It wasn’t until the third day that Andie got the nerve to approach Emily about the attic. They’d worked through the living room, dining room, and library for the first phase of sorting out the items that Emily didn’t mind sending to auction.
Frank had been there and set up the tent for the auction already, and they were putting in long days to make their way through as much as possible.
Andie had sifted through elaborate chased silver flatware, admired antique Depression-glass platters, and inspected dozens of handmade linens and doilies. All very nice items but no important discoveries. Oddly, Andie didn’t mind. It was fun looking through the items, and each day Emily seemed to thaw a little toward her.
Emily had been suspicious about how much Andie was going to charge for all of this, but when Andie said she simply wanted first dibs on some of the better pieces, for which she would pay fairly but with enough room to make a good profit, Emily had started to come around. Andie suspected the slow change in attitude might have had something to do with Rita and some of the ladies at Tall Pines vouching for her over and over again.
Emily had even offered her coffee and banana bread in the old-fashioned kitchen with its giant fireplace, and the two of them were settling into a routine that was almost friendly.
She was spending a lot of hours on the job, but from what she’d seen she’d be able to make good money from the choice pieces. She’d have no trouble selling them and had already lined up a buyer for a tiger maple bureau that was two hundred years old but in pristine condition and a set of Limoges china, also pristine. She wasn’t worried about the money, and she was having fun. Perhaps she’d set up a little service doing estate clean-outs after she was done. It felt good to help people.
“I think maybe we should look around in the attic next,” Andie said once they’d moved the last of the items slated for the auction into the living room. They’d decided to stage those items in there and then work from that pile to set them out on tables on the porch and under the tent for the auction-goers to preview.
Emily made a face. “I think it’s all old junk up there. Castoffs. No one has even been up in decades. Plus, it’s sweltering.”
It sounded perfect to Andie. In her experience all the best stuff could be found in attics and basements that everyone thought were filled with junk and where no one had been in decades.
Ten minutes later, Andie discovered that Emily hadn’t been exaggerating. The attic was sweltering, and it was also packed to the brim. There was no way they could get to all of it, so Andie decided to come up with a plan that included starting in the way back, as that was where she assumed the oldest things would be.
They made a path by moving old boxes and shoving broken dressers and chairs aside.
“I don’t think my ancestors threw anything out,” Emily said as she put an old rocker against the wall. The caning on the seat had broken and was hanging down.
“Their trash is our treasure.” Andie opened an old steamer trunk that sat under a window. Dust flew up and swirled in the sunlight. Emily sneezed.
Inside the trunk was an old dress made from a mile of fabric. It had once been black but had faded to brown with age. The fabric felt stiff and crackly as Andie carefully lifted it out.
“Imagine wearing this thing.” Andie wiped sweat from her forehead with her arm and then held the dress up.
“I’m practically fainting thinking about it.” Emily pulled an old quilt out of the dome-top trunk she’d opened. “There are a lot of quilts here. They look homemade.”
Andie could tell by the small, tight stitches that they were. She’d seen thousands of quilts over her career, but they usually followed one of a dozen or so patterns. There was something unusual about these.
“These are quite old.” The material practically disintegrated in her fingers. Moths had eaten a few spots. Andie could tell they had at least a hundred years on them, but the condition wasn’t too bad for the age.
One of the benefits of being a top appraiser for decades was that she had a lot of contacts, so she snapped a few pictures of the quilts and sent them off to Susan Walker, an antique textile expert she’d worked with before.
Hammering noises had been drifting up into the attic for several minutes now, signaling that Sally had arrived. “I think Sally is working on the steps now, and I’m ready for a break.”
Emily straightened from bending over a box of glassware. Her face was red and shiny with perspiration. Her silver-streaked brown hair stuck out in various directions from where she’d clipped it back. “Good idea. I’ll make some lemonade.”
They struggled down the narrow stairs with the boxes of items they’d picked for the sale. Andie ran back up for another box while Emily made lemonade.
Andie poured a glass for Sally and one for herself and put them on a tray. Using her hip to open the screen door, she backed out onto the porch.
“Hey, Sal, I brought you some—”
She turned around and almost dropped the tray. She’d expected to see Sally crouching down repairing the steps. Instead she found herself staring down at Shane.
