"The first thing we should do," Daniel said as he followed her down the path, "is get the plywood off the windows." He was holding his metal toolbox, swinging it as he walked.
"Actually, I really just want to get the old furniture out," Emily replied, frustrated that Daniel was already assuming the position of boss.
"You want to spend every day sitting in synthetic light when the sun's finally coming out?" Daniel asked. His question wasn't so much a question as a statement, though, and the subtext was that she was an idiot for wanting to do otherwise. His words reminded Emily a little of her dad, of the way he wanted her to enjoy the Maine sunshine rather than sit cooped up watching TV all day. As much as it pained her to admit it, Daniel did have a point.
"Fine," she said, relenting.
Emily remembered how her first attempt at removing the plywood had resulted in her smashing the window and nearly breaking her neck, and she was grudgingly relieved to have Daniel on board to help.
"Let's start in the living room," she said, trying to gain some control back over the situation. "It's where I spend most of my time."
"Sure."
There was nothing else to say, the conversation extinguished thoroughly by Daniel, and so they walked silently into the house, along the corridor, and into the living room. Daniel wasted no time setting the toolbox down and searching for his hammer.
"Hold the plank like this," he said, showing her how to support the weight of it. Once she was in position, he began popping the nails out with the clawed end of his hammer. "Wow, the nails are completely rusted."
Emily watched a nail fall to the floor and hit it with a thud. "Is this going to damage the floorboards?"
"Nope," Daniel replied, his focus completely on the task at hand. "But once we get some natural light in here it is going to show up how damaged the floorboards already are."
Emily groaned. She hadn't factored the cost of getting the floorboards sanded into her budget. Maybe she could rope Daniel into doing that as well?
Daniel popped the last nail and Emily felt the weight of the plywood drop against her body.
"Got it?" he asked, one hand still pushing the board against the sill, taking as much of the weight off her as possible.
"I've got it," she replied.
He let go and Emily staggered back. Whether it was her determination not to show herself up in front of Daniel again or something else, Emily managed not to drop the board, or whack it against anything, or generally make a fool of herself. She lowered it gently to the floor then stood up and clapped her hands.
The first shard of light burst in through the window and Emily gasped. The room looked beautiful in the sunlight. Daniel was right; sitting around in the electric light rather than the natural light would have been criminal. Starting with the windows was a great idea.
Enthused by their success, Emily and Daniel worked through the downstairs of the house, revealing window after window, letting the natural light fill the place. In most of the rooms the windows were massive floor to ceiling things, bespoke, clearly created especially for the house. In some place they were rotten or damaged by insects. Emily knew it would cost a lot to replace custom-made frames and tried not to think about it.
"Let's do the windows in the ballroom before we head upstairs," Emily said. The windows in the main part of the house were beautiful enough, but something told her the ones in the abandoned wing would be even better.
"There's a ballroom?" Daniel asked, as she showed him into the dining room.
"Uh-huh," she replied. "It's in here."
She drew the tapestry back, revealing the door behind, reveling in the look on Daniel's face. He was usually so stoic, so difficult to read, that she couldn't help but feel a small thrill at having caused him to experience shock. Then she opened the door and shone a flashlight inside the room, illuminating the vastness of it.
"Whoa," Daniel gasped, ducking his head so as not to hit the beam and gaping into the room. "I didn't even know this part of the house existed."
"I didn't either," Emily said, beaming, glad to share the secret with someone. "I can hardly believe it was hidden here all those years."
"It was never used at all?" Daniel asked.
She shook her head. "Not to my recollection. But someone used it once upon a time." She shone the light directly at the heap of furniture in the middle of the room. "As a dumping ground."
"What a waste," Daniel said. For the first time since Emily had met him, he seemed to be expressing genuine emotion. The sight of the hidden room was as mind-blowing to him as it had been to her.
They stepped inside and Emily watched as Daniel paced around in much the same way as she had when she'd first discovered the room.
"And you want to throw this all out?" Daniel said over his shoulder as he inspected the dust-covered items. "I bet some of this is antique. Expensive."
The irony of a room filled with antiques hidden in the house of an antiques enthusiast did not pass Emily by. She again wondered whether her dad knew about the room. Had he been the one to fill it with furniture? Or had it been like this when he bought the place? It just didn't make sense.
"I guess so," she replied. "But I wouldn't even know where to begin. I mean, you can see what I mean about there being some big pieces of furniture that I wouldn't be able to lift on my own. How would I go about selling it? Finding dealers?" That was her dad's world, a world she'd never really understood or had much enthusiasm for.
"Well," Daniel said, eyeing the grandfather clock. "You have Internet now, don't you? You could do some research. It would be a shame just to throw it all out."
Emily considered what he was saying, and was struck by one particular detail. "How did you know I had Internet?"
Daniel shrugged. "I saw the truck is all."
"I didn't realize you were paying such close attention to me," Emily replied with an air of faux-suspicion.
"Don't flatter yourself," came Daniel's dry response, but Emily noted that there was a wry smile on his lips. "We'd better get this stuff out of the way then," he added, breaking through her reverie.
"Yeah, great," she replied, snapping back to reality.
