Jess
The next morning, Jess drank her coffee while she watched the sunrise send ribbons of pink and amber across the water.
California was most known for its sunsets, of course, the sun’s nightly slide into the Pacific, but she was particularly fond of the sunrises. They might not hold the same drama as the sunsets, but she loved the way the morning light played on the water.
She tidied up her trailer, which took all of about three minutes, then grabbed her supplies and headed up to Whitaker House.
Eleanor answered the door only a few seconds after she rang the bell. Her features wore the peculiar mix of excitement and trepidation Jess was accustomed to seeing in her clients.
“Good morning. Can I get you some breakfast?”
“I’ve already eaten, thanks. I’m all ready to go.”
“Are you sure? I made blueberry muffins this morning.”
That did sound—and smell—delicious. Still, Jess shook her head. “No thank you. Maybe we could save them for a midday snack.”
“Right.”
“Should we take a look around the house so we can see where we want to start?”
“Yes. That would probably be best. What do you want to see first?”
“We can start here and then work our way through the house.”
This was always the most tense part of every job, when the client teetered on the edge of uncertainty and the wrong move by Jess could send them tumbling down the wrong side.
It was a delicate dance. Sometimes when she came into a job, it was inevitable that her clients would be moving, like when health problems required a different living situation.
Sometimes it was voluntary, when clients wanted to downsize in their golden years.
Eleanor’s case was a little tricky. She seemed to want to only clean out her house so that her son wouldn’t have to do the job after she died.
After her initial hesitancy, Eleanor entered into the tour with enthusiasm, showing Jess behind closed doors of the house.
“There are seven bedrooms in total, right?” she asked, after they had seen three.
“Yes, counting the master. I told you things were a real mess. I’m embarrassed that I let the clutter take over and get to this point.”
“I have been at this for five years, Eleanor,” she said gently. “Please believe me when I tell you Whitaker House is nothing compared to most of the jobs I’ve done.”
Eleanor seemed heartened by that information. “Jack didn’t like to throw things away. He wasn’t a hoarder by any means. I don’t want you to think that. But while his family had this lovely house, his parents were cash poor when he was growing up. Jack liked to reuse and recycle where he could. After he died, well, I honestly didn’t know where to start so it was easier not to do anything.”
“I totally understand. That’s not at all an unusual reaction upon the loss of a loved one.”
“It’s been six months, though. I thought things might become somewhat easier as the months pass. Instead, the loss seems fresher every day.”
The pain in her voice made Jess’s throat tighten. She remembered going through that after her parents died. For the first few years, the pain seemed to get worse instead of better. The regret and guilt haunted her sleep and turned her angry and hard.
Finally, right around the time she had enlisted, the ache inside her began to fade. She couldn’t point to any single event that had turned things around. But one day she had woken up feeling as if a cloud had lifted, as if the sun seemed to be shining a little more brightly and the world seemed a little more beautiful.
She still had moments of raw grief sometimes.
Did Rachel?
They didn’t talk about their parents. It was like a huge, painful topic neither of them wanted to broach.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, laying a comforting hand on the other woman’s arm.
“Thank you.” Eleanor patted her hand, then seemed to push away the sadness.
“Are you comfortable helping me go through your husband’s things?” she asked when Eleanor led the way to an office space facing the water, the desk crowded with loose papers and the bookshelves overflowing.
“I don’t know.”
“I can do it on my own if you want.”
Eleanor didn’t seem to like that suggestion either so Jess offered one more. “If you would like, we can save this room until later and start working through some of the empty bedrooms first.”
“Let’s do that,” Eleanor said with alacrity. “That way I can have Nate go through one more time to make sure he takes any of his father’s effects he might still want. He was here last night but only went through quickly. I would like to give him another chance.”
They would have to get around to this man cave eventually but Jess could wait. “All right. Why don’t you show me the other bedrooms and we can pick one to start.”
“Perfect,” Eleanor said.
Whitaker House was truly lovely. Built into the hillside, it featured large, airy rooms and stunning woodwork. Most rooms opened up to views of either the ocean or the surrounding forest of redwoods and coastal pine.
Eleanor had described the house as cluttered and dark but Jess didn’t see that. She saw a structure that had provided a home for multiple generations, where each had left a mark.
She would have loved to wander through every room admiring both the view and the contents but knew their time was limited.
“How long has this house been in your husband’s family?”
“Since it was built. Jack’s great-grandfather came from banking money back East and wanted to make his mark in California. He was a haphazard rancher at best, from what I understand. By the time Jack and I married, much of the surrounding land had been sold off over the years, leaving just these two acres, the main house and a few run-down guesthouses.”
