is nice,” Nettie said. “Lots of cupboards. Someone must have remodeled not too many years ago. Go ahead. Go inside.” She shooed them through the next doorway.
Meara stepped into the large living room. Tall windows in front looked out on the busy street below. An arch opened on the right to a hallway with a front and back bedroom and bath in between. Exactly what they needed…at least, for the time being.
“You’ve cleaned,” Meara said, looking at the gleaming table next to a love seat and the shiny windows.
“Oh, not much. Just dusted and swept,” she said.
Meara chuckled, adding, “And ran the vacuum, washed the windows and…” She stepped into the bathroom. “You cleaned the tub, sink, everything.”
“Makes a place look more homey when it’s not covered with dust.”
“Well, thank you so much.” Meara longed to give her a hug.
Otis stepped beside his wife and slid an arm around her shoulder. “I’ve got quite a woman here. Always doin’ somethin’ for someone. Over at the church, she’s got her nose in every committee. Visits the sick, cares for the altar, attends Bible study, works on the dinners. You name it.”
“You’re a blessed man, Otis,” Meara agreed.
“S’pose I am.” He gave Nettie a loving hug and strode across the room to the front windows.
“What do you think?” Nettie asked.
“I think it’ll do fine for us,” Meara said. “But I need to pick up a few things before we can move in. I’ll make a list of necessities before I leave.”
“Now, you check with us first,” Otis offered. “We got a pile of furniture sittin’ in the basement and all just lookin’ for a home.”
“He means that, Meara.” Nettie gave her a warm smile. “Such a pretty name,” she added.
“Thank you,” Meara said. “Both of you are too kind.” Recalling the years she had rarely heard a kind or loving word, she felt about to bust with gratitude. She looked across the room at Mac and a twinge of sadness ran through her. He’d never experienced a loving father or grandfather.
A sound drew her attention. Mac had his nose pressed against the single window that overlooked the other single-story shops. “Kites,” he called, pointing wildly through the pane.
Meara joined him and witnessed a multitude of kites sailing high above them from the small park between the road and the ferry parking lot. “I suppose you like this apartment, huh, Mac?”
“I like it,” he said, keeping his focus fastened to the view outside.
Meara turned to Otis. “Before I get too excited, I’d better hear what he’s asking for rent.”
“We didn’t discuss that, fully.” Otis pinched his lip. “He said the place has been sittin’ empty for so long that five dollars would be more than he was gettin’ before.” He chortled.
“Yes, but I expect it’ll be more than five dollars. I’d have to pay a fortune anywhere else.”
“I think two hundred a month should do it.”
Meara gaped. “Two hundred. No. You mean four hundred.”
“Cat’s whiskers,” Otis said with a grin. “Two hundred is about right.”
“Oh, I feel—”
“You feel like you’ll say, ‘It’s a deal,’” he said.
She nodded and smiled. “Mac, you think we should move in here?”
Mac giggled. “Cat’s whiskers,” he said.
Otis stepped back. “Oops! There I go again.”
“Otis Manning,” Nettie said, shaking her finger at him. “I’d better wash both your mouths out with soap.”
Bubbling with giggles, Mac hurried to Otis’s side and wrapped his arm around him. “Both get our mouths washed out, don’t we?”
“Looks like it, son,” Otis said, rumpling Mac’s hair.
With her spirits lifted, Meara drove down the lane to their cabin. Soon they’d be in a more comfortable setting, but first she had work to do and so much to buy. Supplies and linens, dishes and pans, and beds. The Mannings had taken her list and had said they would gather up what they had, and Nettie had said the church was having a rummage sale the next day. She could pick up a few things there, perhaps.
She parked, and Mac flung open the door, anxious to get outside. He’d been in the shop and apartment much of the afternoon, and his energy was straining for release.
As she unlocked the cabin, a new thought struck like a hammer. She would be five miles away from Jordan. From what she could tell, he went into town for groceries and supplies, but little else. And she had no reason to come here anymore.
Her thoughts clogged like a bad drain. Why did she care about Jordan? He’d been kind to Mac…and to her. Picturing herself sprawled on the sand by Dooley’s exuberance, she smiled. Life in the cabin had offered her fresh air. Sunshine. A new beginning. Forget Jordan. She and Mac would create a new life in town.
Meara tossed her purse on the sofa, locked the door and dropped the keys into her pocket. She would thank Jordan for the apartment. This time she had a reason to speak with him. She and Mac followed the pine-shaded path to the sunny beach. The glimmering lake rolled in like blue corrugated paper sprinkled with gold dust.
She drew in a deep, refreshing breath. Her life was about to begin, a new adventure. Her life before…She stopped herself. Memories rushed in like a river, washing away the joy that she had gathered on the banks. She did not need self-pity. Her new adventure had opened doors she’d never known before. Hope and happiness flooded her.
Mac toddled along beside her while she reviewed her plans for the coming days. Tomorrow morning she would go to the church, and then she could shop for the other things she needed. Perhaps she’d go into Cheboygan. The town was larger and had well-stocked shops. But thinking of Mac, her spirits were dampened. She’d kept him bound up in the apartment all morning, and tomorrow would be the same.
As they rounded the tree-lined curve in the shore, a long, disjointed kite drifted in the sky above the water ahead of them, its sections undulating on the lake breeze. Her pulse skipped. Mac saw it, too, and let out a joyful cry. They hurried ahead, and the distant figure of Jordan grew nearer until they were at his side.
“What is that?” Meara asked, gasping for breath.
Mac’s face skewed, and a giggle rose. “A kite, Mama!”
She dropped her hand on his shoulder. “Yes, a kite, Mac, but what kind?” She pointed at the sections rising and falling with the air current. “See how it moves on the wind.” She looked to Jordan for the answer.
“It’s centipede style,” he responded. “It’s created in sections.” He aimed Mac toward the front of the kite and pointed. “See the head, Mac? It’s
