Garage Sale Riddle

by Suzi Weinert

  Jennifer’s heart sank. She’d prepared herself to plan her mother’s future in Naples, which included her own default commitment to fly here whenever necessary, to deal with future traumas. Moving her mother to a dependable senior housing campus where their staff solved immediate problems, reported her health status and shielded her from exploitation would reduce, but not eliminate, Jennifer’s trips. Her mother loved and cared for her when she was little and now she’d return that selfless kindness. She loved this sweet woman, so similar genetically in looks and intelligence, yet a generation apart in age and experience.

  “I think I understand, Mom.” Jennifer stared at her hands folded in her lap. “We’ll make it work, whatever you decide.”

  “But two other things affect my decision. First, fate gave me a cruel lesson with a wakeup call. Second, unlike some of my friends, I’m fortunate enough to have a daughter I love and trust. While I hate the mechanics of going, my decision is still to move to McLean.”

  CHAPTER 20

  This decision set them both making lists. Her mother concentrated on identifying items stolen. From Jennifer’s online search, plus suggestions from her mother and Chelsea, she narrowed names of movers, real estate agents and estate sale specialists to three in each category. “I’ll arrange interviews to select the finalists.”

  Her mother agreed.

  “Estate sale options include emptying everything unsold after the sale, leaving the house broom-clean and Realtor-ready.”

  Her mother sipped tea. “Good to know, if needed.”

  Jennifer blinked into the phone at the first moving company’s logical question, “You say from Naples, Florida, to what address in McLean, Virginia?” Jennifer realized she didn’t know yet. “You can use storage on the other end,” added the moving company rep, “but it adds cost.”

  By dinnertime, they’d both put in a busy day. “I only bought breakfast and lunch food. Shall I grocery shop for tonight or shall we eat out or order pizza?” Jennifer asked.

  “How about pizza? I know a good place that delivers. They have salads, too.”

  “Let’s have our own little celebration party.” Jennifer looked at the menu her mother handed her, punched in the number and ordered.

  “Then we should open some wine—unless Jane and John took it all. I haven’t checked yet.”

  “Don’t worry, I bought some for us.”

  “Where’s my dripped candle in the raffia Italian bottle?” Her mother checked kitchen cupboards. “Found it. Here’s our centerpiece.” She used colorful Italian dishes bought many years ago in Tuscany, tulip-shaped wine goblets and a checkered tablecloth and napkins. “We’d better sample a glass of this Montepulciano before the doorbell rings.”

  Thirty minutes later, they munched pizza with gusto. “A toast.” Jennifer lifted a salutary glass and her mother joined in. “To the pressure we two Ryerson gals can face, because pressure turns coal into diamonds.”

  Grinning, her mother countered with, “To wisdom—may we always learn from our mistakes.” They clinked glasses and drank.

  After dinner, dishes cleared and kitchen cleaned, they relaxed in the den to call Jason. “Hi, hon. You’re on speaker phone with Mom and me. We have lots of exciting news. She’s out of the hospital and surprisingly feisty for what she’s been through.” They heard multiple cheers on the other end. “Who’s with you?”

  “Hello, Mom and Grammy. It’s us, Hannah and Adam. We brought Dad dinner tonight and we’re sharing it with him.”

  “Hello to all,” Grammy said. “Jen’s taking wonderful care of me and we’re having fun tonight.”

  Hannah giggled. “Lucky you. I’m jealous.”

  Jennifer grinned. “You won’t be jealous for long, Hannah, because—hold on to your hat–Grammy’s moving to McLean. Ta-da!”

  “Oh, Grammy, what wonderful news. Woo-hoo.”

  “Jay, any success finding a temporary rental nearby?” Jennifer asked.

  “My turn with big news. The Donnegan kids agreed, for three months. They’re working out a price. Immediate availability and right across the street from our house, Grammy. Their main floor has a bedroom, so no stairs to climb.”

  “Good,” said her mother, winking at Jen.

