The Handyman's Summer

by Nick Poff

  “Did you know her family?”

  “No,” Celeste said. “Evie was the only one left when we moved here.”

  Ed looked closely at Celeste Burns. He had the feeling she was not being one hundred percent truthful. “The house was unlocked,” he said casually. “Anyone could have gone in and taken what they wanted. I don’t suppose you saw anyone snooping around before we bought it, did you?”

  “No,” she said, rather uneasily, Ed thought. She’s been in the house since Evie died. I’d bet the Camaro on it.

  “If I find anything interesting or valuable, I’ll stop by and let you know,” He said with a trusting smile. “You may be able to help identify something that meant a lot to Evie.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Celeste laughed. “But you’re more than welcome to ask.”

  “Thank you,” Ed said politely, still smiling.

  “Well, best of luck with the rest of your work,” Celeste said moving toward her own yard. “If you do discover something, let me know! I’d be real interested in hearing about it.” She waved and disappeared through her back door.

  Spoken like a genuine quidnunc, Ed thought.

  He went into the house and climbed the stairs. There were a few boxes left in the bedrooms, but Ed was pretty sure he’d gone through all of them. He had not come across any jewelry, but he looked again, just in case. He plowed through the remaining useless articles and sighed with disgust, thinking if there had been any jewelry, it had probably been relocated to Celeste Burns’ house.

  The first floor boxes were gone, most of their contents having been deposited in the dumpsters. Ed grabbed a broom he’d brought earlier and began sweeping up some of the remaining clutter, hoping to have the place ready for interior painting and carpet installation. He wanted to get started with it before Doug’s visit.

  He swept some dust and scraps of paper and cardboard away from the fireplace, wondering if they should replace the brickwork. It was quite out of date, and not in a good way. The stonework on the raised hearth was still appealing though. He made a mental note to consult both Rick and Rex, and see what ideas they might have. The actual bricks of the fireplace were not so bad; perhaps a coat of paint in a contemporary color would take care of that issue.

  He got on his knees to peer into the fireplace, wondering about the damper and the condition of the chimney. He maneuvered himself so he could take a good look upwards when one the stones he was balancing on seemed to shake.

  Geez, another earthquake? He thought, moving back and dusting his hands. He looked at the stone in question, and then at the ones around it, his brow furrowed. After a moment or two of inspection, he carefully reached down and slid the stones aside, revealing a recess in the hearth.

  “Holy shit!” he whispered.

  Inside were several spiral notebooks, just like the ones he had in his desk at home in which he jotted notes about his handyman clients. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to remove what turned out to be three of them. He put them aside and reached for a yellowed envelope. Inside he found over six hundred dollars, mostly in fifties and twenties.

  “Well, I’m glad Celeste Burns didn’t find this,” he said to no one in particular.

  He felt around the recess to see if anything remained. His hand felt something metal and round with scalloped edges. There were several of them. He grabbed a handful and was surprised to see a collection of Porter Diamond Soda bottle caps. The last item he found was a ring of keys. He put that next to the bottle caps and stared at the treasure in both wonder and confusion. What an odd bunch of stuff to hide away, he thought. Aside from the cash and perhaps the keys, he couldn’t imagine why Evie had stashed these things.

  Ed turned his attention to the notebooks, noticing there was some block printing on the dark blue cover of the one on top. He looked closer and brushed away some dust. His eyes widened as he read the words. PRIVATE PROPERTY OF DANIEL DENISON, BOOK 2.

  He glanced quickly at the other two notebooks. They both had the name Daniel Denison and were marked as books 3 and 4. “Evie’s brother,” he whispered.

  With shaking hands he opened the cover of book 2 and scanned the first page. Friday, June 3, 1960, he read. At last I am at home. It seems so strange to be here alone without Mom, Dad, or Evie, but I’ll have to get used to it. My first year salary doesn’t allow for special housing expenses when I have this house rent-free.

  Ed riffled the rest of the pages, seeing various dates flip by: June 11, June 25, and July 7. It was definitely a diary, or journal, kept by Evie’s brother Daniel in the summer of 1960.

