The Inn at Angel Island (27 page)

Claire and Jeff came up into the attic, and eventually even Will joined them, and everyone worked together to clear the space under and around the huge branch.

“We need to put something over the hole,” Claire said. “A tarp or a drop cloth or something.”

“How will we do that?” Liza was grateful for the suggestion, spoken in such a cool, level-headed manner, but she didn’t have the foggiest idea of how this remedy could be accomplished.

“We can use one of the ladders Daniel left and get up to the roof, then pull the tarp over. One person can stand up on the balcony on the third floor,” Claire suggested.

“That might work,” Liza reasoned aloud. “We have to try.”

The rain was still falling hard and showed no sign of letting up anytime soon.

Liza ran downstairs and pulled on clothes, then ran out to the shed and found three large tarps. Luckily they had ropes dangling off grommets on the corners. That would help to pull them up, she thought.

Peter was already outside with Jeff, positioning the longest of the extension ladders. He took a deep breath, gave his sister a look from under the hood of his yellow rain jacket, then reached for the biggest tarp.

“Go up to the balcony on the third floor,” he told Liza. “I’ll toss you one corner of the tarp. If you pull on it, maybe it will cover the hole.”

“We should tie a weight or something to one end, Dad,” Will said. “Then we can fling it over the peak of the roof.”

Liza looked at her nephew, who had come out into the rain with the rest of them. “Genius. Sheer genius. That’s exactly what we need to do, or it probably won’t reach.” She had to shout to be heard over the wind.

Will grinned, then ran off and found a good-sized rock. He tied one end to one of the ropes attached to the tarp, and finally Peter started up the ladder.

“I’ll hold the ladder steady,” Jeff told his ex-brother-in-law. Liza was surprised that he had come outside and was trying to help. It was a nice gesture, all things considered.

Liza ran upstairs to the third-floor balcony, where she waited for Peter to toss one end of the tarp over the roof to her.

After several attempts and some adjustments in their strategy, the hole was finally covered. Claire had come out on the balcony to help Liza while Jeff and Will shouted instructions to Peter from below.

The tarp was pulled tight and secured outside by tying down the ropes that hung from each corner with some large nails driven into the roof.

When the tarp finally seemed secure, they all went inside again. Jeff and Will headed for hot showers while Peter, Liza, and Claire went back up to the attic to make sure there was no more water leaking in.

It was still a disaster area to be sure. But they could see that the tarp covered the hole adequately, and only a small amount of rain still seeped through.

“It should hold for a while,” Liza said. “At least until the rain ends.”

“It’d better. I don’t think we can do anything more tonight,” Peter said wearily.

They were all exhausted and returned to their rooms. For the second time that day, Liza pulled off sopping wet clothes and put on a T-shirt and sweatpants, then dropped onto her bed. The clock read five minutes past five. She closed her eyes, hoping for a few hours of sleep before she had to get up and deal with this latest crisis.

What was going to happen to her next? She was afraid to even consider the question. One disaster at a time. That was her new motto.

 

 

LIZA managed to sleep for an hour or so but soon woke up, feeling anxious and worried. She went down to the kitchen and was surprised to find Claire already there, the scent of something baking filling the room with a buttery, sweet aroma.

The smell of coffee rose from a drip pot, and Liza helped herself to a cup. “The rain has stopped. At least for a while. Is the power on yet?”

“Not yet, that usually takes a few hours,” Claire replied.

Liza sat with her coffee and took a sip. “Thanks for your quick thinking last night. I would have never thought of covering the roof like that. We would all be swimming around in a fishbowl right now,” she joked.

“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” Claire replied modestly. “You would have come up with some solution.”

Maybe so, but Claire’s cool head and resourcefulness had definitely saved the day. Liza was grateful to her. Not just for the roof, she realized, but for all the help she had so freely given ever since Liza had arrived.