“I didn’t notice any run-down guesthouses.”
“We tore one down years ago because it couldn’t be saved and Nathaniel fixed up the other one after he came back home with Sophie. Basically he completely rebuilt it, saving only the bones. We had plenty of room for them here, of course, and he lived here when she was little. When she started school, he felt like it was important that the two of them have their own place. It’s a darling house. No more than a thousand square feet but he’s done a great job with it.”
Where was Sophie’s mother? She wanted to ask but didn’t want to be nosy. She was here to help clean out Whitaker House, not pry into the business of the inhabitants, no matter how intriguing she might find them.
“It’s nice that you know all this history about your husband’s family.”
“Oh, we can trace back generations. My late mother-in-law was obsessed with Whitaker genealogy. On my own side, I can’t keep track past the great-grandparents.”
Jess couldn’t trace her family even that far. She knew her father had been orphaned young and her mother had run away from home to marry him when she was seventeen. Neither had ever talked about their parents much.
Maybe Rachel knew more than she did. Her sister had always been interested in that sort of thing.
Eleanor opened a door at the end of the hall. “This was Nathaniel’s bedroom. Let’s leave this one for now, too, so he can go through it one more time himself. I think he’s taken most of the mementos he might have wanted. His surfboards, favorite books, that sort of thing. What’s left are things he probably doesn’t mind leaving behind.”
Jess stood inside the door, scanning the room to mentally catalog the work ahead of her. It smelled like him, an outdoorsy mix of soap and cedar. Which was completely irrelevant to anything.
“He’s a surfer?” she asked. There was a gorgeous framed photograph of a surfer on the wall across from the bed, the figure tiny as it made its way through a huge translucent green curl of water.
“Yes. That’s him in high school when he went to Hawaii with some friends. He never competed, only for fun, but he was good enough to be on the professional circuit, if you ask me. Of course, I’m his doting mother. What else am I going to say?”
Eleanor gave a rueful smile that Jess couldn’t help returning.
“In some parts of California, the schools have surf teams but Cape Sanctuary is too small for that and the surfing isn’t all that great. After high school, Nathaniel was torn between moving to Southern California to pursue professional surfing or joining the military after high school. The military won.”
She had suspected he was ex-military. It wasn’t any one thing she could pinpoint, more his general bearing.
Yet one more reason, if she needed it, to ignore her unfortunate attraction to the man. She had nothing against the military in general. She had given years of her life to the army, after all. In that time she had known mostly good, honorable men and women who worked hard to uphold the ideals of their particular branch of the military.
But she had also been sexually harassed more than once and had even physically fought off a sergeant who wouldn’t take no for an answer and thought his higher rank allowed him to touch whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted. She had defended herself with a well-placed knee and an even better-placed warning that the asshole needed to keep his hands to himself around her and any other female recruits or she would personally make sure he received a dishonorable discharge.
She had spent too much of her life being an unwilling victim to her father’s emotional abuse and complete dominance in their family to tolerate male hegemony in any form.
“It’s probably for the best if we have, er, Nathaniel help us clean this out.”
Eleanor chuckled. “He won’t appreciate you calling him Nathaniel. No one does but me, now that his father’s gone. It’s been ‘Nate’ to just about everyone since he was in school.”
Jess forced a smile. “I’m the same way when people want to call me Jessica. It’s my name but Jessica ought to be wearing frilly dresses and have her hair perfectly curled. That’s never been me.”
“Isn’t it wonderful that our names do not always have to define us? Everyone called me Eleanor Roosevelt when I was a girl. I’ll admit, I might have become a bit more outspoken, with that sort of role model, but they were hard shoes to fill. Jack just called me Ellie.”
Her smile wobbled and Jess worried she might be on the brink of tears. She pretended to mark something on her checklist to give the other woman time to recover.
“All right,” she said. “We have ruled out the two rooms we’re not clearing out yet. While I am enjoying the tour and the history immensely, maybe you should point me in the direction of one we can start on.”
Eleanor’s laugh sounded shaky but no longer tearful. “You caught me. This is harder than I thought it would be. My whole life since I was twenty-five years old is wrapped up in this house. My husband’s entire life was wrapped up in it. Sifting through a legacy is hard. Now I understand why some people leave this until after they’re gone.”
“If you have changed your mind about doing this now, I completely understand. I have other jobs I can do. I’ll charge you my travel fees and for my time today and we can leave it at that.”
For an instant, Eleanor looked tempted by the offer but she finally shook her head. “That would be the coward’s way out. Eleanor Roosevelt was certainly not a coward and neither am I. No. This won’t be easy but I think I just have to push my way through the hard, don’t I? That is what life is all about.”