  Various questions clashed in his mind. Where’s book one? Why were these hidden? Did Evie know they were here? And what happened to Daniel?

  Impatient for answers, Ed pushed through more pages and read an entry at random.

  Saturday, July 23, 1960

  Ernie just slipped out the back door. I’m still weak from our encounter. Talk about sublime! Those who speak lowly or dismissively of man on man sex have obviously never experienced or cannot imagine the raw passion Ernie and I share.

  “I’ll be damned,” Ed whispered. “He was gay!”

  The book slipped from Ed’s hands. Open mouthed, he contemplated what he had read, and where he had found it. Again, he wondered if Evie had been aware of the journal’s existence.

  He stood up and began to pace, marveling over what he had uncovered. The mystery surrounding Evie, the house, and some mysterious benefactor had suddenly taken a whole new turn.

  Abruptly, he bent over and shoved the cash in its worn envelope into a back pocket of his jeans. He crammed the bottle caps in a front pocket along with the key ring. He then carefully picked up the notebooks and clutched them to his side as he checked his other front pocket for his own keys.

  He carefully locked the front door, and in case Celeste Burns was watching, slowly walked to his truck and got in as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Once he was safely off Cooley Street, he hit the gas and roared away, his only thought being to share the notebooks and his new knowledge with Rick as soon as possible.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ed was so intent on sharing his discovery with Rick he barely noticed the darkening skies and rumbling thunder. He screeched into the driveway of Penfield Manor and just made it into the house before the rain began pelting down.

  Once inside he placed the notebooks on the dining room table. He peered cautiously into the den, and then into the parlor where he saw Rick sprawled on the sofa eating an apple and reading the Courier. Ed strolled nonchalantly into the parlor.

  Rick looked up. “Hey. The boys will be home from the gym soon. I was thinking about a pizza for supper.”

  Ed pulled the envelope from his back pocket and tossed it in Rick’s lap. “Think that’ll pay for it?”

  Rick put his apple on the coffee table and shoved aside the newspaper. The look of astonishment on his face when he peered into the envelope was everything Ed had hoped for. “What in the hell have you been up to?” He demanded.

  Ed landed on the sofa next to Rick. “I found Evie’s secret stash,” he said smugly.

  “Where?” Rick demanded, counting the money.

  “In the fireplace, believe it or not.” Ed explained about the recess under the hearth stones.

  “I don’t believe it.” Rick shook his head. “All we need is a dead body and I’d swear we’d fallen into an episode of Murder, She Wrote.”

  “And that’s not all,” Ed said as he pulled the keys and bottle caps out of his front pocket.

  Rick examined these items, as puzzled as Ed had been. “I’m saving the best for last,” Ed said as he got up and retrieved the notebooks from the dining room.

  “Well, holy jumping Jupiter,” Rick murmured as he read the covers and peeked inside the books. “Daniel Denison! Maybe this is all his stuff, not Evie’s.”

  “I thought about that, too,” Ed said, taking Book 2 into his lap and flipping through to the entry he had read earlier.
“Especially after I saw this.” He showed Rick the July 23rd entry.

  “Talk about icing on the cake,” Rick said in wonder. “This mystery just got…more mysterious.”

  “I know. We’re getting a hell of a lot more than we bargained for when we slapped down a buck for that house.”

  “Really,” Rick said absently as he riffled the book’s pages. He paused and read something, his eyes widening. “Okay, scratch Murder, She Wrote. Somebody just changed the channel to The Twilight Zone. Listen to this. Monday, August 22nd,” he read.

  I attended our first department meeting at the high school today. I am so pleased Hilda Penfield is still English department chairman. It was her encouragement that led me to teaching. It’s a thrill to be working with her.

  Ed and Rick looked at each other and began to laugh. “Small world, huh?” Rick said as tossed the notebook on the table.

  A flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the room, followed by a booming thud of thunder. “I do believe Mrs. Penfield has spoken,” Ed said solemnly, and they cracked up again.

  Once they’d calmed down Rick’s face became thoughtful. “You know, I just thought of something. Do you think Daniel could be the mystery benefactor?”

  Ed shook his head. “Why would he be so mysterious about it? Evie was his sister. It would be natural for him to take care of her.”

