Chapter Fifty-Seven
Winter on the prairies can be a punishing ordeal when the temperature drops and the winds pick up. Since the beginning of December, prairie folks had braced themselves for the bitter cold to arrive, but days before Christmas it had still not yet come, at least not in full force. The temperature hovered around 10 degrees below freezing, but it hadn’t snowed, and without snow covering the landscape, it just didn’t seem like Christmas.
Finally, one morning, Regina residents woke up to their winter wonderland. Huge flakes tumbled from the sky and by the time Justin opened the gallery at 9:30 a.m. at least 10 inches of snow had fallen and traffic was almost at a standstill.
When Henry arrived at the shop, snow was beginning to gather where Justin had already shovelled.
“Hi, Dad. Mr. and Mrs. Clarke just purchased a painting of yours for their daughter and her husband, and would like you to personalize it.”
“Certainly, I’ll just be a minute.” Henry shook the snow from his coat and hung it up. He headed back to the counter and extended his hand to the Clarkes.
As Henry began to personalize the back of the painting, Ben Walker entered the gallery.
“Hi, Ben,” Henry said, as he glanced up from writing the note. “I’ll just be a few moments.”
“Hello, Henry, take your time. I’ll just browse for a while. I love looking at your paintings.”
After Henry signed the back of the painting and a book for the Clarke’s, he handed them both to Justin to gift wrap them. He thanked the Clarke’s, and then approached Ben, who was examining one of Henry’s new Giclees.
“Well, Ben, haven’t seen you in a spell. How are things going?”
“This is nice, Henry. I haven’t seen these before.”
“They just came out. I reproduced my last two originals directly onto canvas. I am pleased with the colour and quality of the reproduction.”
“Yeah, they look just like an original, in fact, I thought they were.”
“Good-bye, Susan, Paul,” Henry said, as the Clarkes passed on their way out.
“Bye, Henry, thanks again for personalizing the painting, it will mean a lot to them.”
“The pleasure is all mine. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too.”
Ben and Henry walked over to the counter where Justin was standing.
“Hi, Ben,” said Justin, as he put out his hand.
“Hi, Justin, how are you doing?” He gave Justin’s hand a firm shake.
“Good. Selling any gingerbread houses?” quipped Justin.
Ben smiled, “I wish I could. Sales go down at this time of year, it will pick up again in the New Year.”
Just then Jeremy walked into the gallery.
“We might need to get a new dishwasher, Dad. You may want to have a look at it. Oh, hi Ben,” said Jeremy as he extended his hand.
“Haven’t seen you in a long time, Jeremy, seems every time I’m in the restaurant you’re on a day off.”
“I don’t think so Ben, or at least my wife wouldn’t agree with you. Running a restaurant is a full time business. I must have been in the kitchen when you were in.”
“So, what brings you here, Ben? Interested in one of my originals?” Henry chimed in.
“I wish I could afford one, I’d be the first in line. The reason I am here is a house came on the market awhile ago and I think you may want to have a look at. It’s in an excellent area, a very nice bungalow and the price is quite good.”
“How long has it been on the market, Ben?” Henry inquired.
“Only a month or so. I thought for sure it would sell in the first week. One person was very interested, but the financing fell through.”
“Well, Ben, I am not really interested in purchasing any more properties, but perhaps Jeremy might want to acquire another revenue property.”
They turned to Jeremy.
“Would you like to have a look at it?” asked Henry.
“Yeah, I’d like to see it.”
“Well, then, why don’t the three of us have a look at it. We’ll meet you at the house around four this afternoon?”
“That sounds great, Henry. Here’s a feature sheet. The address is at the top. See you both there, then, around four.”
“Right, bye for now.”
After Ben left, Jeremy and Henry studied the sheet.
“That’s a nice looking bungalow. I like the steep roof and all the stone work, it sure gives it a quaint look. Too bad the snow is covering up all the landscaping. The low, stonewall fence at the sidewalk is great, it almost feels like you’re entering an estate. It’s impressive, very nice exterior and looks like the interior might have a nice layout, too. Well, we will know soon enough if it’s a good buy or not.” Henry placed the sheet on the edge of the counter and followed Jeremy to the kitchen to examine the dishwasher as they braced themselves for another busy day.
Shortly before four, the Pederson’s pulled up in front of the bungalow on Hill Avenue. Ben was already in the house, his car parked on the street. The winding walkway to the front door had been cleared of snow but was filling up again. Only hints of the green evergreen trees peeked through the white blanket of snow. The connecting roofs were laden with snow as were all the shrubs and cedars wrapping around the front of the house.
Henry and Justin walked in single file up the cleared path. Ben opened the front door as they stepped onto the landing.
“Hi, Henry, Jeremy. I see you found the place okay. I was worried the snow might bury the city by this afternoon. It’s quite a snowfall we are having.”
“Yes, it sure is,” said Henry as he stamped his feet on the landing.
Ben took his coat then Jeremy’s and hung them in the front closet. They took off their shoes, even though Ben said it wasn’t necessary. Henry cleaned the snow and moisture off his glasses with his handkerchief.