Oh, she liked Eleanor. The woman’s grace and dignity made it very tough to maintain a cool, impersonal business relationship. Jess wanted her as a friend.
“Come on,” Eleanor said. “I’ll show you the rest of the rooms, then we can decide where to begin.”
In the end, they both chose to start in one of the spare bedrooms on the south, lesser-used wing. That took most of the morning, during which they cleared away several boxes of old holiday decorations that hadn’t been used in years as well as various knickknacks from previous generations.
She carried some of the boxes down to her pickup truck, which left several more boxes and an old velvet rocker recliner in the room.
“I don’t want you to have to carry everything by yourself. Let me get Nathaniel to help you.”
“It’s my job, Eleanor.”
“But it’s all my old junk. I can call him. He might be busy but he can probably come later.”
“How about this? Now that this room is mostly cleared out, let’s use the space for a clearing house of sorts for this wing of the house. We can put the things going to a charity shop on one side and the things you might want to sell yourself at an estate auction on the other.”
“I don’t know about an estate auction. Unless you or your partner can run it for me, the whole thing seems like so much bother for a few hundred dollars.”
“From what I’ve seen, you might be looking at substantially more than that.”
“I wouldn’t mind being able to donate to Sophie’s college fund. Her grandfather would love that.”
“Good idea. You don’t have to decide that right now. We can sort through things and you can make up your mind later. If you decide it’s too much bother, we can donate everything to the charity shop.”
Eleanor sighed. “You’re trying to make this as painless as possible on me, aren’t you?”
“That’s the idea.” Jess smiled.
They broke for lunch shortly after that. Eleanor looked tired and said she needed to rest for a half hour before they started up again.
“Perfect. Would you like me to take Charlie for a walk?” Jess suggested.
“Oh, he would love that. His harness and leash are by the back door of the mudroom. Thank you, my dear. I only need a few minutes, then I should be right as rain.”
Jess quickly found the dog’s leash and a chest harness that took her a moment to figure out while the dog watched on with clear anticipation.
Finally they were ready and she headed with the little hybrid dog on a trail that wended through the trees along the rocky cliffs overlooking the Pacific.
The air was sweet with the scent of redwoods and pines, with a salty underlayer from the ocean.
She would never get anything done if she lived here, Jess thought. The scenery was just so beautiful, she wanted to sink onto a fallen log and just watch the waves.
“Should we go back?” she asked Charlie after a few moments. He gave her a quizzical look but trotted ahead of her back toward the house.
This was one of the downfalls of her itinerant life. She had always wanted a pet but didn’t think it was fair to leave one in a tiny trailer all day while she worked. Clients who had pets were her favorites because she could shower all her pent-up cuddles on them.
When she returned to the house, she found Eleanor back in the kitchen, looking much more energized.
“How was your walk?”
“Beautiful. I can’t get enough of your views here.”
“Aren’t I lucky?” Eleanor said with a smile.
Jess had to agree.
The next room they worked in after lunch turned out to contain a treasure trove, a big walk-in closet that was filled with clothing of every possible style and color. It was like something out of a vintage boutique.
“For years, I’ve been throwing everything I don’t know what to do with in this closet,” Eleanor confessed.
“These have some value. Vintage clothing in this kind of condition is always hot and I’m sure we could find a vintage clothing store maybe in one of the bigger communities that might take some on consignment.”
Eleanor snorted and stuck on a particularly ugly yellow hat. “I remember my late mother-in-law wearing this to church on Sundays, without fail. She was quite a dragon, trust me. She didn’t want me to marry her precious Jack because my blood wasn’t nearly blue enough.”
She looked at herself in the mirror. “All I see when I look at it is her frowning face at Sunday dinner, criticizing me for not using enough yeast in my rolls. I can’t believe anyone would want this ratty old thing.”
“You may be surprised. It looks like something you might find on a Paris runway right now. I’m not an expert on fashion so I’ll leave that determination to my partner.”
Yvette had a fantastic eye for design and fashion and they typically consulted together frequently. Jess would snap a picture of several of the items and send them to her to see if her instincts were right, that they carried resale value.
They spent a few more hours going through the clothing, with Jess taking pictures here and there of things that caught her eye.
She could tell Eleanor was tired, though the older woman refused to rest when Jess suggested it.
“We’re almost done with this room. It will be so nice to say we have two rooms done.”
“It would, but I need to stretch and I think Charlie needs to go out.”
Eleanor shifted her attention to her cuddly little dog, who was staring at both of them from the doorway with an intent look.
“You’re probably right.”
“I’ll take him out.”
