A few minutes later, he was bouncing down the road. There had been a light frost overnight; the air was snappy; it was a good day to get things done. He needed to write to Francesca. Her letter was in the bottom of the toolbox in the back of the Jeep. He knew it by heart. She was renting a house in a section of Seattle called Ballard. Maria was in school. Elena was in pre-school. Francesca was working in a family clinic, lonely, but glad to be starting a life on her terms. It was signed, "Love, F."
He drove to the Yarmouth post office and waited five minutes for it to open. He was going to send her a postcard, but he changed his mind and bought a stamped envelope. He went over to the Calendar Island Motel and wrote her a letter as he ate bacon and eggs and homefries. He described the new house and reported that Emma was crawling and would be walking soon. Work was O.K.; there were nice people at the hospital. He was thinking mainly of Dan and Suzanne, but he didn't go into it. He signed his own love and then added, "I miss you. I wish I could be two places at once." He tore the page out of his notebook and folded it into the envelope. Crap. He really was two places at once, but he didn't want to think about it. Better to get to work.
The morning was warming when he untied the new ladder and carried it from the roof rack. He laid it on the grass and assembled it, tying off the lifting rope. Jennifer put her head out the front door. "Where've you been?"
"Hi, pretty good, huh?" He pointed to the shiny aluminum ladder. "I stopped for breakfast." He pointed to Verdi who was motionless beneath a rose bush by the corner of the house. "I see you. Where's Princess?"
"In her room. Why don't we bring the playpen out here? Will you watch her? I want to go to Gillespie's."
"Sure." They took the playpen apart and put it back together on the lawn. Emma sat in the sun surrounded by rattles, balls, and small stuffed bears. Jennifer left and Oliver set up a window-washing station in front of the house. Should I wash them all first, or one at a time as I put them in? he asked himself. One at a time. He cleaned the first and noticed a small lead disk numbered, 7, nailed to the outside face of the bottom of the sash.
"Aha," he said. "But where is window seven, Emma? Where is window seven?" He walked along the front of the house, checking each window for some kind of number. On the end of the windowsill of the fourth window, he found a disk numbered, 3. That makes a lot of sense, he thought. He continued around the end of the house. There was a two on the next window. It did make sense; the starting point was different, that was all. There were two windows at that end of the first floor. The numbering started at the far corner, came around the end, and continued across the front of the house. The windows that looked into the ell at the other end were not fitted for storms, so number seven was the first one on the back side.
"Looking good," he said to Emma. He took the clean window around to the back of the house and put it in place. The sash fit flush with the outer casing. Metal clips held the window in place. He swiveled them over the sash and tightened them down with a screwdriver. "O.K. Thirteen to go."
He was down to nine when Jennifer returned with a carload of groceries.
"I got some cider from Gillespie's. How's Emma?"
"Having a good time," Oliver said. "A couple of bees checked her out.
No harm done. I think she likes it outside."