“I guess we’ll have to get the roof fixed before we can sell this place,” Liza said, thinking out loud. “No one’s going to buy it in this condition.”

“That branch has tossed a monkey wrench into your plans,” Claire agreed in a sympathetic tone. She opened the oven and peered inside. The cinnamon smell was incredibly delicious.

“Too bad for your brother, he seems to be counting on a quick sale.”

“Yes, he is,” Liza said. She had come here wanting a quick sale, too. But she felt differently about it now. Perhaps Claire sensed that. The next thing the housekeeper said made Liza think so.

“Did you ever hear that saying, ‘When God closes one door, He always opens another’?” Claire asked.

“My aunt used to say that whenever I got frustrated—trying to make a sports team or missing out on some job situation.”

Claire smiled. “Yes, it was one of her favorite sayings. She also used to say that the problem with most people is that they sit staring at the closed door so long, they never notice the open one.”

Liza didn’t recall that part of the proverb. A nice twist, she thought. Were she and Peter staring at the closed door right now, even with a huge branch poking right through it? Claire seemed to think so.

Funny how just yesterday when she visited the cemetery, she was thinking that her aunt would not have approved of such a rush sale, making such a big decision without taking their time, considering their choices. Looking for another open door. Looking at things . . . creatively.

Peter needed the money. He had made no secret of that. He was counting on it.

But I have money I can loan him or even give him,
Liza realized. She and Jeff had sold their condo as a condition of their separation agreement. Liza had planned to buy a new property with her share, but the money was just sitting in the bank. Hers to do with as she pleased.

“Would you like a muffin?” Claire asked, setting a basket of hot muffins on the table.

Liza took one and put in on her plate. Then she peeled back the paper wrapper. “This looks great. What kind is it, carrot?”

“Not exactly. It’s called Morning Glory.”

Liza took a bite. “It’s good. Really good,” she said around a mouthful.

Claire looked pleased by her reaction. “It’s an old recipe, but it comes out a little different every time. It all comes together in the end, though. If you relax and take your time.”

Liza didn’t cook much, but she had some idea of what Claire was talking about. That was the way she had always felt about her art. She would set out with some concept for what she wanted to capture in a sketch or painting, but then she always had to allow for the work to take on its own life, to speak with its own voice. For the unexpected to evolve. That was the fun of it, the magic.

Liza wanted to talk more to Claire about this notion, but Jeff was coming down the hall toward the kitchen, dressed and ready to go. “Well, I’m off,” he said. “If the bridge isn’t open yet, I’ll just wait.”

“I think it will be open by now,” Claire said.

“Would you like some coffee before you go?” Liza asked. She and Jeff might not be a couple anymore, but they could be decent to each other.

He hesitated. “All right, just a quick cup.”

Claire poured a mug of coffee and handed it to him. He didn’t sit down but drank it standing.

“Thanks for helping out last night,” Liza said. “It was all hands on deck.”

“It was exciting. I sort of enjoyed it.” Jeff glanced at her. “A memorable chapter in a memorable visit.”

Liza didn’t answer. She met his glance and looked away.

“How about a muffin—for the road? They’re very good.”

She held out the basket, a peace offering. He smiled finally and took a muffin, then wrapped it in a napkin. “For the road, then.”

Jeff said good-bye to Claire and headed for the door.

Liza followed. “Good-bye, Jeff,” she said. “Drive safely.”

“Good-bye, Liza.” He turned and briefly hugged her. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for,” he said, as he stepped away.

“I hope so, too,” Liza replied. Though she hadn’t until that moment realized she was searching for anything special in her life. She just knew what she didn’t want. But maybe that was the same thing, just viewed from a different angle.

She stepped out onto the porch. Jeff climbed into his car and drove away. She watched the car turn at the end of the drive, then disappear. An ordinary sight. Yet in this instance, it felt so final.

Liza stood on the porch, hugging her arms around her for warmth as she stared out at the ocean and the crystal clear sky.