  “We’re going to bed early tonight,” Jennifer announced. ”Tomorrow’s another busy one for us.”

  “Okay, love from us all,” Jason said. More good-byes echoed behind him as they ended the call.

  “Mom,” Jennifer hugged her mother. “This is terrific news. For three months you’ll live right across the street while we figure out where you’ll be happiest.” They hugged. “Shall we take that little walk the doctor ordered, now that luck has smiled on us?”

  As they moved along the sidewalk, Grammy thought about luck during her many years of life. Finally the old woman spoke. “When the winds of change blow, some build walls and others build windmills.”

  “Mom, where did that come from? I like it.”

  “My grandmother said it often, when I was a little girl. I haven’t thought of it for eighty years until right now. I don’t know how, but I’m going to make this work.”

  CHAPTER 21

  As they strolled along the sidewalk, Jennifer talked about her research into northern Virginia’s senior housing options.

  “Studio apartments have kitchen, living room and bedroom all in one space. Then one-bedroom or two-bedroom units have a small kitchen, living room, sometimes a dining room or den, usually with washer and dryer. They’re about 900-1500 square feet.

  “Whatever you choose is a serious change from your big 5,000 sq. ft. house to something much smaller. Knowing this will help you decide what to take and what to leave. Even if you choose a two-bedroom, an apartment’s rooms are smaller than yours here. The trick is taking only what you need because moving’s expensive and storing, a costly nuisance. If you ultimately choose a one-bedroom instead of a two, you could sell that extra bedroom furniture you took once you’re up north.”

  “Will you help me select?”

  “Of course, Mom. But comparing square footage alone, you have about four times more here than you’ll need there–a big downsize. But we can do it together. Once you’re settled across the street in McLean, we’ll visit different types of senior housing to see what you like best. Using their floor plans, we can pre-fit your furniture. But don’t worry about that yet. We have enough to accomplish here in a short time.”

  “I couldn’t do this without you, Jen.”

  She smiled. “And here’s the good news, Mom—once we select from each room what to take north, the rest automatically goes into the estate sale. We solve two problems at the same time.”

  “Let’s start back home now. I’m tired of walking.” As they turned around, Grammy added. “You make it sound easy, Jen.”

  “Not easy, but lots of seniors have done this and you can, too. How are you coming with that list of stolen items for the deputy?”

  “I finished with the upstairs. John Doe, as you call him, found the safe but couldn’t get it open.”

  “You have a safe?”

  “Fortunately, most of my good jewelry was inside along with…well, I forget exactly what’s there. Which reminds me, put emptying my bank safety deposit box on your to-do list. Should I close my accounts at the same time?”

  “Maybe not. We don’t know yet where in McLean you’ll settle, and you’ll probably choose the closest bank for convenience. Some senior facilities have a bank branch right there. Meantime, bring your checkbook and I’ll cash checks for you at my bank until you transfer to one of your own.”

  “So the bank, the post office. What about doctors and dentists?”

  “In McLean, why not use mine until you choose one of your own, maybe near your new apartment? We could pick up your files now or by phone from up north. We made an appointment with your GP in two days, as the hospital instructed, so we can ask about those files then.”

  “Speaking of files, I have four filing cabinets full
upstairs. What about those?”

  “Glance through them, but if you haven’t time or energy now, move them north, where you’ll have plenty of time.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “What if we give ourselves, say, a week to get ready for the move? In every room, let’s tag each item ‘take,’ ‘leave,’ ‘donate’ or ‘toss.’ That solves the move and the estate sale.”

  “All right. But now, all of a sudden, I feel tired.”

  Jennifer laughed as they walked up the steps of the house. “I’m not surprised. You’re just out of the hospital and busy instead of relaxing. Let’s both get a good night’s rest and pedal forward again tomorrow.”

  “It’s a plan, Jen. A good plan.”

  An hour later, they both slept soundly.

  On the dresser, the dragon’s eyes remained wide open.

