“Yes—yes, I am.” Wendy described her cottage, painting a pretty picture that she hoped wasn’t an exaggeration.
“It sounds wonderful. And I think I know exactly which cottage you’re referring to. When can I come see it?”
Wendy looked at the kitchen clock that she’d decorated with seashells. “I’m not ready to do this today.” She quickly explained that her son didn’t know how soon she wanted to sell the cottage. “I want to break it to him gently.”
“I understand.”
“And the house isn’t completely ready to be seen, I mean by a buyer. I want to finish staging it and—”
“Oh, these buyers won’t care about staging or even if it’s painted.”
Wendy felt disappointed. “Well, I care, and I’d like to finish what I started. I’ve always heard you get a higher price if the house looks better.”
“That’s generally true. But because there are no other beach cottages like yours on the market, you should get a very fair price.”
“Oh?” Wendy considered this. “So you’re saying this is a sellers’ market?”
“For you it is.”
“Well, that’s great. How about if you come by in a couple of days? I think I can have it ready by Friday.”
“Friday is fine. I’ll be optimistic and bring a realty contract with me.”
“Okay.” Wendy felt a sudden rush of nerves. Was she really doing this?
“I look forward to meeting you on Friday, Wendy.”
As she set down her phone, Wendy felt like someone had just knocked the wind out of her sails. Even her previously charming angels no longer interested her. Jackson would soon be home, and it was time to tell him. But how? To calm herself, Wendy decided to make an attempt at decorating the tree. First she strung the lights and then she hung her twelve sea angels. The effect was actually rather charming, but the big tree was in need of more ornaments, and she knew that pretty seashells, as well as more angels, would do the trick.
She was just going for another box of sand dollars when she heard Oliver barking in the kitchen, followed by the sound of young voices. “Mom!” Jackson called out. “I brought Taylor and Tessa home. Can we have a snack?”
“I’m in here,” she called back. Suddenly the three kids and dog burst into the living room.
“You put lights on my tree!” Jackson exclaimed. “It looks great. And angels! Wow, Mom, these are super cool. Did you make them?”
“Yes. And I’m about to make more. Maybe you kids could help.”
“Taylor and I want to go clamming,” Jackson told her.
“Clamming? In December?”
“Uncle Greg said he got clams just a few days ago,” Taylor explained. “I promised Mom I’d try to get some.”
“And I’ve always wanted to dig clams,” Jackson told Wendy.
“Then you should go for it.” Wendy nodded.
“But Tessa doesn’t want to,” Taylor said. “It’s pretty windy and cold out there. Do you think she could stay with you until we get back?”
“Maybe you’d like to make some sand dollar angels,” she said to Tessa.
“Yeah.” She nodded with wide eyes. “I wanna do that.”
“I do too,” Jackson assured her. “After we’re done clamming.”
“Me too,” Taylor said.
“Well, I hope you two don’t get frozen out there.” Wendy looked out the big window. “The weatherman says that nor’easter won’t be here until next week.”
“Cool.” Jackson’s eyes lit up. “I wanna see that.”
“Maybe we’ll have a white Christmas,” Taylor said hopefully.
Wendy cringed to think of a snowy drive back to Ohio. Her Subaru was a good winter car, but it really needed snow tires. Then again, if her cash buyers came through, she could easily afford new tires . . . or even a few nights at a really nice hotel. So much would change for her and Jackson once this cottage was sold.
“Hey, are these wings made from clam shells?” Taylor pointed to an angel.
“Yes. And if you see any clam shells on the beach, be sure to bring them back. I could use some more.”
“I see those all the time. We’ll bring back lots,” Taylor assured her.
“Now can we have a snack?” Jackson asked.
“Yes, of course. I just got groceries so there’s plenty to choose from in there. Why don’t you take care of your guests, Jackson?”
“Sure.” He nodded. “Thanks, Mom.”
