Chapter ONE (partial)

2009-11-01T12:26:00.000-08:00

They didn’t speak in the car. It was a distant silence. Neither thought to turn on the radio, Jack just drove with the determination of a man playing his last card in the high stakes game of marriage poker. Lois sat, her face blank and unmoving, while her thoughts traveled to dark, sad places. After so many years, neither could read each other - or they read each other too well, and the troubles in their marriage devastated them. And so they drove the six hours to Westover.

Lois broke the silence “I have a meeting early Monday morning.” declaring the weekend was already over.

Jack drew in a deep breath, “You’ll love the place – really. It is just the kind of project you used to…” he realized that he was in treacherous waters, and stopped mid-sentence.

Lois laid her head against the passenger’s window pulling as far away from her husband as she could. “I used to, I used to, I used to…. We used to… a lot of things.” Her words hung in the air, and again, they drove on in silence.

Jack turned off the highway onto a picturesque coastal road; slowly the houses seemed to grow larger and larger as the road became more rustic. They passed the sign for Seal Harbor, the SUV climbed up a winding hill into the scrub pines, where summer “Cottages” of a bygone era stood watch over the Atlantic. For a century, this enclave of understated wealth and power was the summer retreat for academics, theologians, politicians and numerous titans of industry.

When Jack turned into the crushed seashell drive that led to Westover, he started telling Lois what history he knew of the place, “The stones and the masons who did the work were brought over from Austria in 1908. It was built as the summer home for the Austrian ambassador. Then it was bought by the Marsters family. It was the grandson who put it up for auction. I don’t know why he let it get into such rough shape he could have sold it years ago when the market was robust. It’s got great bones.”

The SUV was now in the circular drive, and the whole house was in view. It was a massive stone and shingle two story cottage. The house was world weary, decades of Maine weather and recession had worked it over like a prize fighter.

Lois spoke sadly “Is it possible to feel sorry for a house?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Jack turned to his wife. They locked eyes for a second, and then Lois turned away and got out of the truck. The seashells crunched under her footsteps.

Stepping quickly to his wife’s side, he took her elbow and tried to build some excitement, “Comeon, let’s go through the formal entrance.” She didn’t pull away. And he continued his sales pitch, “this would have been great for entertaining. You see, this round driveway is a perfect path to the carriage house. The drivers could drop the party goers off and then disappear to the carriage house.” Together they walked to a round portico on the west wing of the house.

Lois looked to see that Jack was right; it was a circular drive that’s center was completely filled by trees and underbrush. The stand of woods was on purpose, to hide the carriage house. Lois had thought that it was just overgrowth, although part of it was, because the thicket was so dense, but it had a real purpose. Lois was intrigued and silently asked herself. “Why plant a forest in the middle of a driveway?”

Stepping up the granite steps to the portico entrance, through the shadows of the tall pines looming over them, they could see bright sunlight glistening on the water.

Lois stopped to see the view of Southwest Harbor on the other side of the portico. It was breathtaking, in stark contrast to the dark approach of the driveway. “This isn’t the front of the house?” She was disoriented. “I thought this was cheap because it didn’t have a view of the Atlantic.”

“I wouldn’t call a million two point five cheap. This is the back of the house. Just wait.” Jack was happy. She was taking an interest. He picked up his step and pulled open a dilapidated aluminum screen door, “This will be the first thing to go.” He then fiddled with the padlock on the massive double oak doors. They stepped into the acrid, dusty front hall. There was a relief map of Mount Desert Island tilting precariously from a nail over a chintz sofa whose dust sheet had been shredded by time and small animals. Yet, the whole western wall was a giant window, and through the dust and decay, the view welcomed them and brightened the room.

Lois was enchanted. She wandered through the rooms. She sat on a window seat next to a voiceless grand piano, gazing around, and then her eyes fixated on a door that was half open. She got up and silently walked to the door as if looking for someone or something; she opened the door, and then walked into the game room. Jack knew to leave her alone. He watched her from a distance, just as he watched her walk into his life 10 years before.

She was fearless then. Their first date was in Central Park. She was new to New York, and she got lost, Lois always got lost. She was so easily distracted. That day, he leaned his tall lanky frame against a railing and watched her slowly wander. She wasn’t looking for him, but he saw her. And when she finally noticed him, her face lit up and her smile was infectious. That was when he knew.

Breaking the silence of his memory, Lois called to him as she was walking back from her peek into the games room “Jack, let’s go upstairs.”

He walked to her side, and she grabbed his hand. Together, they ascended the formal staircase and explored the second floor, walking from bedroom to bedroom. Eight in all, and then they stopped at a door by the East Wing. Lois dropped his hand, “What’s this?”

“Servant’s staircase, it goes from the kitchen to the attic” Jack opened the door and it fell off its hinges. “I guess iron hinges do rust” he laughed as he lifted the door to the side.

“This is gonna cost a fortune to fix” Lois looked at the door.

“But you agree it is worth fixing?” Jack was tentative.

“I couldn’t bear a failure.” The sadness was back in her voice. “I’ll interview contractors. You’ve got the survey?” Lois was firm. “We’re talking rehab, no demo, no additions, right?”

“No additions, no demo, just bringing it back to what it was, with some improvements.” Jack was looking at his wife’s face, searching.

Together they climbed the creaky stairs to the attic. It was hot and the air was thick. The wood was plain, no paint, just wood, like a sauna. Lois surveyed the open space. “What’s that?” She asked pointing to two rooms at the far side of the attic.

“Servant’s quarters” Jack followed her as she walked to the two small rooms.

“People slept up here? With tiny windows that barely open? In the summer?” Lois was appalled. “It is like an oven.”

As they stepped into the smallest room, Lois walked to a pile of debris in the corner. She started digging through it, facing the wall, on its side, was an oil paining. Lois flipped it over and stood back in horror. “This is someone who would make people live in these conditions.” The picture was of a suited, heavy set bald man with an evil glint in his eye. It was shockingly grim, even though the subject was sitting at a desk, looking important for this formal painting.

“Old Man Marsters I guess” Jack took the painting out of her hands. “Looks like someone wanted him to spend eternity in the attic.”

“That picture freaks me out.” Lois took it and set it on the floor, facing the wall. “Really, who would hang that anywhere?”

Suddenly, Lois wanted to get out of the attic. She wanted to open some windows, and she wanted to clean away all the cobwebs. "Meet me in the kitchen, I have some Ideas about what to do with the Pantry. That attic is all yours!" Lois's voice grew more and more distant as she took the stairs two at a time, fleeing the attic and leaving Jack in the dust.