  CHAPTER 22

  Deputy Goodwin dropped by the next morning. “Good morning, ladies. Ya got a list for me?”

  “Half a list,” Frances said, “the ‘upstairs list’ with photos from my husband’s photographic inventory. Jennifer made copies for you on the printer. Meantime, Deputy, have you any news for us?”

  “Would you like some tea?” Jennifer offered.

  “Maybe coffee? Instant’s fine. Cream and two sugars.”

  They moved to the kitchen table, where Jennifer brought cups.

  “You can pick up your Mercedes later this morning,” Goodwin began but at Frances’ surprised expression, he turned to Jennifer. “You didn’t get around to telling her?” She shook her head. “Max Roderick stole your car, but we located it out-of-state and brought it back.” He told Jennifer where to get it. “And here’s the big news. Our BOLO netted Max in Michigan and we’re extraditing him to Florida. In their preliminary interrogation, he didn’t tell Michigan cops the girl’s name, but we may have better luck. We’re gonna prosecute him and, unless he pleads, we may need you for the trial.”

  “I’ll be there if you do,” Frances promised.

  “I’ll flash your pictures of stuff he stole when we talk to him here. Meantime, we need your ‘downstairs list’ ASAP. Any chance late this afternoon?”

  “We’ll work on it together,” Jennifer promised.

  “You feeling okay?” he asked Jennifer’s mother.

  “Much better, thank you. And Deputy, I’m grateful you found me and called medical help so quickly.”

  He shuffled awkwardly. “Just doin’ my job, Ma’am. You both staying around awhile?”

  The two women exchanged looks and Jennifer detailed the intended move.

  “Another couple weeks then? We ought to have things wrapped up by then. Thanks for the coffee. See you late this afternoon.” He drained the cup, put it on the coffee table, picked up Grammy’s lists and ambled out the door.

  “Mom, I’ll take a taxi to get your Mercedes. When I bring it back, shall I get rid of my rental and drive your car instead?” Her mother nodded. “Instead of returning the rental all the way to the airport, I’ll just turn it in locally. A Hertz lot is only five minutes from here. If you follow me in your Mercedes, we’ll be all set.”

  “Even… without a license?”

  “Even without. I think you can do it one last time.”

  Mercedes back home and rental returned, they finished the deputy’s downstairs stolen item list and by late afternoon added relevant inventory photos.

  “Dad organized this photo inventory well,” Jennifer remarked. “So sensible. I’m going to ask Jason to do one for us.”

  “Don’t forget, your dad had plenty of retired years to do this before he passed.”

  “Still, I’ll phone Jay about it tonight. Meantime, you’ve wrapped up this list right on time.”

  “Jen, I couldn’t have managed all this without you. Your energy and focus keep me on track. Some of my friends whose children live elsewhere don’t get the kind of steady support you’ve given me. Just want you to know I don’t take what you’re doing for me for granted.”

  They hugged. Across time and cultures, Jen mused, women faced problems common to their sisterhood, drawing them close across generations. She and her mother felt this timeless bond now.

  “Maybe I’m not just giving back, Mom. Maybe I’m also paying forward. When my kiddos see me caring for you, maybe they’ll rally for me some day, if needed.”

  Goodwin returned at 4:00pm to collect their info and pics. “Great,” he said. “Oh, by the way, after they return Max to Florida and before you go north, will you come to positively identify him at the station? Our one-way mirror lets you see him but not visa-versa.”

  Frances stood up straight. “Yes, I will—for myself and those other seniors you said he duped.”

  “And the new ones he won’t get to scam since he’s behind bars. Sorry it cost your difficult experience to find him, but it worked. Thank you, Mrs. Ryerson.”

  When Goodwin left, Jennifer said, “Don’t you think we’ve earned going out to dinner tonight?”

  “Yes, how about Tommy Bahama’s? A fun, relaxed place with island music.”

  Later, Jennifer phoned Jason with the day’s report.