While Jackson and the girls flocked into the kitchen, Wendy suddenly remembered her “cash buyer.” Hurrying out to the car to retrieve the bags from the hardware store, she was determined to wrap up the final fix-ups on her list. This cottage would look as good as possible when Sandi came. Maybe the buyers wouldn’t care if all the light switch covers and drawer knobs and miscellaneous hardware matched, but Wendy did. She wanted top dollar for this property. But as far as telling Jackson today . . . well, that would have to wait. Again.
thirteen
BY WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, Wendy had a whole army of angels and several other attractive shell items spread out around the house. And feeling rather clever and innovative, she had an idea. It was probably a long shot, but she thought it was worth a try. Especially for Jackson’s sake—she saw how much he loved his new school. What if she really could make a living in Seaside? What if Caleb was right about the potential in selling beach-style home décor items?
The things she’d created so far looked just as nice—maybe nicer—than those in the catalogues. She carefully set the mirror she’d labored over into a large box. The frame was a pleasant combination of interesting seashells, pretty stones, small pieces of smooth driftwood, and even a few sand dollars.
She’d planned to take this mirror back to Ohio with them. But if she could sell it, along with her other creations—and this was the long shot—perhaps it would be enough to keep her and Jackson in Seaside! She laid a tea towel over the mirror, layering a number of sand dollar angels and another tea towel. Not wanting to overwhelm Caleb, she’d decided against taking in all her recently made items, but she had taken photos and felt certain he’d be impressed. As she drove to town she felt hopeful. Even so, she said a prayer.
Her hope diminished slightly when she realized Caleb’s shop was closed. But seeing that She Sells Sea Shells was open, she decided to give that a try. Hopefully Ashley was in. Ashley had good taste and might appreciate Wendy’s craftsmanship. Wendy was barely through the door when she spied Crystal behind the counter. Ready to make a quick getaway, she turned to leave.
“Wendy.” Crystal’s tone was flat but too loud to ignore.
“Hey, Crystal.” Wendy grimaced.
“What can I do for you?”
“I, uh, I was hoping to see Caleb.”
“Weren’t we all.” Crystal emerged from behind the counter. As usual, her appearance was impeccable. “Caleb is on a business trip. Didn’t he mention that to you?”
“Come to think of it, he did say he hoped to deliver the dining room set this week. Is that what he’s doing?”
“Yes.” Crystal’s mouth twisted to one side. “I know that you’re interested in him, Wendy. I mean, most of the single women in town are.” She laughed, but not in a friendly way. “So it’s only fair to tell you that he’s pretty much a confirmed bachelor.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“He’s more married to his business than anything else.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Well, it only seemed fair for you to know.” Crystal pointed to the box in Wendy’s arms with a bored expression. “What have you got there? Not peddling your wares again, are you?”
“It was just something to show Caleb.” Wendy backed away.
“Let’s see.” Crystal removed the tea towel and made what looked like a smug smirk. “Well now, what have we here?”
“Those are Christmas ornaments,” Wendy said stiffly.
“Did little children make these?” She picked one up, frowning at
it.
“Actually, some were made by kids.”
“And did you honestly think we could sell something like this here?” She dangled the angel ornaments from her little finger with a look of total disdain.
“Oh, I didn’t know for sure. Although they do look better hanging from a tree with lights and—”
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t think Ashley would be interested.” She dropped the angel back into the box. “The Coltons, as you’ve probably noticed”—she waved a hand toward an elegant display of jewelry—“have exquisite taste. And no offense, Wendy, but these seem a little childish.” She dropped the towel back onto the box. “Sorry.”
Wendy muttered “that’s okay” as she hurried from the shop. She suspected that Crystal was not the least bit sorry and that she’d enjoyed embarrassing her. But Crystal was probably right—the sand dollar ornaments really did look childish and out of place in the sleek, stylish shop. Really, what had Wendy been thinking? Thankful that Caleb hadn’t been around to see her humiliation—or to deliver his own verdict, which she knew he would’ve done much more kindly—she got in her car and drove back home with fresh resolve. The cottage had to be sold.