The agent stepped back as Henry brushed past him into the foyer then entered the living room. His first impressions came from the furniture rather than the house itself but even more so the fragrance in the air. He had smelled it as soon as he entered the house. Plants and flowers were everywhere and so discreetly placed that it complimented rather than detracted from the furniture. Everything looked so elegant and tastefully arranged. It instantly appealed to him. In fact, it made him feel totally at home.
An all encompassing but strange calm settled over him as he gazed around the room. The antique furniture was exquisite and the fine craftsmanship of the chairs and tables exuded an inherent aesthetic beauty. Solid wood, carved with sensitivity and design, not even close to most of the best furniture on the current market.
Henry couldn’t get over the flowers blooming and how the air was mixed with so many different scents…it was intoxicating and yet, amongst the heavenly air surrounding him a faint scent was triggering a memory. His nostrils quivered. He felt like a hound dog highly trained to sniff out opium amidst thousands of odours.
What was this faint scent that stirred him?
Goose bumps formed on his skin. He felt the hair at the back of his neck rise and just as a memory of the fragrance began to surface, Ben broke the spellbinding reverie of the moment.
“Nice layout, isn’t it?” Ben commented from behind him.
“Oh, yes, Ben,” Henry mumbled as he actually started to look at the house interior itself.
At the end of the living room was a natural stone fireplace with a beautiful mahogany mantle. It was snuggled in between bookshelf units on either side. An original painting hanging above the mantle caught Henry’s interest. He went over and looked for the name, but didn’t recognize it. The artist obviously sensitive to light caught the sunlight on the lake in the landscape magnificently. It was definitely a painting he would have purchased as it reminded him of the serene view of his pond in the valley near the Poustinia.
The grate which held the firewood had curved legs and a curved front; very unique, as was the ornate screen sitting on a strip of ceramic tile in front of the fireplace; these items were handmade and antiques in their own right. The utensils hanging near the opening of the fireplace were all part of the set as their shape, design, and artistically hand-carved oak handles carried the same craftsman’s touch.
“Absolutely beautiful,” Henry murmured.
A very comfortable armchair sat in front of the fireplace. It looked so inviting; he could have sat down immediately and started to read the book resting on the round end table next to it. The book was open and lying face down, Henry wanted to go over and read the title, but held himself in check.
The dining room grew out of the end of the living room separated by an arched opening with pillars on either side. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, almost perfectly centred over the antique dining room table. The coving around the ceiling reflected an earlier time, perhaps the thirties or forties and in superb condition. The tripod legs at either end of the dark mahogany dining room table and the way they flared out into brass-covered claw feet intrigued him. The high backs and seats of the chairs were covered with dark chocolate coloured leather. The accompanying sideboard and china cabinet were both supported by flared legs, as well. Henry couldn’t believe that such fine antique pieces of furniture were in the same house. It must have taken the owner years to find such rare pieces and to combine them together so tastefully.
Jeremy and Ben had walked ahead into the kitchen. They were talking about something, but Henry was so mesmerized by the antiques he didn’t know what they were discussing. It would take him hours just to fully examine and appreciate the furniture. He was just about to more thoroughly study the intricate mullion bars over the curved doors of the china cabinet when his son called him.
“Come on, Dad, we have to get back to the gallery, soon.”
“Yes, I’m just so taken by the antique furniture, such absolutely beautiful pieces.” Reluctantly, Henry tore his eyes away from the unusual shape of the brass pulls of the cabinet’s drawers and walked into the bright kitchen.
“Jeremy and I were just talking about the fridge and the range. They are actually quite modern, yet have an old style about them. Works very well with all the old furniture and light fixtures.”
“Everything is just fantastic.”
“Wait till you see the bedroom,” said Ben, “I brought my wife here, this morning, to show her the house. She instantly fell in love with the bedroom furniture. We are hoping whoever buys the house will sell us the set.”
“What do you mean, the buyer selling you the bedroom set, you mean the seller?”
“No, I mean the buyer. Oh, didn’t I tell you, the price of the home includes all the furniture?”
Henry could barely believe what he had just heard. He stepped back.
“What on earth do you mean, Ben? You can’t be serious. Surely no one in their right mind would give up all this incredible furniture with the house sale.”
“I’m dead serious, Henry. Absolutely everything in the house goes with the sale, exactly as you see it.”
Henry was momentarily speechless. Why on earth had this house not sold yet? Surely other people must see the tremendous value.
“So, tell me, Ben, what is going on, here. Where are the owners and how can this possibly be?”
“Well, apparently the lady that owned this house took ill and had to move into a nursing home. When her son came from down east for a visit, she asked him to sell the home. I guess her illness is terminal.”
“Well, doesn’t her son want any of this furniture or some of his mother’s things?”