  He listened before saying, “The Donnegan kids are flexible about when we start renting across the street. They’ll wait until you bring Mom back to McLean to sign a month-to-month lease.”

  “Perfect.”

  “And Jen, here’s a list of people who’ve called you, including your friend Mary Ann.” He read her the names.

  “Thanks for playing secretary, Jay.”

  “Actually, I can play a few more games to show how much I miss you.” He heard her giggle. “But what you’re doing in Florida is important. I love you, Jen.”

  Jennifer cradled the phone against her cheek. “Love you too, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The next morning Jennifer turned a notebook page as she and her mother started the take/leave/donate/toss list for the downstairs. “You made terrific progress upstairs, Mom. Just the main floor and we’re finished. You suggested starting in the study.” They strolled into the room.

  Her mother ran a finger across book spines on the nearest shelf. “Books are like old friends.” She chuckled. “We even inherited some from our parents, “but most we collected during our sixty years together.”

  Jennifer continued carefully. “Books are heavy to ship and McLean has a great library. Keep those you really want, but maybe now someone else can enjoy them just as you did. Shall we go through one-by-one and divide them into the four piles?”

  “When your father died, I kept all his memorabilia on the wall just as he left it. The other rooms reflect us both, but this was his room. Not a day passed without his spending time here until…well, the end when he was too sick. Part of him still lingers here. His memory comforts me. Sometimes I come in here to be near him. If I…if I take down his certificates and dismantle this room, it’s like saying goodbye to him for the last time. I don’t know if I can bring myself to…”

  Jennifer crossed the room to hug her mother. “I’ve been thinking about the plaques and certificates, Mom. If your new apartment had enough wall space, you could take them as-is. But what if we take high-resolution pictures of each one instead and make a book of the photos? Then, you save all the information for family history and you can feel near Dad any time you open the album. You’d still keep the originals—out of the frames since flat paper stores more easily—and then you could add these empty frames to the estate sale.”

  “I…it’s a good idea, Jen, but not the same powerful feeling the room gives me.”

  Sadness showed on her wrinkled face. Jennifer needed to give this some positive spin. “Wait, you’ve just given me another idea. Let’s make a second album, one with pictures of all the rooms inside, just as they are now, pre-move. Then more photos outside the house and yard. If you feel homesick for this wonderful place, just open your album for a visit.”

  Picking up on this, her mother smiled relief. “Oh, Jen. What a creat
ive idea. My recall’s no longer crystal clear, and I didn’t want to lose the memory of living here for so many years once I could no longer see it clearly in my mind. But you’ve solved that. Oh, I feel so much better about the move.” She started to cry.

  Was this the prelude to a breakdown? Had her mother faced more than she could absorb?

  Pulling out a linen handkerchief, her mother wiped at her tears, but the crying continued. “Just so much happening…so fast. Embarrassment at my bad decisions about John—or Max, I guess he is—and then the hospital and now moving from the place I know and love to somewhere new and strange. My logical mind knows it’s right, but my heart says it’s wrong—my own internal war,” she looked up, forcing a trembling smile, “which you’re helping me win.”

  “Next year, with all this behind you, you’ll be settled in a beautiful community with lots of new friends and your family nearby to visit and take you on jaunts. Think of it this way: just like the books in this room, your life has chapters. In the first chapter, you’re a baby; in the next, you’re in elementary school, then high school and college. Chapters about your suitors and meeting Dad and your courtship. More about marrying him and having your own child. More still for your Florida retirement years and now this chapter about the move to comfort and convenience in upscale senior housing.” She tilted up her mother’s chin. “It’s the Book of You.”

  The tears stopped. They drank tea. They made small talk. Her mother bridged the emotional crevice.

  An hour later, back on target, they started through the books again, discussing the background of some. “What’s this collection of Civil War books?” Jennifer leaned forward. A surge of excitement swept over her: unexpected new knowledge about her dead father that might also link with the map and riddle hidden back in McLean.