For the next two days, while Jackson was at school, Wendy worked hard to get everything shipshape. The solution to her financial challenges was to stick to her original plan. Sell the cottage, return to Ohio, and be back at her job as promised shortly before Christmas. To that end, she did all she could to make the place sparkle and shine. She even set out the shell items she’d created as accent pieces. And when she was done, she felt the effect was truly charming.
On Friday afternoon, she’d just finished installing the red-and-blue bandana curtains and matching throw cushions in Jackson’s room when Sandi Atkins showed up. The cottage, in Wendy’s opinion, had never looked better. She almost couldn’t believe how much she and Jackson had accomplished with just two weeks and a very meager budget. And for the most part, it was done. As she hurried downstairs to open the front door, she felt a flush of pride.
She greeted Sandi and welcomed her into the house, starting the tour in the living room and explaining about the various improvements she and Jackson had made. Although Sandi was complimentary as she snapped photos, she was also good at pointing out things that still needed a little work. “The fireplace is lovely, but that mantel should be bigger—more prominent.” She pointed to the ancestor photos that Jackson had put up there. “And it’s usually better not to have family photos around when the buyers are looking. It’s a distraction.”
“Oh, yes, I know that. My son put those there.”
“Do you mind removing them for my photo? I really want to get this fireplace.”
“Not at all.” Wendy gathered the photos, watching as Sandi shot the room from various angles, primarily focusing on the view of the beach and the fireplace. “They’re going to like this.”
“And this is the kitchen.” Wendy stepped aside, explaining how they discovered original wood floors beneath the old vinyl.
“Nice, but this kitchen countertop is certainly dated,” Sandi said. “And the space is pretty small. But that won’t bother the buyers.”
“I know it’s old and small, but I think it’s kind of charming, you know, in a cottage sort of way.” Wendy tried not to sound too defensive. “But maybe that’s because I grew up with it.” She waved to the turquoise cabinets. “What do you think about this color?”
“Well, it’s certainly fun and cheery. I personally like it. And I love those Fiestaware dishes. However, the buyers probably won’t like it.”
“Oh? I suppose it could be repainted.”
“Yes . . . or something.” She went to the back door. “What’s out there?”
“The laundry porch.” Wendy pulled back the curtain. “The dog’s out there right now and I haven’t really had time to do anything to it . . . yet. But I’ve been wanting to paint it the same color as the bathroom and—”
“No, no, don’t bother with painting it. I’m sure the buyers won’t care.” She took some more shots of the kitchen. “I love that the kitchen window has an ocean view too. This house is really well placed on this lot. The buyers are going to love that.”
“Oh, good.” Wendy led her to the refurbished bathroom, explaining about fixing the dry rot.
“This is cute—and it’s a nice big bathroom.” Sandi took some photos. “But that shower needs to be upgraded. And the floor, well, Carrara marble would’ve been a good choice.”
“Albeit expensive.”
“These buyers have deep pockets. And they’ve been looking for a lovely vacation property for about a year now. This just might work.”
Wendy felt confused. If there was so much wrong, how could it work? But she continued the tour just the same, waiting as Sandi took photos and made comments—both good and bad. Good that the house had three bedrooms. Bad that they were so small. “Although I think a master suite could be created on the second floor,” she told Wendy. “That would be a great improvement.”
Finally they were back in the living room and Sandi looked quite pleased. “I really think this is going to work for them.”
“But so much is wrong.”
“Yes, but those were fixable things, Wendy.” Sandi pulled a contract from her briefcase. “I got this ready—just in case. It’s not a sales contract. Just a contract for my agency. Should we go over it now?”
Wendy told her they’d have to finish before Jackson got home, and they sat down and went over it. Wendy was keeping one eye on the clock and trying to pay attention. She was pleasantly surprised by the price Sandi felt was reasonable. “And your buyers are comfortable with that?” she asked. “I mean, in light of all the improvements you think they’d want to do?”
