The Potter's Daughter - A chapter each week - Complete Novel Available on Amazon

Chapter 13

The lakeside trees diminished as the rocky shoreline crept up to the road around the last bend to South Point.  There were three spots on the lake where Willow Lake road ran next to the shore, in the village, Peters beach, and at the rocks at South Point.  Now out of the shade of the trees the winter sunlight shown on Abby as she drove her father’s truck.  To her left nestled in the trees across the rocky shore lined cove Abby could see the deck of the South Point Inn.  Perched on the hill above her, ever watching the lake as in her childhood, Abby could see the Johansson house.  At the end of the bend the blue pickup turned right onto Johansson drive and ventured up and around the hill away from the lake.

From the lake the house appeared brilliant white against the snow, up close the paint was chipped and faded in many spots, revealing stripped patches of black and grey wood siding beneath.  Having been untended for years, unremembered stalks of tall grasses and clovers, brown and withered, poked out through the snow around the base of the house and the yard.  By the side of the house, the doors of the three-bay garage were open.  Two bays were filled with lumber, large sheets of compressed wood, and stacked in the back with what Abby thought might be drywall and hardwood flooring.  A large table saw stood in the third bay surrounded by sawdust and wood chips.  When Abby stepped down from the pickup truck she could smell the fresh cut of the sawdust mixed with the oil of the saw and leading from the bay into the side door of the three-story house she could see the trail of wooden dust.  Coming from somewhere inside the large house Abby could hear saws and the rhythmic stomp of a hammer so she headed toward the side door.

Yesterday Mitch excited Abby.  How could she not be attracted to someone that spontaneously performed a song in her honor?  She certainly felt physically attracted to him at the bar although that might have been the beer.  Abby feared today may be different.

When Abby stepped through the door Mitch greeted her by yelling across the house.

“Hey there Abby!”

“Hey Mitch!”

“We’re up front.  Watch your step coming out of the mudroom and across the kitchen, and head into the sitting room!”

Bright lights bounced off fresh white paint in every room Abby walked through.  The sitting room was a large room facing the lake with a large angled fireplace on the corner of the outer wall.  A chandelier cast out yellow light onto the walnut floor and left a dim shadow in the fireplace.  Abby decided that the chandelier was faux crystal because there was far too much to be real.  From the sitting room Abby could see Mitch’s reflection in the next room from a dimly mirrored set of shelves behind a bar.  Mitch was standing in front of the bar talking to one of the carpenters.  He looked stunning to her.  Abby’s heart beat noticeably faster.  She felt a definite attraction today.

From where Abby stood she could see the lake vista.  Newly seated bay windows faced north and east.  Through the north window Abby could see the cerulean midday sky blanketing the horizon.  The eastern window overlooked the terrace and the glassed-in porch.

Abby gestured toward the outside terrace, “Can I go out there?”

“Sure.  Just a second though, it might be better if I come out with you.  It’s a bit rickety in spots.”

Mitch finished his conversation with the carpenter then joined Abby.

The two went out on the porch and then out the door to the wooden deck terrace.

“It seems solid enough,” said Abby.

“For the most part.  I wouldn’t trust these old wooden steps though.  Most of them are rotten.  They’ll be replaced this summer after the new gas lines are run for the pool.”

“Pool?”

“An infinity pool.  Right here under the terrace,” said Mitch.

“And overlooking all of that,” said Abby.  Abby rested her eyes closed then inhaled deeply taking in the brisk air and the whole of the lake and countryside.  She opened her eyes and relaxed her shoulders, “Not a bad day at the office.”

“Except for the ice road across the lake,” said Mitch, “It looks pretty much the same as it did a hundred years ago.”

The ice road ran from the IGA in the village to the South Point Inn on the other side of Willow Lake cutting the distance and time off the trip from one side of the lake to the other December through March.  The ice road was the road that fisherman used to get to their ice shanties in the center of the lake and snowmobile enthusiasts made part of their route when riding the trails.  The ice road also created a direct route of travel to the ski lodge on Mount Frisia.  Abby did not like the ice road much and could not wait to get from one end to the other when she needed to travel across the lake because the thought of driving over the ice in something as heavy as a vehicle always churned her stomach.

A slight wind chilled the terrace.  “That’s from the lake,” said Mitch.  “Let’s go back inside.  I’ll give you the grand tour.”

The two went back into the house that now seemed far warmer than when the two had stepped outside.

“So who is paying for all of this?” asked Abby.

“An investment group from the city hopes that the place will become a premier spa, bed and breakfast sort of thing.”

“Ah, how nice.”

Mitch showed Abby the rooms on the main floor she had missed coming in.  Then he took her upstairs and showed her the bedrooms to be decorated in contemporary style, each of course with a separate bath.  Three tradesmen were at different phases of construction as Abby walked through the upstairs rooms.  A lot of the interior was complete still Abby could see there was trim work, painting, and stucco yet to be done.

The third floor consisted of luxury spa suites overlooking the lake.  These two and three bedroom suites were larger than Abby’s fourth floor city apartment and loaded with amenities.  In the middle of the grey marble bathrooms were stone hot tubs and glassed-in showers that had water jets floor to ceiling in every corner.  The views were better in the luxury suites then two floors below.  On the horizon to the north, Abby could see Fremont and to the east, she could see skiers on lift to the top of Mount Frisia, the large hill at the lakes southeast corner.

“You know these will fill up,” said Abby.

“You still haven’t seen my pet project,” said Mitch.

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