“Apparently not. In my discussions with him, I got the impression that he doesn’t like antique furniture at all. He’s quite young, actually and I guess he and his wife are into modern furniture. And for his age, he seems to be an important business man and doesn’t have the time to go through any of this. He just asked me to find a buyer for the house and to price everything into it. It’s hard to put a price on all this stuff. At the end of the day, her son simply said to add $15 to $20,000 onto the price and let it all go. He didn’t have time to spend selling each piece or dickering with people. ‘Just sell it all,’ were my final instructions on the matter.”
Henry studied Ben for a long moment, making certain that he wasn’t pulling his leg. Ben’s expression confirmed that he was dead serious.
“This is unbelievable. What do you think, Jeremy? This would be a very good investment.”
Jeremy looked at Ben and then at his dad not sure if he should say what was on his mind. “To be honest, Dad, I don’t care for the antique furniture, either. It’s a nice house, but I don’t know. It’s a little old style, Hill Avenue is a busy street. I don’t know. It’s a very good deal…it, it just doesn’t seem to appeal to me.”
Once again, Henry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This is the buy of the century! Why couldn’t he see the value here?
Henry was mystified.
And yet, if his son couldn’t see the value, perhaps this in part at least explains how the owner’s son didn’t, either, or the other potential buyers who had already viewed the house and its contents. It never failed to intrigue Henry how one person could see a treasure in something, while another person could see the opposite.
Henry shook his head. How many times had he witnessed this perception especially during his counseling years and the resulting misunderstandings and problems.
“Are you sure, you are not interested in this house?”
Jeremy shook his head with a slight smile on his face.
Henry walked over to the kitchen sink and rested his hands on the edge. Thoughts of his mother doing that very same thing in their home gently drifted into his mind. She seemed to do her best thinking there with her hands in the water washing something or other. He felt her presence as he looked out the window and surveyed the huge back yard.
Although everything was covered with snow, Henry could imagine what lay underneath by the impressions of the snow above. It was obvious a winding path led to a gazebo way in the back yard. Flowers and hedges lined the walkway on either side. The tall, old evergreens lining the west and east side of the yard would provide shade, privacy and a cozy seclusion. If this were his back yard, he would have done a very similar thing. He could just picture himself strolling down a winding path and then sitting in the shade or light of the gazebo to rest or read or meditate. It was perfect.
As Henry stood there, he realized that his appeal for this house was not just the house per se and its contents, but the overall general feeling it gave to him. Never before, other than when he walked into his mother’s kitchen perhaps, had he ever felt so completely at home.
An unexplainable peace, a oneness, a mysterious connection with this home swept over him. It’s almost as if he had discovered his other self or his whole self.
Just as Henry was about turn back to Jeremy and encourage him to buy the house he saw a shadow streak across the back yard. He leaned forward and saw Julean’s spirit. He gasped. He heard one of the men behind ask if he was okay but their words of concern quickly faded away. She moved to the right of the gazebo and disappeared…
What Henry saw next overwhelmed him even more and the blood drained from his face. Beside the gazebo, half-buried in the snow, its white colour blending into it emerged an angel with beautiful wings holding a basket that caught a high fluff of snow from the day’s snowfall. Perhaps more than the house, the furniture, the incredible price, it was the guardian angel beckoning him to his new home.
“Unbelievable.”
“Dad, we really have to get back to the café and gallery.”
Henry tried to register in his mind what Jeremy had just said, but he was so engrossed and overtaken by this strange feeling growing within him it took several
moments to return to the reality of the moment.
“Dad, did you hear me? I have to get back and close the café…”
Henry turned and looked at Jeremy and then at Ben. They were both looking at him intently. Each for different reasons. Ben was wondering if the property was enticing him and Jeremy was trying to figure out what he could possibly see in this old house filled with all of this old stuff.
“Do you want to see the bathroom and the bedroom, Henry?” asked Ben.
Henry could see Jeremy wanted to get back to the cafe and he didn’t want to rush seeing the rest of the house. He wanted to savour it all, appreciate every item, every nook and cranny. Absolutely everything!
“Look, Ben, we need to get back to the store, and I don’t want to rush this, but let me say I am definitely very interested. I promised myself not to buy any more houses and get back to my painting, no more distractions, and yet here I am, trapped again by such character, architecture and design. And all this beautiful furniture comes with it.
How can I possibly turn this down?”
He spun around to take it all in again. “It feels like home! I’m almost certain I will take it, Ben. I would however like to come back one more time.”
“Sure, Henry, whatever you think. I can give you the key to the house. Come back either tonight or tomorrow and go through it at your leisure and get back to me.”
“Thanks, Ben, I’m going to take you up on that.”
Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He took one key off the ring and handed it to Henry.
“Here you go, Henry, it’s all yours,” he said with a smile.
“You know me too well, Ben, you’re a good salesman.”
“And so are you, Henry. We both know how sales work. It’s the same as when you let a customer take a painting they are interested in home on approval. Once there, chances are they are going to keep it.”
Henry nodded and smiled. “You’re probably right, Ben. Well, let’s go, son.”
For the most part, Jeremy and Henry were silent as they drove back to the gallery. Jeremy was definitely not interested in the house, he was adamant about that.
The Angelic Occurrence Page 54