Finding closure about her marriage and her disillusionment with her job had left a gaping hole in her life. Two focal points of her life had been wiped off the playing board. In the blink of an eye, it seemed.

Now there was just a big hole there. Like the one up in the roof. How would she fix it? What should she do?

It seemed like a huge disaster. But it had also opened a space where you could see the blue sky or the stars at night.

That was something to think about, too.

It was all in the way you looked at things, Liza realized. Out on this island, she seemed to be seeing everything from a very different perspective.

Chapter Eleven

L
IZA leaned on the porch railing and took one last, lingering look at the water. She certainly wasn’t going to answer these huge life questions right now. For one thing, she had more practical matters to focus on—figuring out how to fix the roof, for starters. She knew very well that the huge storm last night was just the first of many. She had to get a solid roof on the inn before the next storm hit.

I guess I should ask Daniel what to do. Even if he can’t do the repair work, he probably knows a few carpenters or roofers who could.

Another opportunity to see him, she knew. But she wasn’t just trumping up a phony reason. There was, after all, a huge hole in the roof . . .

Liza caught herself and felt annoyed that she was giving the situation so much thought. Then she had to smile as Daniel’s truck came into view. As if her thoughts had summoned him.

The white pickup pulled into the drive and parked near the front door. Liza waited on the porch as Daniel got out of the truck and walked toward her. His wide smile and dark eyes made her pulse race, but she did her best to hide her reaction.

“So, you survived the storm, I see. The place is still standing,” Daniel greeted her.

“Just barely.” Liza pointed to the tree that had been struck by lightning. “That tree was hit, and a huge branch fell off and went right through our roof.”

“Wow . . . close call. You were lucky.”

“I guess we were.” Liza hadn’t thought of it that way before, but it was true. The house could have been hit by lightning and caught fire. Maybe a big hole was not so bad after all.

“How bad is it?” Daniel stepped closer, looking concerned.

Liza was suddenly having a hard time focusing on the damaged roof. All she could think about was being alone with him yesterday and how good that felt.

She forced her mind back to his question. “Well, the hole is sort of off to one side of the eave,” she answered. “And there’s this huge branch. I don’t know how we’ll ever move that, it’s so heavy. It’s hard to describe,” she said finally, glancing up at him.

“Let’s go up and take a look.” He met her gaze and briefly touched her shoulder, then followed her to the front door.

Something between them felt different this morning. Some ineffable . . . something. They had crossed some sort of line yesterday, a line of intimacy. Their relationship had moved into some new territory, one that was a strange, foreign land to her after being married for so long.

And she had made a final break with Jeff last night, even more final than their divorce—which left her free to see Daniel in a new way.

They headed into the house, and Liza led the way up the first staircase. “Do you work on roofs, too?” she asked him.

“I might be able to work on this one. Let’s just see what’s going on.”

They finally arrived in the dimly lit attic. Daniel surveyed the branch and hole from a few different angles. Then he looked over the surrounding beams and the fractured wood around the opening. “Hmm. That is a nasty hit.”

“So, what’s your prognosis, Doctor? Can this roof be saved?”

“I’ll give it my best shot—though the emergency surgery will delay the paint job.”

“Oh, right.” Liza hadn’t thought of that. They could probably find someone else to fix the roof while Daniel kept painting. But now that he had looked over the damage and said he could do it, she didn’t feel right taking the project away from him.

“Well, it can’t be helped, I guess. A hole in the house is a priority.”

“I’d tend to agree with that, especially with more rain in the forecast. You’re catching on to this renovation stuff pretty quickly.”

She knew he was teasing her now. “Thanks. I do watch those home shows from time to time.”

“I guessed that. Are you sure you really want to sell this place? I think you secretly enjoy it.”

She was secretly enjoying something about these repair issues, that was for sure.

She caught his eye for an instant, then looked away. A few cartons marked “Christmas” caught her eye, and Liza rushed over to move them to a dry spot.