crazy from the dust and depressing decor. Besides, what else would she do for the next hundred and eighty days?

“You might want to give it some thought. I’d be interested myself.” To Ellie’s eye, he appeared to be trying too hard to be nonchalant. “Would you think about it and let me know?”

“Sure.”
As if she could sell it now anyway
.

“Thanks.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m going to have to head out. I have an appointment with a customer at five.” He reached into his pocket for his wallet. “Here’s my card. If there’s anything I can do to help you, call me, even if it’s just a question you have about something. When you’re ready to start on that wallpaper, or if you need a ladder, or you want to work on that linoleum—or you decide to chuck it all and sell it now—give me a call.”

“I will. Thanks.” She walked him to the door. “I’m sorry I can’t afford to hire you to do what I can do myself, but I appreciate the tips you’ve given me.”

“If you really want to do some of the work before you sell it, maybe we can work out some sort of arrangement for the tough stuff. Like a barter.” He stood in the doorway, looking down at her with dark blue eyes, and for a brief moment, she was afraid to ask what kind of barter he had in mind.

Cam must have read her expression, because he laughed out loud. “Not that kind of barter.” He pointed past her to the mantel, where the ducks were lined up at an angle. “That kind of barter.”