Page 18 of The Treasure House

I inhaled deeply. The scent of salt and pine and the heady perfume of overgrown lilac was intoxicating.

“I can’t see any ocean; all I can see is more jungle.” Flo leaned through the window.

It was true. The view was obscured by the tangle of vines and bushes.

“Oh look, there’s a porch swing out here too!” Flo pointed at the wooden swing, which had flaked off most of its white paint.

“When the garden’s cut back, there’s a real nice view from that swing down to the bay,” Jake said, trying to tie back a heavy tasseled curtain that was sagging off its rail.

“How can you tell?” I leaned through the window too, trying to catch the glitter of the water through the tangle of greenery. “The agent said there was a glimpse of the ocean from upstairs, but she didn’t say anything about a view from down here.”

“I grew up on this street. I’ve seen it. Gail probably didn’t realize, because of, uh, the jungle.” Jake gave up on the curtain and it sagged back over the window. “We’d best get moving. The day’s getting on.” He shut the windows, and the mustiness closed back in on us.

We could barely get into the dining room for all the junk, but I could see it was a mirror image of the parlor, only there was also an old wooden serving hatch that opened to the kitchen. Flo thought that was the best thing about the place. “You can slide my cereal in here to me in the morning,” she told me, as she leaned through the hatch. “And I can talk to you while you cook.”

I ignored that.

“Are any of these valuable, do you think?” I eyed a stack of paintings near the fireplace.

Again, Jake shrugged. “My guess would be that some are and some aren’t. Some probably just had sentimental value.”

“Are there any precious gemstones in this place?” Flo asked curiously. “Gold coins or doubloons or anything?”

“I think I saw some costume jewelry and a penny collection upstairs,” said Jake. “And there’s a framed map of colonial Maine around somewhere—that’s kind of interesting.”

“Does it have a guide to buried treasure?”

“I’ve never looked.”

“You didn’t notice an X on it or anything?”

Jake humored Flo all the way up the staircase, grunting in acknowledgment as she chattered about pirates and secret stashes of buried treasure.

“But you know if you found pirate treasure it probably wouldn’t be what you expect,” she told him sagely. “It would be things like cocoa and spices and stuff. They used to be worth more than gold, you know.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff? Were you a pirate in a past life?”

“Maybe. But in this life, I know because I read books.”

There was another round leaded window at the head of the landing. Light fell through it, ruddy with dust, down to the hall below. I paused, trying to imagine the hall without the junk. The boarded-up front door was framed by two thin windows to either side and a window above. The house would swim in light with all these windows cleaned.

The hall ceiling soared up to the landing of the second story, so even though the space was small it felt expansive. I felt a quivery feeling in my stomach as the hall swam before me, and I could see it as it once had been: the front door open to catch the flirtatious eddies of breeze, sun warming the wood floor, the walls bright with lovingly chosen wallpaper, the air scented with sea salt and garden flowers and the smell of something baking in the kitchen.

I could learn to bake. I imagined Flo and me in that kitchen, sifting flour and dancing along to her latest playlist.

My heart pinched at the thought.

Never in a million years did I think that I could live in a house like this, with sea views and gardens on every side. That I could sit on my porch and watch the seasons pass in my garden and see the mood of the ocean shift with the scudding weather. Flo could climb trees and swim in the ocean and do her homework while I read by the fire. Disconcerted, I realized I was tearing up. I swallowed and suppressed the visions. I was getting ahead of myself.

“The master bedroom is at the front of the house.” Jake’s voice pulled me back to the task at hand—and to the oppressive sight of all the junk choking the stairs. I joined Jake and Flo on the modest landing, which was as cluttered as the stairs and hallway below. “There’s a bathroom here on the left, and a linen cupboard on the right. Then two attic bedrooms at the rear, overlooking the back garden.” Jake pointed.

“Cool!” Flo climbed over plastic bags to get to the back rooms. “I call the best one of the attic rooms.”

I followed Flo. The attic rooms had steeply sloped roofs and dormer windows. The shiplap walls might once have been white but were now grayish brown. We opened the door to the room on the left first but couldn’t get past the threshold because there were clothes racks filling every inch of the room. It was like trying to climb into an overstuffed wardrobe. The clothes seemed to be from every era imaginable: mini dresses in lurid seventies colors, puffy skirts, peacoats and ratty fur stoles and cotton sundresses. There was even a yellowing wedding dress hanging on the end of a rack, with a little cap and veil perched on the top.

“Can I have these to play dress-ups?” Flo asked, reaching for the veil.

“Not until we check for vermin.” I rethought that. “And no. Because if we keep it all, you’ll have nowhere to sleep.”