“Absolutely.” Sandi smiled. “It’s a bit unusual to sell a vacation house in the winter, but these buyers have been looking for a while. I’m sure they’ll be delighted to get this purchase tied up in time for Christmas.”
Wendy felt a little uneasy as she signed the Realtor contract. But she reminded herself this wasn’t the same as selling the house. It was simply the first step. “When do you think the buyers will come see it?”
“I’m hoping this weekend or early next week.” Sandi put her copy of the contract back in her briefcase. “Although I hear the weather is going to be rather nasty and they’ll be driving from Portland.”
“Oh.”
“But I’ll send them the photos and information—and we’ll see what they say.” She stood. “Perhaps they’ll trust me enough to buy it sight unseen.”
“Really?”
“It’s entirely possible. The most important thing to them is getting a great location and a solid home that can be improved without changing the footprint. This fits the bill perfectly.”
“It’s really a sweet old house.” Wendy felt a lump in her throat.
“Well, hopefully we’ll have it sold within the week.” Sandi shook her hand. “How does that sound?”
“Good.” Wendy forced a weak smile as she thanked her and walked her outside, waiting as Sandi took yet more photos. “I don’t want to rush you,” Wendy told her, “but my son will be here soon, and he still doesn’t know we’re selling this place yet.”
“Well, you better tell him by Thursday.” Sandi smiled brightly. “Because I’m 99 percent certain this house will be sold.” She waved to Wendy and hurried to her car. Wendy watched from the porch as Sandi drove away. She knew she’d made the right and responsible decision, that this was the grown-up thing to do. But why was it so hard to be an adult sometimes?
She was about to go into the house when she heard the hiss of the school bus brakes. Relieved that Sandi was gone, Wendy waved to Jackson as he ran up to the house. He held up his phone. “Caleb sent me a text, Mom.”
“Oh?” They went into the house.
“He wants me to help him in his woodshop tomorrow.”
“Really?”
Jackson read the message to her,
and sure enough, it sounded like he wanted an assistant. “Can I call him back and say yes?”
She shrugged. “I guess so.” She waited as Jackson talked to Caleb, and then he handed her the phone. “Hello?”
“I just want to make sure you were okay with this.” He explained how he needed a helper to do some hand-sanding on a number of small jobs. “I’m a little overwhelmed with several commissioned projects that need to be finished by Christmas—putting in some pretty long days. Anyway, I think an extra pair of hands might help. And I remembered how helpful Jackson was when I hung the Christmas lights.”
She looked at her son’s hopeful face. “Well, Jackson seems quite interested in helping you out and I’m fine with it.” It was quickly settled—she would drop him in town tomorrow morning and Caleb would bring him home in the afternoon.
Jackson had just put away his phone when Oliver started barking frantically on the back porch. Taylor was pounding on the back door. “We need help,” she told them with frightened eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Jackson asked.
“My mom. She’s really sick. I called Uncle Greg, but he hasn’t called back. And I’m scared.”
Wendy grabbed her coat and car keys. “Let’s take the car in case she needs to go to the doctor.”
They followed Taylor into the house to find Kara lying motionless on the sofa and Tessa standing beside her. “Kara?” Wendy asked. “Are you okay?”
Kara just groaned. “Sick,” she mumbled. “Sick . . . my stomach.”
“She’s been throwing up,” Taylor told Wendy. “A lot.”
Wendy didn’t know what to do, so she felt Kara’s forehead, which was cool and clammy. “Should we take you to the doctor? Or the hospital?”
“No, no.” Kara moaned. “Can’t afford it.”
“Do you know what made you sick?” Wendy hoped it wasn’t alcohol or a hangover, but knew that was a possibility.
“Bad food,” Kara said.
“What did you eat? Do you know?”
“Leftovers.”
“I bet she brought something home from work last night.” Taylor ran into the kitchen, then returned with a white take-out box. “Sometimes she brings food home.” She held out the box like evidence then sniffed it. “Some kind of fish, I think.”
A Christmas by the Sea Page 12