“And now you’re back.”

“Yes.” His face went still. “Not all my classmates were so lucky.”

Words fell away and his stillness gave away nothing.

“Okay, then,” he said with finality, prying off the lid of his Styrofoam cup. Steam rose from his coffee. He took a sip, then set the cup on the counter. “Best get started. Can’t open the windows with all this rain, but at least this part goes faster.”

“Before you do, I wonder if you’d come with me to the attic?”

“The attic?”

“Uh, yes. I want to change the knobs and pulls on the cabinets. They deserve something better, once they’re all freshly painted. Don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “I guess that’d be nice. Yeah.”

“Mamaw said there were some vintage ones stored up there that we could use. I want to give them a look first to decide. If we like them, I don’t know if I could carry them. I don’t know how heavy they’ll be.” She looked out the window, indicating the weather. “I thought if we did it now, while it’s early, it might be cooler up there. Especially with this cold front in.” She took a breath. God help her, she was rambling.

He gifted her with one of his rare smiles. “Sure.”

“Okay.” She squeezed her hands, then turned. “It’s this way.”

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She was aware of him walking behind her as she led the way through the living room to the west wing of the house where the girls’ bedrooms were. Midway through the hall a trapdoor led to the attic. She reached for the rope handle, but Taylor reached up to grab it first. After a yank he had the wooden stairs pulled down.

“You can go first,” Harper told him, then followed him up the narrow stairs. “There’s a light switch at the top.”

In the center of the large attic the steep roof was tall enough for even Taylor to stand up, but it sloped sharply on either side. Two dormers cut through the roof on the front side of the house, and each had a functional window, though they were filthy, and the room smelled musty. She sniffed, then sneezed.

Rain pattered on the roof like a drumbeat, slow and steady.

Taylor stood with his hands on his hips, his gaze traveling the attic with an appreciative expression. “What a great space.”

Harper had only been in the attic once, when she was very young. She and Carson were exploring the forbidden territory one afternoon when Mamaw and Lucille had gone off shopping. She’d found the space dingy and dusty and filled with boxes and furniture, boring to two young girls searching for pirate’s booty.

She looked around now with a woman’s eyes and saw a treasure trove of vintage furniture and knickknacks. There were old trunks and suitcases and paintings in heavy frames, mostly landscapes, some with cracked glass fronts. In the corner sat a dusty old gramophone. Wrought-iron and brass bed frames were lined against the walls. She recognized the two twin beds that she’d slept on earlier that summer. She smiled when she spied her old wooden dollhouse. Boxes were everywhere, stacked high, tilting, dust laden and spotted with mold.

Her hands itched to open the boxes and discover what lay inside. Who knew what she’d find? Linens, vintage clothing, shawls, jewelry. Letters. Her heart leaped. Maybe even her father’s book. She couldn’t wait to begin searching. Then, glancing at Taylor, she calmed her excitement. She couldn’t keep him tied up here all day searching through boxes.

She stooped to pick up a brown velvet hat with a feather trim. “I can only imagine what’s in all those boxes.” She dusted off the hat. It was actually quite pretty. “I feel like I’m on a treasure hunt.” She put the hat on. “How do I look?”

Taylor scrunched his face.

She laughed. The sound seemed to float in the closed room.

Taylor, it seemed, was interested only in the architecture. “Whoever designed this house intended that this space should be built up. Look”—he pointed—“that roof could easily be raised, making a whole new floor up here.” He walked a few feet, peering at the roof. “In fact, you’re due for a new one. Overdue, I’d say.” He pointed to where the roof showed alarming signs of sagging, and where water stains showed on some of the boxes.

“I’ll tell Mamaw. She won’t be pleased.”

Taylor’s eyes gleamed as he studied the roofline. “You could add more dormers in the back. Or”—he was getting caught up in his idea—“what I would do is put doors there with a deck overlooking the Cove.” He crossed the floor to a small window. Bending low, he peered out. “Man, it’s a great view from up here.”

Harper walked closer. “Mamaw already has a widow’s walk up on the roof.”

“But here you can create two new bedrooms. And a bath. It’d be no problem.”

“Have you done that kind of work?”

“Sure. With my father. Expanding old family houses is steady business in these parts. People don’t like to sell. Memories are part of the houses.”

“Well”—Harper began winding her way through the narrow path between boxes to the rear of the attic—“that will be a project for the new owners.”

“You’re selling the place?”

“My grandmother is.”

“That’s too bad. Hasn’t Sea Breeze been in the family for generations?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to get into this subject but she stopped to turn and face him. “Mamaw held on to it as long as she could. It’s too much for her now. Plus she’s all alone now. She’s moving into a retirement community at the end of summer. Putting the house on the market.”

“And no one in the family wants it?”

Harper knew he meant the three sisters. “It’s not a question of wanting it. It’s being able to afford it.”

“It’s a common enough story. Lots of my family members are selling, or have already long sold off, family property. Their kids don’t want the burden, the taxes are high, or they’ve moved off. It’s happening all over.”

“What about your parents?”

“My parents never had a big house. They were lucky and got their house on the water back in the day when they could afford it. But,” he added with pride, “my mother’s great-grandfather once had a plantation along the Santee River. It’d been in the family since before the War. That property’s been divided up so many times now there’s nothing left but a memory.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I like the house they have in McClellanville. It’s right on the water. Suits a shrimper.”




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