The bedroom part also had another, even smaller fireplace that, even in the current state of wreck of that room, was quaint.
After that, we walked up to the fourth floor.
And the instant I cleared it, I stopped dead.
Windows the entire circumference gave a panoramic view so stunning, it seemed like a miracle. Sea, cliffs, green forest and the picture-perfection of Magdalene were available to view unencumbered, and I knew that because I’d sorted myself enough to make a slow turn.
“This always gets ’em,” the realtor murmured. “Can forget the mess downstairs the second you see this. Problem is, you gotta walk back downstairs to get out.”
I didn’t care about the other three stories.
I didn’t care that I knew down to my soul Patrick was wrong, this was a fool’s errand, coming out here to repair relationships that were irreparable, and live out the rest of my book of life.
There was one thing that room, that view, proved Patrick right about.
I was meant to be in Maine.
I was meant to be right there.
If I was meant to have no beauty in my life but the love of Patrick and his family, I was still meant to have this.
Because Patrick could give it to me.
And I knew in that second he was smiling down at me, happy as a danged clam and smug as heck, knowing he was right.
“The studio has a veranda so you got outside space if you’re that kinda person who likes hanging outside,” the agent carried on. “But I figure this is all the outside space anyone would need. Tell you, more than one showing, I thought it’d be worth the headache to put this place to rights just to have my morning cup of coffee sitting right up here and I wouldn’t care I gotta climb three sets of stairs to get here.”
He was not wrong about that.
And just then, I decided to have coffee up there every morning for the rest of my life.
“Whenever that notion overwhelms me, my wife disabuses me of it,” he said.
I couldn’t imagine.
She must never have been up there.
“’Cross the way, that’s Lavender House,” he stated.
I looked “’cross the way” as he was indicating, this being across the sun twinkling off the gentle waves rolling into the cove, to see a beautiful, rambling old home set back off a cliff. It was not nearly as magnificent as the lighthouse, but then again, I was standing where I was standing, so I’d think that.
“Almost as old as this place and just as pretty in its own way,” the realtor declared. “That’s private property too and always has been, like the lighthouse. And beyond that, that house you see that looks like it’s floating on the cliff, that’s Cliff Blue.”
I trained my eyes where he instructed and saw a breathtaking home the likes I’d never seen before. It was the modern yin to Lavender House’s yang, but even modern, it seemed somehow to fit perfectly where it was, like it had always been there.
“Prentice Cameron built that,” the agent said. “And if you don’t know who he is, Google him. Town council is choosy about what new plans they’ll approve to be built on coastal land. Think they all drowned in their own drool when Cameron came in to design and build that. It’s modern but pretty as a picture. Perfect.”
After saying that, he turned from his perusal of the landscape to me with an expression on his face that captured my attention, all of it, as he continued speaking.
“And I’ll just say, even in the state this is in, doing it with pride, this triumvirate of properties is what Magdalene is second most proud of, outside keeping the town as it should be. But they’re all private properties and the folks in town, they’re just as protective of them and their inhabitants as the owners, I figure. So, since this is open space and easily visible, not couched in trees like Lavender House, or in a private neighborhood like Cliff Blue, you might have your lookie-loos. But if anyone asks a citizen of Magdalene, all of us will do what we can to maintain your privacy.”
“That’s good to know,” I said softly.
He looked me up and down, turned his gaze through the expanse then gave his serious expression back to me.
“Been doing this job a long time. I can see when a buyer is interested and I can see when they’re interested in something that they know is gonna be a heck of a project, but that doesn’t matter to them because they’ve fallen in love. And I see that last is happening with you. So I gave you full disclosure, now I’ll give you full honesty.”
“That would . . .” I hesitated because I wasn’t sure my last wasn’t a lie, “be appreciated.”
He didn’t hesitate.
“See, this is a lot of work and you got it in you to restore it, great. But there are buildings, land. Take an entire day even with a riding mower, probably, just to mow the lawn. And the townsfolk’d lose their minds, you mow over the tulips that coat the place come full-on spring. No one knows how those tulips got here, but Google ‘Magdalene Lighthouse’ and that’s pretty much all the pictures you’ll see.”
God, I couldn’t wait to see that and I was going to Google it the minute I got back to the inn.
“But you’re a slip of a thing, apparently on your own, and this is gonna be a lot for you.”
He lifted his hand and shook it at me even as he shook his head and kept speaking.
“I’m not being sexist. Like I said, I’m being honest. But more, it seems close to town, and it is, ish, you go the direct coastal path into town, which is just over two miles of walking. But by the roads, since it goes inland then eastward, it’s over five miles to get out here and there isn’t anything built within the first two, primarily because of that light and the horn I told you about. But also because Magdalene likes this view unencumbered, so a lot of that is parkland so it’d stay just that way. That means this is a lot more secluded than it looks from town.”
This was not a deterrent.
This could be, in future, if things went awry (and they were probably going to go awry), a boon.
I’d need to be secluded, separate, reclusive.
But regardless, I was one of those people who could be good on my own. I hadn’t had a lot of that in recent years, what with Patrick and his family, but when I had it, I could enjoy it.
And if I had this lighthouse all to myself, I had a feeling I could learn to love it.
“So, just to say, you should consider all that when you consider buying this,” he advised. “But I’ll also say I know you’re from Denver. And I know New Englanders are considered unfriendly by folks out west. We’re not. We’re just different. We like what we know and who we know. We depend on tourists but, being honest, they can sometimes be a pain in the backside. But you move here, you’ll be one of us. Simple as that. And to prove that’s true, if you don’t have someone who’s coming here with you to help you take this on, then I’ll be the first to share I’m happy to look after the old girl when you’re away. You just call on me. And if I can’t, I’ll help you find someone who can. We in Magdalene been looking out for this lighthouse for years. But if she comes with you, we’ll look out for you too.”
I stood there, immobile, and stared at him.
And I did this suddenly needing to cry.
He didn’t know me. He didn’t know my past. He didn’t know how stupid I’d been.
So unbelievably stupid.
He didn’t know.
So he couldn’t judge.
Maybe this could be a new chapter.
Maybe Patrick knew exactly what he was doing in a variety of ways.
I fought back the tears as he concluded, “And that’s not a gambit to get you to buy. You can’t know I’m telling you the truth until you put me to the test. But just to say, feel free to do that. You’ll learn soon enough.”
I tore my eyes from him and blinked at the landscape, taking in a deep breath through my nose, recalling his name.
Robert.
Robert Colley.
“You wanna see the outbuildings now or you wanna go up and look at the lens?” he asked.
I wanted to look at the lens.
Then I wanted to go look at the outbuildings.
But I didn’t say either.
I looked again to him.