I stand at the second-story window, looking out over the backyard, and spot two deer munching on the lilies I planted in the fall. Why the dog doesn’t chase them off, I cannot say. He seems to have a détente with them, as much as he’d assault any predator that should wander into the yard. Not that any ever have. I have a dog.
Today is my last day in the Homestead. I’ll miss this view and the easy access to Dogtown, but I’m excited to finally have a place of my own, one with all the amenities a modern apartment can offer, including, thank God, a dishwasher. I’ve decided to stay in Gloucester; it’s been a refuge and a place of healing, and although I could, maybe should, go back to the Boston area, Cape Ann is close enough to my family that we can see one another anytime we so desire. Besides, Tucker offered me a job as his office manager. He’s never had one before, and I can’t wait to get started whipping his business into administrative shape. I’ll be the voice of Dogtown Construction.
The Baxter family will be arriving in dribs and drabs for the dedication ceremony Carol has invented. There are trestle tables set up already and a bunch of rented folding chairs. Rather than have everyone struggle to come up with a pot-luck item and then have to travel some distance, they had me hire a caterer. I had carte blanche and have organized a traditional New England lobster boil. The weather gods have graced us with a perfect July day, not too hot, and only a little overcast, with an onshore breeze.
Meghan and Marley will come with Don and Carol. Meghan’s mom and dad are scheduled to fly into Boston and drive up by noon. The rest of the far-flung clan have either already arrived in the area or will be here soon. My mom and Teddy are coming. After meeting Meghan and Sharkey, Teddy has decided to pursue getting a service dog of his own. He’s applied to the prison program I was involved with, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Pete Bannerman is coming from Connecticut. Even though Cecily Foster dropped the suit against me, and the house is done, he’s become a friend, and I’m looking forward to seeing him today.
The house has the feel of an empty stage just waiting for the actors to appear. I think back at how different it was a mere ten months ago, a tumble-down wreck of an old woman’s neglected home. Its renaissance as the summer home of a flock of that old woman’s descendants has been astounding, and I have to credit Tucker Bellingham with being stubborn and exacting.
I walk through the rooms, admire the way the wide plank floors gleam with Butcher’s wax, the way the Delft tiles surrounding the two parlor fireplaces draw the eye. I’ve put the antique candlesticks that I discovered upstairs on the marble mantels that Tucker found on eBay. In the bright summer sunlight coming through the six-over-six restored windows, the polished paneling that flanks the “good” parlor fireplace fairly glows. The new but authentic wrought-iron latch reveals the hidden wood box.
I feel Susannah’s presence.
I have so little to pack that I haven’t done more than stow the folding cot, my sleeping bag, and my few dishes in the back of my car. Somehow, the act of moving my things has upset Shadow, and he’s been pacing and whining every time I take an armload out to the car. “It’s okay, Shadow. We’re going to be very happy in our new place. You’ll love it.” It wasn’t all that easy to find a pet-friendly rental, especially with the size of my pet, but I did. There was no way I was going to leave Shadow behind. He has been my rock. With him by my side, I fear no man.