Daniel and Emily got to work removing the plywood from the windows. But unlike the windows in the main part of the house, when they got the plywood down and out of the way, the window that had been hidden beneath was made of beautiful Tiffany glass.
"Wow!" Emily cried, completely in awe as the room filled with different colors. "This is incredible!"
It was like stepping into a dreamland. The room was suddenly bathed in pinks, greens, and blues as the daylight rushed in through the window.
"I'm sure if my dad knew these windows were here he would have had this part of the house opened up," Emily added. "These are an antiquer's dream come true."
"They're pretty amazing," Daniel said, eyeing them in a practical way, admiring their intricate construction and the way the glass pieces fit together.
Emily felt like dancing. The light streaming through the window was so beautiful, so breathtaking, it made her feel carefree, as though she were made of air. If it looked this gorgeous in the winter sunshine, she couldn't begin to imagine how amazing this room would look once the bright summer sun was streaming through those windows.
"We should take a break," Emily said. They'd both been working for hours and this seemed a good a time to stop as any. "I could make us some food."
"Like a date?" Daniel said, shaking his head jokingly. "No offense, but you're not my type."
"Oh?" Emily said, joking along with him. "And what is your type?"
But Emily didn't get a chance to hear Daniel's response. Something had fluttered out from the ledge of the window, where it must have been lodged for years, and it had caught her attention. All the laughing and joking of a moment earlier disappeared, fading around her, as all her attention zoned in on the square piece of paper on the floor. A photograph.
Emily picked it up. Though it was aged, weathered, with mildew on the back, the photo itself wasn't particularly old. It was in color, though the colors had faded over time. A lump lodged in Emily's throat as she realized she was holding a photo of Charlotte.
"Emily? What's wrong?" Daniel was saying, but she could hardly hear him. Her breath had been stolen by the sudden sight of Charlotte's face, a face she hadn't seen for over twenty years. Unable to stop herself, Emily began to cry.
"It's my sister," she choked out.
Daniel peered over her shoulder at the photo in her trembling fingers.
"Here," he said, suddenly gentle. "Let me get that for you."
He reached out and took it from her grasp, then led her back out of the room, an arm around her shoulders. Emily let him guide her into the living room, too stunned to protest. The shock of seeing Charlotte's face had hypnotized her.
Emily, still crying, looked away from Daniel.
"I…I think maybe you should leave now."
"Okay," Daniel said. "As long as you're all right alone."
She stood up from the stool and gestured for Daniel to head toward the door. He watched her cautiously as though weighing whether it was safe to leave her in that state, but finally he collected up his tool box and headed for the door.
"If you need anything," he said on the threshold, "just call."
Unable to speak, she shut the door on Daniel then turned and pressed her back against it, feeling her breaths come in great shuddering gasps. She sank down to her knees, feeling darkness crowding in around her, wanting to curl up and die.
*
It was only the sudden shrill sound of her cell phone ringing that snapped her out of the horrible, suffocating sensation. Emily looked around, unsure how long she'd been curled up in a ball on the floor.
She looked up from her crumpled heap and saw her cell phone on the little table by the door blinking and vibrating. She stood up and saw, with surprise, Ben's name flashing up at her. She stared at the phone for a moment, watching it flash, watching his name fill the screen just as it had done a thousand times in the past. It was so normal, those three little letters, BEN, but suddenly so foreign, and so, so wrong in this house, at this moment, after seeing Charlotte's face, after being with Daniel all day.
Emily reached out and declined the call.
No sooner had the screen turned to black than it lit up again. This time it wasn't Ben's name, but Amy's.
Emily snatched the phone up, relieved for the lifeline.
"Amy," she gasped. "I'm so glad you called."
"You don't even know what I'm going to say," her friend quipped.
"I don't care. You could read the phone book for all I care. I'm just glad to hear your voice."
"Well," Amy said, "I do have something exciting to tell you actually."
"You do?"
"Yes. You know how we always used to talk about living in that converted church in the Lower East Side, and how awesome it would be?"
"Uh-huh," Emily said, not knowing where this was going.
"Well," Amy said, her tone sounding as though she were gearing up for a big reveal, "we totally can! The two-bed has just come on the rental market and we can totally afford it."
Emily paused, letting the information filter into her mind. When Amy and Emily had been students in New York, they'd constructed a whole fantasy about living in the converted church, surrounded by all the cool bars in the Lower East Side that they loved to frequent. But that had been back when they were in their twenties. That wasn't Emily's dream anymore. She'd moved on.
"But I'm happy here," Emily said. "I don't want to come back to New York."
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. "You mean, ever?" Amy finally said.
"I mean for at least six months. Until my savings run out. Then I'll have to make other arrangements."
"What, like sleeping on my sofa again?" A hint of hostility had crept into Amy's tone.
"I'm sorry, Amy," Emily said, feeling deflated. "It's just not what I want anymore."
She heard her friend sigh. "You're really staying there?" she said finally. "In Maine? In a creepy old house? Alone?"
Emily realized then how strongly she felt about staying, how completely right it felt to her. And saying it aloud to Amy had made it completely real.
She took a deep breath, feeling confident and grounded for the first time in years. Then she stated simply, "Yes. I am."
3 months later