“Thank you. I believe I could do with a snack. And I just realized Sophie should be coming home on the school bus soon. She usually hangs out here in the afternoons until Nathaniel comes home from work.”
How wonderful of Eleanor to be there for her granddaughter, Jess thought as she opened the door for the dog into the fenced area of the gardens.
Charlie finished his business then ran back inside quickly. When they both returned to the kitchen, she found Eleanor setting out a snack of fruits, vegetables and cheeses.
“This looks good.”
“I didn’t eat much lunch and realized I was hungry. Help yourself.”
She grabbed some grapes and a few cubes of what looked like a good Havarti and set them on one of the plates Eleanor pulled from the cupboard.
“We’ve been so busy this morning that I really haven’t had time to ask you about yourself.”
Jess tensed. She really didn’t like talking about her past. “Not much to tell,” she said. “I joined the army out of high school and then a friend and I started Transitions when we both got out.”
“I know that much. I’m more interested in what you did before that. Where did you grow up?”
She swallowed a grape then gave some of the glib narrative she had developed over the years. It was the truth, anyway.
“Our father was in the military so we moved around a lot.”
“You probably lived in some interesting places, didn’t you?”
Years later, they all tended to run together in her memory. “We spent some time in Hawaii, Germany, England. All over the place.”
“Would you say you consider any one of those home?” Eleanor pressed.
“Tough question. I don’t know. I liked Monterey quite a bit.”
“Who doesn’t?” Eleanor said with a laugh.
“Cape Sanctuary reminds me of that area. The same dramatic coastline and scenery.”
Eleanor nodded. “I’ve always thought so. The landscape here is a bit like the Monterey and Carmel area but without the crowds. The best of both worlds. Of course, we don’t have the same number of quality restaurants and art galleries but we do all right here.”
Better than all right. Jess knew her sister loved it here. Rachel had stayed through high school, hadn’t she? Even when Jess had tried to convince her to move to Southern California with her.
“Did you grow up in this area?” Jess asked. She was genuinely curious but was aware she also used the question as a diversionary tactic to keep Eleanor from probing too deeply into Jess’s own history.
“No. I was raised in Europe and Asia, mostly. Like you, I don’t have any one place I could call home. My parents were both in the foreign service.”
“That sounds exotic. I imagine you have fascinating stories.”
“I was in boarding school, for the most part. It was rather lonely, if you want the truth. I went to Stanford for university and ended up meeting Jack my senior year. He was the assistant professor for an English class I was taking. He was seven years older than I was and we both knew it was a completely inappropriate relationship but we fell in love anyway. It was quite scandalous, as I’m sure you can imagine. It was his first university teaching job and he was so afraid we would be found out. Lots of clandestine meetings at my apartment, hotels off campus, that sort of thing.”
Her dreamy expression gave Jess an odd feeling. Envy, she realized.
Why? She didn’t want that kind of passion. Ever. Her mother had clearly demonstrated how disastrous it could be to love someone that completely.
“Jack and I eloped the day after my college graduation,” Eleanor went on with a laugh. “It was the only way he could keep his job.”
“Did he stay at Stanford?”
“Another few years and then his mother died and his father grew ill and we decided to move back here to help him. He transferred and we’ve been here ever since. He commuted to Redding to teach there. It wasn’t quite Stanford, but it was the students he loved anyway.”
Was Eleanor aware her whole expression softened whenever she talked about her husband? Jess found it charming.
Before she could answer, she heard the front door open and a young voice call out. “Gram? Are you home?”
“In the kitchen, my dear.”
An instant later, a young teenage girl came in, maybe thirteen or fourteen. She had light brown hair and bright blue eyes. Jess knew instantly this must be Nate’s daughter, Sophie.
The girl stopped short in the doorway. “Oh. I didn’t know you had company.”
“This is my friend Jess Clayton. I told you about her. Jess, this is my granddaughter, Sophia.”
“Sophie,” the girl said. She tilted her head, studying Jess with interest. “You’re the one who has that adorable trailer parked by the beach trail.”
“Guilty.”
“It’s so cute. Is it an antique?”
“It’s a vintage Airstream from the 1990s but I’m not sure I would call it an antique exactly.”
“I’ve seen them on Instagram. Did you restore it yourself?”
“Most of it. It’s been a labor of love for the past few years.”
“Can I see inside it sometime?”
She blinked at the unexpected request. Not very many adolescent girls would be interested in a restored Airstream.
“Sophie has an emerging interest in all things design,” Eleanor explained.
“That’s terrific,” Jess said. “Good for you. I should tell you that while I did most of the physical work except what I had subcontractors help with, my friend Yvette made all the design choices. It would have been a disaster if I had tried to decorate it myself.”