  “Maybe something awful happened between them and they were estranged,” Rick suggested. “People were even more freaked out about homosexuality then. Shoot, it was still considered a mental illness.”

  “Yeah, and Evie sure wasn’t the picture of mental health. No, I still think there is someone else involved in this. Maybe if we read all of these notebooks we’ll figure it out.”

  “What do you mean, ‘if’? There’s no way we’re not reading all of them. If nothing else, you discovered an incredible slice of gay history. I want to know everything he had to say about being gay in 1960.

  “In fact,” Rick continued thoughtfully, “I think we should read this together every night, a few entries at a time. It can be our official summer read. That way we won’t miss some little detail that could be important, and we’ll draw out the suspense. It’ll be more fun that way.”

  Ed nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! This’ll be even better than All My Children. And I’ve got an idea, too. Let’s not tell anyone about it. At least not yet.”

  Rick smiled and reached over to stroke Ed’s hair. “Our little secret, huh?”

  Ed leaned over for a kiss. “No, our little big secret.”

  They could hear the sounds of Neal and Rex coming through the back door as they bitched about getting wet. Ed quickly shoved the notebooks under the sofa cushions and stuffed the other items in his jeans pockets. “Watch out, Nancy Drew,” he whispered, sharing a longer, lingering kiss with Rick to seal their silence. “Ed and Rick are on the case now.”

  ###

  After everyone had enjoyed the Gino’s pizza Rick had ordered for them he got up and began to clear the plates. Neal made a move to stand up but abruptly sat back down. “I hurt,” he moaned.

  “No pain, no gain,” Ed said, imitating Jane Fonda in her popular workout videos.

  “Jane Fonda or Rex Kennedy,” Neal mumbled. “I don’t know which is worse.”

  Rex, who’d been collecting paper napkins and putting them into the pizza box went around the table, stood behind Neal’s chair, and placed his hands on his shoulders. “We can quit anytime you want, Poppin’ Fresh,” he said sweetly.

  “Ooh,” said both Ed and Rick. “Low blow!”

  Neal looked up at Rex. “Hateful,” he said.

  Rex giggled and mussed Neal’s hair. “Well, since I’m stuck here at the table until I can move again, and it’s still raining,” Neal said, rearranging his hair, “how about a game night?”

  Ed had been looking forward to disappearing upstairs with Rick and Daniel’s journal, but seeing the pleased look on Rex’s face he quickly agreed. Once the table had been cleared Ed went to the hall closet and pulled some of his battered board games from the top shelf. They played two games of Sorry! taking great joy in sending each other’s tokens back to Start. Ed won the first game; Neal was victor for the second.

  “I’m tired of this game,” Rick whined. “Let’s play something else.”

  “You’re just afraid you’re going to lose again,” Ed taunted him.

  “True,” Rick admitted, “but I’d like to lose at something else for a change. Hey, let’s play Monopoly! We don’t have to finish tonight. We can let it go all weekend, if need be.”

  Rex and Neal voiced approval but Ed made a face. “Monopoly? With you, the Shylock of Boardwalk and Park Place?”

  “Oh, c’mon, Ed,” Neal protested. “We don’t care who wins as long as we’re having fun.”

  “Oh, all right,” Ed surrendered. He took the Sorry! set back to the closet. Rex followed with the other board games Ed had brought to the table. “Does he cheat?” Rex wanted to know.

  “No, he’s above that,” Ed said grimly, reaching for the Monopoly box and handing it to Rex. “I don’t know if it’s luck or skill, but he always wins. We can’t let him get all the red and yellow properties. He’s wiped me out on that side of the board more times than I can remember.”

  To entertain himself Ed stacked some of his “new to me” 45’s from Evie’s house on the hi fi. He figured if he were about to go down in real estate flames he might as well do it with a song in his heart.

  They played for several hours as the rain pattered down outside. Ed had to admit it was cozy sitting around the dining room table teasing each other over lucky or unlucky moves. Rex, he thought, seemed the happiest Ed had ever seen him.

  At one point Rex held the dice and cocked his head toward the hi fi where a group called Cotton Candy was singing their non-hit “Billy”. “Is that a boy or a girl singing?” He asked.

