Дэвид Балдаччи - One Summer

“Let me get down to business.” Baxter drew a document out of a file. “This is Ms. Cecilia’s last will and testament.”

“Look, if she left me anything, I really don’t feel that I should accept it.”

Baxter peered at him over the document. “And why is that?”

“It’s sort of complicated.”

“Well, she made this change to her will very recently. She told me that even if you never used it, it would always be there for you.”

“Well, what is it exactly?” Jack said curiously.

“The old Pinckney house on the South Carolina coast in a town called Channing.”

“The Palace, you mean?”

“That’s right. So you know about it?”

“Lizzie told me about it. But I’ve never been there. Once she moved to Ohio she never went back.”

“Now, let me warn you that while it’s right on the beach, it’s not in good condition. It’s a big, old, rambling place that has never been truly modernized. But it’s in a lovely location. The coastal low country is uniquely beautiful. And I say that with all the bias of a proud South Carolinian. Ms. Cecilia told me that you’re very good with your hands. I believe she thought you were the perfect person to take care of it.”

“Beachfront? I couldn’t afford the real estate taxes.”

“There are none. Years ago Ms. Cecilia placed the property into a conservancy so it could never be sold and developed. She and her descendants can use the property but can never sell it. In return the taxes were basically waived.”

“But we’ve got a home in Cleveland. The kids are in school.”

“Ms. Cecilia thought that you might have some trepidation. But since most of the summer is still ahead of us, the issue of school does not come into play.”

Jack sat back. “Okay. I see that. But I still don’t think—”

Baxter interrupted. “And Cecilia said that you told her that Lizzie was thinking of taking the kids there this summer.”

“That’s right, Lizzie was. She told me that. I thought it was a good idea but...” Jack’s voice trailed off. He’d made Lizzie promise him that she would take the kids to the Palace. Now she couldn’t.

Baxter fingered the will and studied him. “Would you like to see it before you make up your mind?”

“Yes, I would,” Jack said quickly.

Less than two hours after leaving Royce Baxter’s office, Jack and the kids pulled down a sandy drive between overgrown bushes after following the directions the lawyer had given him. He surveyed the landscape. There were marshes nearby, and the smell of the salt water was strong, intoxicating.

“Wow!” said Cory as the old house finally came into view.

Jack pulled the VW to a stop, and they all climbed out. Jack took Jackie’s hand as they walked up to the front of the house, which was shaded by two large palmetto trees. It was an elongated rambling wood-sided structure, with a broad, covered front porch that ran down three-quarters of the home’s face. A double door of solid wood invited visitors to the entrance. The wood siding was faded and weathered but looked strong and reliable to Jack’s expert eye. The hurricane shutters were painted black, but most of the paint was gone, leaving the underlying wood exposed to the elements. Five partially rotted steps carried them up to the front entrance.

The furniture on the porch was covered. When Jack and the kids looked underneath, they found quite the mess, along with animal nests. One squirrel jumped out and raced up a support post and onto the roof, which had many missing shingles, Jack had already noted. A snake slid out from under a pile of wood, causing the older kids to scream and run. Jackie approached the serpent and attempted to pick it up before Jack snatched him away. He looked at the other kids, who were cowering by the VW.

“It’s a black snake. Not poisonous, but it will bite, so stay clear of it.” He watched as the snake slowly made its way down the steps and into the underbrush around the house.

“They don’t have giant snakes in Cleveland,” said a breathless Cory.

“It was only a three-footer, son. And there are snakes in Ohio.”

That information did not seem to make Cory feel any better.

“Come on,” said Jack. “Let’s at least check it out while we’re here.”

Using the key Baxter had given him, he opened the front door and went inside with Jackie. He turned to check on the other two kids. They hadn’t budged from next to the VW. “Remember, guys, that snake is out there with you , not in here with us.”

A moment later, the two kids flew up the front steps and past their dad into the house, with Cory screaming and looking behind him for the “giant freaking snake.”

Jackie and his father exchanged a glance.

Jackie pointed at his brother and said, “Corwee funny.”

“Yeah, he’s a riot,” said Jack, shaking his head.

Inside, the spaces were open and large, with high, sloped ceilings where old fans hung motionless. The kitchen was spacious but poorly lighted by tiny windows, and the bathrooms were few in number and small. There was an enormous stone fireplace that reached to the ceiling in the main living area, a big table for dining that showed a lot of wear and tear, and several other rooms that served various purposes, including a laundry room and a small library. On the lower level were an old billiards table, its green felt surface worn smooth with use, and a Ping-Pong table with a tattered net. Water toys, flippers, flattened beach balls, and the like were stacked in a storage room.

The furniture was old but mostly in good shape. The floors were random-width plank, the walls solid plaster. Jack knocked on one section and came away impressed with the craftsmanship. Yet when he stepped toward the back of the house, he drew in a breath. The rear of the house was mostly windows and glass doors; there was also a second-floor screened-in porch with stairs leading down to the ground. The view out was of the wide breadth of the Atlantic, maybe two hundred feet away, the sandy beach less than half that distance.

Jack breathed in the sea air and pointed out to the ocean. “There’s really not a drop of land between here and Europe or Africa,” he said. “Just water.”

As the kids stared out at the views, Jack looked down at the backyard. It was sandy, with dunes covered in vegetation. He stepped back inside and smelled the burned wood of fires from long ago.

They clumped upstairs and looked through the shotgun line of bedrooms there, none of them remarkable, but all functional. Where others might have seen limitations, builder Jack saw potential. All the bedrooms had views of the ocean, and the largest one had a small outdoor balcony as well.

“What do you think is up there?” This came from Mikki, who was pointing to a set of stairs at the end of the hall going up another half flight.

“Attic, I suppose,” he said.

Jack eased open the door and fumbled for a light switch. Nothing happened when he flicked it, and it occurred to him that the power had been turned off when the place became uninhabited. The room was under the eaves of the house, and the ceiling slanted upward to a peak. It was large, with two windows that threw in good morning light, though now the sun had passed over the house and was going down. There was a bed, an old wrought-iron four-poster, a large wooden desk, a shelf filled with books, and an old trunk set in one corner. A door led to a closet that was empty. Jack stepped cautiously over the floor planks to test their safety.

“Okay,” he said after his inspection was complete. “Explore.”

Cory made a beeline for the trunk, while Jack led his youngest over to the desk and helped him open drawers. He glanced back at Mikki, who hadn’t budged from the doorway.