Sophie offered her a tentative smile. “I still want to see it sometime. If you don’t mind.”
“Why don’t we go now?” Eleanor suggested. “I wouldn’t mind seeing it myself.”
“Can we?” Sophie asked.
Jess felt guilty, thinking of all the work they still had to do here at Eleanor’s house, the rooms they hadn’t yet touched.
On the other hand, Eleanor was paying for her time. If she wanted to take a break so her granddaughter could see a restored travel trailer, Jess didn’t know that it was her place to argue. Anyway, the Airstream was only twenty-four feet long. The tour only lasted about two minutes.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
She did love her little house, with its clever uses of space and the generous light pouring in through the windows encircling it. Eleanor and her granddaughter seemed enthralled with the cabinets and the bathroom wet room that gave her adequate space to shower.
“It’s so cute. Seriously. The cutest tiny house I’ve ever seen. You really live here all the time?” Sophie asked.
“Technically I keep an apartment outside LA but I usually only sleep there a few weeks out of the year. The rest of the time, this is home.”
“That’s so awesome. Maybe I’ll buy one when I graduate from high school and travel around the US and Canada.”
“After college, you mean?” Eleanor asked pointedly.
Sophie shrugged. “Or before. Who knows?”
“Your dad won’t be very happy with that idea,” Eleanor said with a laugh.
“By then I’ll be eighteen and he won’t get any say in what I do,” the girl retorted.
The defiance in her voice reminded Jess so painfully of her own stilted relationship with her father at this age. Jess’s father had earned her antagonism. Had Sophie’s?
She didn’t know the man well enough to make a guess about that.
“Are you really Rachel McBride’s sister?” Sophie asked as they were heading back to the house. “You don’t seem very much alike.”
Yes, she had been hearing that for most of her life. Rachel had been sweet and kind, traits Jess could never claim.
“Yes. Since the day she was born. I’m two years older.”
“I follow her on Insta. Someday I want to have as many followers as she does.”
She blinked at this information. It still took her by surprise to be reminded that Rachel had become a social media influencer, mixing images of her kids and her home with charming pictures of the landscape around Cape Sanctuary. Jess didn’t spend a lot of time on social media but she had found that following her sister was the best way to keep up with her nieces and nephew.
“Rachel is quite a celebrity around here,” Eleanor added.
“Not just around here,” Sophie said. “My friend Jaycee lives in Florida and her mom follows Rachel. She was excited that I live in the same town as her.”
“I’m glad she found her niche,” Jess said.
“She should feature your Airstream. Seriously, it’s so cute.”
Jess wasn’t sure she liked the idea of all those prying eyes looking into her space.
“Maybe,” she said in a noncommittal way.
“Can I help you guys clean stuff out?” Sophie asked when they returned to the kitchen.
“We’re mostly done for today. I’m only taking a few pictures of some clothes we found in one of the rooms to send to my partner. She’s better than I am at guessing value.”
“You can help us, if you’d like. But don’t you have homework to do first?” Eleanor asked.
Was the older woman looking pale again or was it only the difference in light after moving from the sunshine to the indoor lighting?
“Not much. Half a math worksheet that I didn’t have enough time in class to finish. I’m caught up with everything else.”
“You can certainly join us, then.”
As they started toward the wing they had been working in, Eleanor stopped, resting her hand on the edge of a table in the hallway. “On second thought, I’m not feeling the best. Would you mind terribly if I stop for the day and take a nap?”
Jess frowned, worried all over again about Eleanor’s health. “Am I wearing you out?”
“It’s not your fault. I was ill a few weeks ago and I don’t quite have my strength back yet, I’m afraid.”
“Want me to stay with you, Gram?” Sophie asked.
“No. I’m fine. I’ll just take a snooze in my favorite chair with Charlie on my lap and be good as new in a half hour or so.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Don’t you worry about me. Go take your pictures.” She kissed her granddaughter’s head and shooed them down the hall.
“Is that unusual, for your grandmother to tire so easily?” she asked Sophie.
The girl shrugged. “Yeah, she gets tired a little more often lately, maybe. Like she said, she was pretty sick a few weeks ago. She didn’t get out of bed for about three days. She hasn’t been herself since then.”
Jess found it odd that Eleanor had been so energetic first thing that morning and then had tired as the day wore on. She seemed frail, somehow.
Not her business, Jess reminded herself. She was supposed to be keeping a safe emotional distance from Eleanor, Sophie and everyone else here in Cape Sanctuary.
Too bad she was having such a hard time remembering that.