Frank grabs a roll of paper towels I have sitting on the counter, and begins to wipe up the coffee. “Broom?” he asks. I point to a closet.

I watch him clean up the mess, feeling as if he’s sweeping up my hopes and dreams. I think of sitting in this kitchen, on this very counter, and my grandma reciting “Humpty Dumpty” to me when I would start to get too playful.

I begin to do quick math in my head, thinking of my savings, how much Nate will be paying me every month, the amounts I might be able to take from my IRA and retirement accounts without too much of a tax hit. My head grows light.

“I don’t have that kind of cash readily available, Frank,” I say. “Could I give you a quarter up front, and then go from there?”

Frank slides the remains of my broken cup into the trash with a big crash, sets down the pail and walks over to me.

“Of course,” he says, his voice soft. “You know, my family has always loved this cottage. My great-grandfather helped build it, my grandfather and father loved your parents and grandparents. And Jonathan and Josephine were so kind to me. I feel like this cottage is a part of my family, too.”

My eyes fill with tears. “It is,” I say. “You know, my dad used to say that you had sawdust in your blood. A lot of that is from Cozy Cottage.”

“I’ll get started this afternoon,” he says. “My crew will start on the roof and the outside of the cottage while we have a chance, and then we’ll start on the fish house and interior. I promise we’ll do our best to have this ready for Memorial Day weekend. Sound good?”

I nod.

Frank gathers his papers and his case, turns to leave but stops after a few steps.

“Kruger,” he says, before turning to face me. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I say.

“Your maiden name,” he says. “In German, Kruger literally means innkeeper.”

My eyes widen.

“My grandfather loved family ancestry,” he says. “He told me that a long time ago.” Frank looks at me, and his bushy bearded face breaks into a smile, giving him the look of a gleeful cartoon character. “Maybe all of this is meant to be,” he says. “Maybe everything in your family’s history has led up to this moment.”

Frank nods definitively and says, “See you soon, Ms. Kruger.”

He turns and leaves, the house seeming to creak in agreement with every footstep he takes.

FIVE

“Welcome Wagon!”

I am just about to turn on the water to take a shower—at nearly 1:00 p.m., mind you—when I hear a chorus of warbly voices calling from downstairs.

“Mrs. Clarke? Welcome Wagon!”