All I remember is that he said his name was Barry over the phone when he confirmed his appointment. One glance, and I can already tell you that Barry is one of those salt of the earth type people, wholesome, hard working, no frills, easy going. He came in with his neon orange, plastic clipboard, heavy working boots that announced his near arrival as he walked across the front porch, an Atlanta Braves baseball cap worn backwards, the ultimate, pocket riddled cargo pants that could probably hold a baby elephant somewhere, and one of those polo shirts with a bright red logo emblazoned on the left breast, declaring him to be a representative of the Window Works company I called last week.

　　"Ya must be Mrs. Charlotte Evered!" he says with entirely too much volume. Part of me wonders if he`s a little deaf, maybe a hunter with a little too much proximity to a gun without sufficient ear protection. The other part of me wonders if this is just his normal speaking volume.

　　"I am," I reply quietly, testing my theory. "And you are Barry?"

　　"That`s right ma`am! Barry Gillian! Ya called us about replacing a few windows?! I noticed on the way in that ya have quite a few broken! Vandalism or somethin`?!" Not deaf. Just really, really loud. I return to my normal volume and cringe at the headache I`m going to have by the end of the afternoon.

　　"You could say that. This is an old house that has been abused in recent years."

　　"Gettin` directions on the way up, one of yer locals here couldn`t believe that I didn`t know what Sour`s mansion was or where to find it! It`s kind of charmin` that it has a name and everythin`! Why do they call it Sour`s mansion?!"

　　Through a grin threatening a laugh, I correct him. "It`s actually Soward`s mansion, named for Mr. and Mrs. Soward who built the house in the 1870s."

　　"Well that makes a lot more sense!" he guffaws. "Unless the place has a bunch of lemon trees in the backyard, Sour` as a name is plain goofy!"

　　"Would you care to come in?"

　　"Thank ya kindly! Now, with yer windows, what`er ya lookin` for?!"

　　"I need a good combination of function with a style that suits the rest of the house."

　　"What sort of style are ya lookin` for?!"

　　"The house was built in a classic Victorian style."

　　"And yer wantin` to fit the windows to the original window wells?!"

　　"That would be ideal, yes."

　　"Are ya wantin` them energy efficient windows?!"

　　"That would be a nice bonus, and preferably windows that open."

　　"That`s doable, though yer pickin` a mighty expensive combination! Is that alright with ya?!"

　　"I`ll make it work."

　　"A lady with a plan! I like that! I have this catalog lyin` about here somewhere!" he says and starts rummaging through one of the pockets in his pants, eventually producing a thick magazine of the different window options available to me. "Based on what ya told me just now, yer prob`ly lookin` at doing them custom window jobs with the energy efficient panelin`! That`s towards the back on page one-o-eight!" While I flip to the appropriate page, Barry continues. "How many of these windows are ya wantin` to get done?!"

　　"All of them."

　　"All of em?!"

　　"Yup."

　　"The whole house?!"

　　"The whole house."

　　"Well, I`ll be&! Batter me up and fry me with them spuds! I wasn`t expectin` that! I guess I better get started on them measurements then! Are ya alright if I show myself around?!"

　　"Go ahead. I`ll flip through the catalog."

　　"I noticed that ya`ve got a number of yer broken windows boarded up! I`m gonna have to take the boards down to get my measurements!"

　　"You have my permission to do whatever you need to."

　　"Alright, ma`am! Doin` the whole house might take more than a few hairs past a freckle to get done, but I`ll do my best!"The author`s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

　　"Meaning?"

　　"This is gonna take a while!" he says with another guffaw, his right hand now buried in another pocket to find a pen and a screwdriver and then another pocket to locate his measuring tape.

　　Meanwhile, I take the catalog and settle into a chair. Page one hundred and eight does have the custom designed, energy efficient window pricing ranges and breakdowns, but it`s the twenty or so pages after that which display pictures of the types of projects they can do. On page one hundred and twenty, I find a before and after picture of a large southern mansion exchanging old, foggy windows for fresh but accurate modern replicas. The example perfectly illustrates the power that windows have to give a house quite the face lift. It`s like giving an old barn a fresh coat of paint, or an old lady a makeover. Before this restoration is over both this old barn and this old lady could use a fresh coat of paint, but back to the original point, I think Barry was right about what types of windows I`m hoping for. These custom windows would be perfect.

