Eyes at the Window Read Free Page B

well.
    The stove and refrigerator were ancient and everything was covered in dust. None of the light switches worked, which confirmed her thought that the electricity had not been turned on as expected. No water flowed when she turned on the tap. Hopefully that just meant the pump in the well was electric-driven and not an indication of a more complicated and expensive problem.
    The dining room seemed the best room in which to begin restoration. Once she had it and the kitchen cleaned up, those two rooms could serve as her living space while she took her time going through the rest of the two-story house. The two rooms combined would even provide more square footage than her tiny little condo in the city had.
    She put off her exploration of the second floor when she saw the clutter that made the stairway look like an obstacle course. She also decided against investigating the basement for right now. The narrow steps off the kitchen not only descended into an inky blackness but was also lined along the walls with live spider webs.
    The dining room fireplace would provide comfort and warmth. When she removed the cover and checked the flue, it appeared to be in decent repair. She found a stack of dry logs and kindling in a mud room off the kitchen and carried in an armful of the wood. Squatting on the hearth, she built a fire. Once the flames danced in the grate the damp began to drain away. Miranda found herself feeling more cheerful, rummaging through the items cluttered around the room with some interest.
    There were tall bay windows surrounding a window seat. Miranda seemed to remember that they had once been draped with heavy velvet panels but they were bare of coverings now and the strengthening sunlight made warm patterns on the dark wood of the window seat. Much of the furniture from the rest of the house appeared to be stacked in this room. She found two bedsteads upended against the wall, five end tables, and several straight chairs. A dozen crates were filled with everything from books to candles to clothes.
    Rufus was enjoying his unusual freedom, first snuffling among the smells in the house, then rushing outdoors to investigate the many scents he found there, then coming back inside to see what he had missed. Twice she had to shout out the window at him to quit barking. Squirrels, no doubt. He loved barking at squirrels.
    The dining room table and matching chairs looked like antiques. She found a dishrag in one of the boxes and dusted them as best she could. On her shopping list she put “furniture polish” near the top, along with curtains and dust mop.
    One crate she opened contained carefully wrapped knickknacks which Miranda remembered from her childhood. She exclaimed with delight as she took out a porcelain angel she remembered as being one of her favorites. She put the rosy-cheeked cherub in the center of the dining table where it watched Miranda’s housekeeping efforts with a smile of approval.
    Under one of the sheets, she found a sofa in good repair, though slightly musty smelling. Clearing a path through the boxes in the kitchen, she dragged it out to the porch to air off. The gray clouds had drifted away, leaving clean white tails streaked across the blue sky. Rufus had returned from the orchard to dig a hole under the depths of the porch, but hopped onto the sofa when he saw it, settling into a patch of sun on the corner. Tired despite the fact that it was still only mid-morning, Miranda sat at the other end, sighing.
    This morning her decision to come here did not look as questionable as it had last night. From where she sat, she could see the tire swing she used play on still hanging from the cherry tree in the orchard. The sun had begun to dry up the puddles left behind by the storm and birds sang from the boughs of pine trees. She and Rufus watched as two squirrels chased each other from branch to branch. Today this place looked like somewhere she could call home.
    She remembered her grandmother