Veronica turned right onto Gilroy Road. The GPS announced, “Your destination is on the left.”
“What?” she said aloud. “Where the heck is the cabin?”
She backed up cautiously until she saw what passed for a driveway. It was more of a suggestion of a driveway than an actual one.
Two narrow ruts made by tire tracks in the dirt with grass growing in between. The rusty metal poles marking the entrance were barely visible. Equally rusty chains displaying a weatherbeaten sign indicating the existence of the private drive lay swallowed in the undergrowth near one of the poles.
The chain is down. The contractor must be here already.
She made a mental note to add “driveway” to the list of repairs. Why her mom wanted to keep Great Uncle Herbert’s cabin in the middle of nowhere was a mystery. She could sell the three acres and invest the proceeds or buy a nice condo in Florida or Arizona. New Mexico and North Carolina were becoming popular states to retire in. Why not choose somewhere warm?
Veronica barely knew Herbert and Wendy Collins, her great uncle and great aunt, though her mother regularly corresponded with them. She remembered visiting their house in Pittsburgh a few times, but never the cabin. Wendy passed two years ago from breast cancer, and Herbert died last month. Her mother insisted he died of a broken heart.
He and Wendy never had children of their own, so Herbert left everything to his favorite niece.
As her car bumped along the seemingly endless driveway, Veronica imagined how decrepit the old cabin must be. Her mother’s childhood memories of spending summers with her aunt and uncle at their King’s Mountain cabin in Western Pennsylvania made it seem like a paradise.
“More like paradise lost,” she muttered pleased with the literary pun. She was so focused on keeping her tires in line with the ruts that she didn’t look around at the wildflowers growing in the woods or the mix of stately oak, maple, pine, and birch trees. The windows were up and the radio was on, so she didn’t hear the birds chirping or the squirrels chittering warnings about a stranger’s approach. She missed seeing the mother deer and her fawns scamper away at the sound of her approach.
At last, she came to a clearing in front of a wooden cabin with a small, detached garage off to the side.
The paint was peeling on the shutters and the wraparound porch. Flower boxes in various states of disrepair hung precariously to the porch railing.
A man leaned against a white truck bearing the name and logo for Baxter Construction.
He was tall and built like a tank wearing a white t-shirt and jeans.
“You must be Ronni,” he said as he walked toward her car.
Veronica stepped out and corrected him. “It’s Veronica, Veronica Taylor, and you must be Mr. Baxter.” She extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Apologies. Herb always called you Ronni. He talked about Debbie’s kids all the time. I’m Neil, by the way. We aren’t very formal out here.”
“I didn’t realize you knew him. I guess it makes sense. According to his attorney, my great uncle bequeathed a sum of money for repairs with the stipulation they be completed by Baxter Construction. Did you ever meet my mom?”
“Hell yes, I grew up in the next cabin over. Deb and I used to catch salamanders in the creek. We swam in the lake out back. Got my first kiss from your mom.” He paused for a moment with a faraway look in his eyes as if he were reliving that kiss; then he laughed. “Don’t mention that to my wife Missy when she drops dinner off later.”
Veronica laughed and held up three fingers, “Scout’s honor.”
There was something about him that put her at ease.
“I didn’t realize the cabin was still livable. I have a reservation in town. Please tell your wife not to bother with dinner.”
“Cancel your reservation. The exterior of the cabin’s a little rough looking. We had some bad storms this winter, but she’s beautiful inside and solid as a rock. The plumbing and electrical lines are all up to date. Missy aired her out and gave her a good scrub when she heard you were coming. She even left you a welcome basket of goodies complete with the addresses of local shops and places you might want to visit. Knowing her, she’s already started cooking.”
Veronica took a deep breath noticing for the first time how different the air was from city air. She inhaled deeply. The fresh scents of pine and wild hyacinth filled her lungs.
Neil smiled. “Smells good up her, doesn’t it? You’re gonna love it once you’ve had the chance to look around.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely, but I’m just here as a favor to my mom. She needed someone to come up and meet with you to get the repairs started. Honestly, I’m not sure why she’s so determined to keep this place in the family. My brother Tim and my sister Amy think she should sell it.”
“What do you think?’
“I’m trying to keep an open mind. Maybe I should have a look inside and discuss the cost of the exterior repairs before I answer your question.”
Neil blushed. “Of course, let me show you around.” He gestured toward the front door and handed her a set of keys. “I unlocked the front door earlier, but you’ll need these keys. My son Isaac and I have copies which we’ll return to you after the repairs are completed.”
Veronica opened the door and gasped. The slate entryway flowed into the Great room consisting of a cozy living and dining space separated by a double-sided stone fireplace open to a large kitchen with a butcherblock island and countertops. The walls were a watery blue. Wood beams jutted across the cathedral ceiling.
A hallway led to a small powder room, three bedrooms, and a large bathroom. The bedrooms weren’t large, but sliding glass doors in each room led to the wrap-around porch or the back deck which was partially screened in to keep pesky mosquitoes and other insects away.
Veronica got her first glimpse of the lake and the surrounding countryside. There were rolling hills covered in wildflowers and rocky wooded areas leading up the mountainside. It wasn’t what she expected. Who knew so much beauty and wonder could coexist in one spot?
She opened one of the doors and walked onto the deck. It was almost as if something beyond her control was pulling her toward the water as she headed down the steps and out to the dock. Neil watched with a smile but didn’t follow.
Veronica stood at the water’s edge until she was startled by the sound of a man’s voice. “Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.”
She turned around slowly. “What?”
“It’s my favorite quote by E.B. White. ‘Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.’ It comes to mind every time I look across the lake. I’m Neil’s son, Isaac. I’ll be helping my dad work on your cabin. I just bought my own cabin on the other side of the lake. The view’s just as good from over there in case you were wondering.”
“That’s good to know. I’m Ronni, by the way. I can see why my mom fell in love with this place. I think I will, too.”
Frances Joyce is the editor, publisher and head writer for This Awful Awesome Life. She is the author of three books, Dancing in the Rain, His Life’s Story, and Everything in Between.