So that was why Sally had asked him to take this job, Shane thought as he helped Andie steady the tray. He was relieved because he’d been worried when Sally had said she wasn’t feeling up to it. He knew from experience that there wasn’t anything that Sally wasn’t up to doing. Even a little matchmaking. He had a sneaking suspicion his aunt Mary had something to do with this. Not that he minded an excuse to run into Andie.
She looked confused, maybe a little vulnerable. Like the girl he used to know. Not the adult Andie, who seemed somewhat stiff and aloof.
Her navy-blue T-shirt was covered in dust. Her silky dark hair cascaded from a clip atop her head. Her face was flushed, and the angle of the sun turned her hazel eyes golden, bringing up long-buried memories of lazy days on the beach in their teenage years. Those were happy memories, even if they were tinged with the pain of how abruptly she’d raced out of town right after turning down his proposal.
Was that old Andie in there still? He hoped so. The years tended to change people though, and he wondered if Andie had changed enough to really want to stay in Lobster Bay or if she’d bolt again like she had last time.
“Is something wrong with Sally?” Andie’s eyes brimmed with concern.
“She said her bursitis was acting up.” Shane sipped the lemonade. It was cool and sweet.
“She has bursitis? I didn’t think there was an ailment that would dare mess with her.”
Shane laughed. “No kidding. I’m sure she’ll show it who is boss.” He gestured to the stairs, where he was replacing several rotted boards with new wood. “I figure these three need replacing, and then it looks like the railing might need some work too.”
Andie bent over to look, and a whiff of her vanilla-scented shampoo brought on more memories. “It’s all rotted at the bottom. Maybe we should replace the entire thing.”
“That’s what I would recommend.” Ice cubes clinked, and the side of the glass was slick with condensation as Shane took another sip.
“I’ll talk to the owner.”
Shane expected Andie to go back inside, but instead she came down the steps to stand next to him. She looked back up at the porch. “Is there anything else? We’re going to set some of the items up on the porch for the preview, and I don’t want any trouble with the inspector.”
“Inspector?”
“Yeah, they’re coming at one thirty, so if there’s anything else…” Andie looked up at him, and her trust in his judgement made his heart swell.
“The rest of it looks safe. Needs paint, but that’s not unsafe. I’ll try to get these steps done quickly.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, as long as we show that we are doing it. It’s not like a regular building inspection, just for the event occupancy permit for the auction.”
Shane picked up his hammer. He really should get back to work, but he wanted to stand here talking to Andie. “It must be full of antiques in there.” He nodded toward the house.
“Crammed. I don’t think they ever threw anything out.”
“Did you find any secret passageways? I’ve heard rumors.”
Andie laughed. “Not yet, but you never know. I’m just trying to help them out and maybe pick up a few things for my shop.”
“The shop looks great.” Shane fiddled with the hammer, trying to think up interesting things to say and refrain from blurting out something about her running off again.
“Thanks.” Andie sipped her lemonade. “So, you’re settling in since the navy, I guess.”
“Yeah. That was a few years ago, and my son is here and Caleb, so that makes it nice.” Thoughts of his grandson, Caleb, made Shane smile.
“It is nice to be back,” Andie said. “It’s changed a lot but stayed the same too.”
“I know what you mean. The old places we used to hang around are still there and some of the old shops, but new ones like the bread store have come in.”
“The best part of the town never changes, thankfully.” Andie gestured toward the ocean, where the white sails of a sailboat bobbed amidst cobalt-blue seas.
“Remember all the bonfires we used to have down there as kids?”
Shane’s question brought a smile to Andie’s face. “Yes! How about the time that we got Steve’s brother to buy beer for us and we all lost track of time?”
“You got home late, and your mom was waiting on the porch!”
“I got grounded for a week, and I only had one beer.” Andie laughed. “Those were good times, though.”
“Sure were. Simpler times.” Shane grabbed the hammer. He really should get back to work, but all he wanted to do was stand here with the sun warming his shoulders and a cool drink in his hand and talk with Andie. Judging by the way she was lingering, Shane hoped that maybe she felt the same.
Her stomach grumbled loudly, and she looked down.
Before he even knew the words were coming out of his mouth, Shane said, “Guess it’s lunch time. I’m about to head down to the Clam Shack. You want to join me?”