  Rick chortled. “I wondered that, too. I also want to know if the singer is singing to a boy or a girl.”

  “Ah,” Ed lamented, “no wonder we didn’t hear this one on the radio in 1969. Radio programmers were probably afraid it would confuse impressionable young minds.”

  “As someone with an impressionable young mind I’ve decided it’s a boy singing to a boy,” Neal stated.

  “Me too,” said Rex with a smirk.

  “The homo vote clinches it!” Ed applauded, and then knocked Rex’s hand so he’d roll the dice.

  They called it a night at eleven, vowing to pick up the game first thing in the morning. Rex followed Ed into the kitchen for a glass of water. “I think this is the nicest Friday night I’ve ever had,” he said.

  Ed, his hand on the ice bin, smiled at the contented look on Rex’s face. “Oh? You don’t do game nights at your house?”

  “No,” Rex said bluntly. “We don’t. You know,” he continued, “I’m beginning to be grateful those assholes beat me up. I know they were trying to humiliate me, but they ended up getting me the family I always dreamed about.”

  Ed was touched. He put a gentle arm around Rex’s shoulders. “That’s good,” he murmured. “We needed another little brother.”

  ###

  Ed repeated to Rick what Rex had told him in the kitchen when they were in their room getting ready for bed. “Oh, that poor kid,” Rick sighed, pulling the bedspread back and slightly rumpling it at the foot so Jett could knead it flat with his paws. “Can you imagine what Friday nights were like at that place with a drunk? I will say this, though; I’m not at all uneasy about taking him in anymore. Hell, he’s growing on me more and more every day.”

  “Me too,” Ed said as he opened the drawer in his bedside table. He had hidden all the items from the fireplace stash there earlier. “I think Phil was right. Now that he’s planted in the right environment, he may turn into something special.”

  Ed handed the notebook marked “Book 2” to Rick. “You read tonight. I’ll read tomorrow night.”

  Rick looked thoughtfully at the note
book. “What do you suppose happened to Book 1?”

  “Please,” Ed groaned, propping himself up against his pillows. “One mystery at a time.”

  “Okay, okay,” Rick mumbled. “Here we go: Saturday, June 4, 1960.”

  I decided to walk over to Dudley’s Market today and lay in a good stock of food. My culinary skills have not improved, but eating in restaurants simply isn’t an option on my budget. I was surprised to see mean old Mrs. Mears was still behind the cash register. I was sure the old bat would have kicked the bucket by now, but no; there she was, snoopy as ever. She asked some pointed questions about Evie which I managed to evade. I also refrained from telling her the mole on her chin seemed to have acquired more hair and a more commanding appearance in my absence.

  “Ooh,” Rick chuckled. “Talk about hateful!”

  “I like this guy already,” Ed said happily.

  “Where was Dudley’s Market? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It was on Drummond Street, just past the intersection with Simmons Avenue, across from the sewing machine factory. There was a whole line of businesses there. Dad told me once it was a thriving business area until the sewing machine factory was sold and production was moved out of town. After that, with all those workers across the street gone, those stores eventually were out business.”

  “And were torn down,” Rick added. “That area is just a vacant lot, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. C’mon. Read some more.”

  I almost dropped my bags when I left the store. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Ernie was sweeping the sidewalk in front of his parents’ hardware store! I was sure he would have left town by now. Mrs. Mears is four years uglier and Ernie is four years more handsome. I could feel an uprising in my pants just looking at him. I was genuinely afraid to get his attention, but he looked up and saw me and smiled. He invited me into the store for a bottle of pop while we caught up on each other’s lives. I was flabbergasted to learn he is not married, nor seriously involved with some local girl. His gorgeous blue eyes never left mine as he told me he was glad to know I was back in town. “Maybe you should come over some night,” I said, trying to be casual. Casual! After the times we had during high school? I was hard at the mere thought. I made it clear I was alone in the house. Ernie smiled that lazy smile and said he was glad to know that, as he preferred my bed to the back seat of his old Chevy. “I’ll call the moment it’s safe to get away,” he promised.