happy,” Michael lies as Jordana pushes him back on the bed and climbs on top of him, and then he stops thinking about anything at all.
“I feel so nervous,” Nan says with a laugh, pulling off the gardening gloves and sitting down on the bench in the kitchen garden, taking a packet of cigarettes from the trug at her feet. Sarah has finally managed to rid the house of the smell of smoke and is refusing to let Nan smoke anywhere other than outside.
“Why?” Sarah looks up from where she is helping Nan plant out the rest of the garden, a handful of seeds in her hand.
“I know it’s ridiculous—how could he not love Windermere? But I feel like I’m being interviewed, and what if he doesn’t like us?”
“You said you liked him on the phone, so that’s a good start, isn’t it?”
“That’s true. He sounds terribly sweet. Unhappy but sensitive. A good first tenant, I should think.”
“Do you know anything about him?”
“He said his wife and children were spending their holiday up on Quidnet, and he wanted something small and inexpensive on the island so he could be close.”
“He wants it for the rest of the summer? That’s a good start.”
“He said he’d be back and forth a bit, but he’d love a room for the whole of August, and obviously he’ll pay for everything in advance.”
“So when does he get here?”
“Around three. Oh I do so hope he likes us.” Nan stubs out her cigarette with her foot and pulls her gardening gloves back on. “Now, where do you suppose is the best place for me to stake these tomatoes? They’re so overgrown, I wish I’d cut them back earlier.”
If it is possible to gain a new lease on life after three weeks of scrubbing, painting, plastering, hammering, staining and sewing, then a new lease on life is exactly what Nan has got.
She has had no time to swim in neighbors’ pools, although the summer crowd is now firmly ensconced and Nan knows better than to risk getting caught, and she has had little time to cycle around town on her bike.
Other women might be exhausted at her age, having worked the way she has worked to get the house in shape, but Nan feels alive again. She knew as soon as Daniel phoned that he would be perfect for the house, and hopes the house is perfect for him.
For the first time in years, Nan feels like giving parties again. She is well aware of her reputation as something of a recluse, for even though she is out and about in town all the time, it is rare for people to come up to the house, and the truth is she hasn’t felt like entertaining these past few years.
But now, walking around her house that is so fresh and clean it feels almost new, cycling up her driveway that she and Sarah tackled with gallons of Roundup so the crushed white clam shells are no longer hidden by the copious weeds, she wants to show it off.
She wants Windermere to be the house she remembers of old.
“Sarah!” she shouts, gazing at the big old maple tree in the garden. “Do you think it’s possible to get fairy lights this time of year?”
Sarah puts her trowel down and walks over to where Nan is standing. “I think anything is possible in the age of the computer. Why? What are you thinking?”
“I’m remembering the parties we used to have. Lydia, my mother-in-law, used to string little white fairy lights through the branches of this maple tree. We’d string lanterns overhead and it was like dancing under a thousand moons.”
Sarah starts laughing. “Good heavens, Nan. Are you planning a party already?”
“I don’t know,” Nan says. “But I was remembering how beautiful it used to be. I’d like to see it look like that again. I’d like to see this place come alive.”
Michael looks up wearily as the door to his workshop opens. It used to be that he was left on his own in here for days at a time. He loved the solitude, loved the silence. Creating jewelry was like a meditation for him—he didn’t have to think, he just felt his mind settle into a peace that enabled him to tap into his deepest creative well.
These last few weeks Jordana has changed that. She is in and out all day long, and while he welcomed the activity in the beginning—it was exciting, invigorating, energizing—now he longs for the