　　With that settled, I return to my own list of chores. Recently, I finished demolishing the rest of the walls in the attic and, with Jay`s help, I successfully chucked out all the debris and items earmarked for the dump by Mrs. Larson. (There were no more hidden treasures or problems in the walls of the attic, but now the entire house is but a skeleton with floors and a leaky roof.) Which reminds me, I need to call a roofing company to find and fix the leaks in the attic. Jay said last& however many days ago, that he wants to help me rip up and replace the flooring throughout the house. He said something about mold growing in the floors and wanting to get heating and air conditioning ducting in place while he`s at it. Also on the list before we start putting new walls up- getting the electricity and plumbing sorted out and up to code is an accomplishment I`d like to see happen here in the next few weeks. And the furniture needs to be sent off to Mrs. Larson`s friends, and the windows are in progress, and the support beams need inspecting, and some of the wall studs need replacing, and I need to look into finding some new wood paneling for the main stairwell at a minimum, and I will need to refurnish the house with authentic-looking items&.

　　I need to make an actual, physical list. And swallow some ibuprofen.

　　Returning to my chapel room, I find myself becoming a little dizzy. Perhaps I am overwhelmed? Or perhaps I am dehydrated? I have been pushing myself quite hard for the last& however long it`s been. It`s strange. In recent days, time has been blurring together more and more. I don`t see that as being a problem necessarily. My phone reminds me of any appointments I make, and how long I`ve been working on this restoration project does not matter. It`s all about managing the next task one step at a time.

　　And managing these headaches. They`ve been coming and going for a while now, but I think they are getting worse. I need to drink more water, and ibuprofen is my best friend these days. I`m not good at drinking enough water; I feel like that is not an uncommon struggle. It is often easy to forget that which is the most simple.

　　With a glass of water and a pair of pills in my hand, I take my seat in the rocking chair, listening to the wood creak with the perpetual shifting in motion and change in pressure at each joint in its structure. When the water is gone, I reach for the diary I`ve been reading very slowly in the evening. I never have the energy to stay awake through more than a page or two, and the gossip and ramblings of a teenage girl who feels like the world is out to get her is not the sort of thing to keep my attention for long. My primary interest is in the historical details of Ms. Sarah Atwood`s diaries. For example, she and Alice Soward traveled to America on an ocean liner/ steamship named the SS City of London, a ship that a quick google search shows was built in Scotland in 1863 and carried immigrants between Liverpool and New York until it was lost at sea in 1881. Their voyage took "nearly ten days" to cross the Atlantic, and then they took a train for three days from New York to Hestinia followed by another day by cart to "the settlement" that would eventually become Raesport if the description of the partially completed house "in the popular style" is any indication. Apparently Mrs. Soward was less than thrilled to arrive in America and find that the house she`d demanded of her husband was only mostly built. Sarah records her first week in the new construction zone as "a nightmare spent in a desperate struggle to not upset the lady further, for her wrath [was] great and her willingness to administer punishments even more so."

　　To be fair to little Ms. Sarah, Mrs. Soward does not sound like a very pleasant human. If Sarah`s diaries are to be believed, Alice liked hitting her maid servant or lashing out verbally whenever she got angry, almost as though Sarah was the whipping boy for the world, and Mrs. Soward was very careful to ensure that her violent outbursts were kept private. Whether these accounts are hyperbole or fiction altogether, I couldn`t say. What is clear is that Sarah Atwood was not happy to be a servant to her "lady". She consistently laments her pathetic life situation in nearly every entry, and, for context, I am almost to the end of the first diary at this point. Will Sarah find happiness eventually? To be continued&.

　　Ah, but it will have to wait. I must have spent a good, long time sipping down my water because Barry is calling for me. "MRS. EVERED?!"

　　"I`m coming!" I snap irritably as my gradually easing headache flares up again, and I slowly straighten up out of my seat, collecting the window catalog and leaving the room to find Barry looking over his clipboard.

　　"Hello! I`ve gotten all of the windows measured upstairs and along the front of the house! I saw that yer livin` t`wards the back of the house and didn`t want to disturb ya! Are there windows back there that ya`d like me to have a little look-see at?!"

　　"There are a couple of windows in the kitchen. The only other window is in the chapel, and& actually, that window is just fine to leave as it is for now."

　　"That`s why I ask!" he says and helps himself into the kitchen for the last two sets of measurements. "Did ya find what yer lookin` for in the catalog I gave ya?!"

　　"I did. Page one hundred and twenty?" I show him the page that caught my eye. "That`s what I`m hoping to see happen with this installation."

　　"Uh-huh! That`s what I thought ya were after! Alright, I`ll make a note and get back to ya after goin` over my pictures and measurements! Should take no more than a week!"

　　"I`ll look forward to hearing from you then. Thank you."

　　"Yer mighty welcome, ma`am! Ya have yerself a great day!"