by Jill Bisker
It wasn’t long before Connie joined me, ready with her notebook and pen. “Hey, while I was having breakfast I started some eBay listings for some of the books and things we’d put aside.” She sat down on the bed and started jotting things down in her notebook.
“That’s exciting, how many days is the auction set up for?”
“I put three, enough so people who have searches have time to find them, but not too long so they forget.”
I looked around wondering where to start. There were four boxes of the exact same size piled right in front with nothing on top of them. Lifting the lid of one, I gave a little cry. “Comic books!” They were placed in the boxes standing straight up, each one individually sealed in a plastic bag with a cardboard backer, organized by plastic dividers with names on them. I read off a few. “Superman, Silver Surfer, Iron Man. These obviously came out before the movies did. I wonder if they’re worth anything? Some comic books are worth a lot of money nowadays.”
Connie put down her notebook and came over to look in the box. She pulled one out carefully. “Oh yeah, comics are big business on eBay. I don’t normally buy or sell them, you kind of have to be an expert and I’ve never had an interest in them. I can’t tell what year this is can you? You’d think it would be worth something if it was only fifteen cents when it was originally sold. He certainly kept these organized. They must have meant a lot to him.”
“Maybe the year is inside. I don’t want to open them though, let’s just put these boxes in the hall. We can look them up later.”
Picking up one of the boxes of comics, I was surprised by the weight. “These things weigh a ton. Maybe we should get one of the guys to carry them down for us later.” We went back and forth lugging each box individually then piled them near the top of the steps, making sure we could still get around them without tripping.
I pulled open the top of the next carton. “Here we go. This room must have been where he decided to put the good stuff. He probably felt it was the safest place in the house. It looks like vintage linens.” I lifted up a piece and shook it out. The material was covered with large flowers in orange, purple, red, and blue. “Don’t you just love vintage tablecloths?” I sighed. Digging further into the box, I pulled out at least ten more tablecloths, each with a unique pattern. “The entire box is filled with them and they look almost new. Why on earth would he collect these? Do you think they were Grandmother’s?”
Connie numbered each box and then made a notation in her notebook as to the contents while I put the tablecloths back in. “I don’t know, but these are very popular right now. I’m not sure we’ll want to sell them. We could just divide them up between the four of us. I would actually use these.” She put out her hand and ran it over the material. “I love the ones that are really soft.”
“I like the ones that are stiffer; they seem crisper when you iron them.” I opened the next box and pulled another tablecloth out of the box and shook it out. It was square with sprays of roses at the four corners. “Look how beautiful,” I said, admiring the vibrant colors.
Connie looked over each one then returned them to the box and hefted it out to stand next to the others lining the banister.
I opened a third box and found more tablecloths. I felt down the inside of the box to determine whether it was entirely tablecloths so I wouldn’t have to empty them all out. “What man collects vintage tablecloths?” I puzzled. “Maybe Grandmother actually used these every day.”
“A few may have been Grandmother’s but who needs fifty tablecloths? My bet is that they weren’t all hers. It’s weird that he kept everything organized together up here but the boxes downstairs were such a hodgepodge.” Connie marked the box and took it to sit on top of the two other boxes of tablecloths. “We’ll have to go through these later with Mom and Aunt Shelly. They are going to love these, but there are so many, I doubt we’ll need to keep all of them. How many tablecloths can you use? Besides, we could make some money off the extras.”
Connie returned to the bedroom, and it was on to the next challenge. The room had two closets. The door to one was open and we could see more stuff piled inside it. Without going inside it was hard to distinguish much beyond clothing, but it seemed mostly masculine. The other closet stood closed, its contents hidden from us like secrets. We decided to work on the boxes in front of the closed door as that one seemed to beckon us to explore. I really hoped to find my grandmother’s clothes inside.
I opened an old hat box that seemed promising, as I always liked antique hats. Nestled inside was a beaver skin woman’s riding hat. Intriguing—we seemed to be on the right track. The next box contained six beaded purses, three sets of white gloves, and assorted handkerchiefs. Pulling out one of the beaded purses, I turned it over looking for any imperfections. “I collect these. They aren’t very valuable, maybe between ten and thirty-five dollars, but these seem to be in excellent condition.”
Connie’s notes continued to grow and I was impressed by her organized system. “You know we could go into business together after this,” she said. “We seem to work well together.”
“My mother suggested something like that when I started this project. I hate it when she’s right. If we tell her, you know she’s going to do the dance.”
Connie laughed. “You mean the family ‘I was right’ dance?” She jumped and swayed, dancing as she sang, “I was right.”
I laughed, joining in. It was amazing how connected our families had been. How could I have given this up? We got back to work and I wondered just how long I could have gone without my family in my life.
The next box had more vintage hats but these were a little crushed and would need some TLC if we wanted anyone to purchase them. Now I felt like it was a true treasure hunt! It had become a thrilling adventure opening boxes to the past, each article with a story lost in the mists of time. Connie and I tried on the items for one another, feeling like little girls playing dress-up. Not everything was a treasure, we realized, as we opened a box on the bottom of the pile to find old tax statements and bills. Our mothers would need to go through these then shred them.
Having cleared away everything in front of the closed closet door, we stood staring at the unknown. Was this going to be the door to our own special Narnia? I reached out to grasp the handle and turned. The door didn’t budge. Disappointed, I took the handle in both hands and rattled it. The door still didn’t budge.
“Locked? Bummer! We have to find the key,” I said.
“I haven’t seen any keys yet but it’s only an old skeleton lock so if we just find one key it’ll probably open everything.”
Saddened at being thwarted from our next great find, it was a good time to take a break anyway. We headed down to the kitchen to look for something to eat. While I whipped up some frozen dinners, Connie started going through the drawers in the kitchen looking for spare keys. She pulled one drawer completely out and took it to the dining room table where she spread out a kitchen towel and dumped everything out. I could hear her dropping things back into the drawer as she sorted through the assorted fragments of things that could be thrown away.
While the dinners heated in the microwave, I joined Connie in the dining room to see what she was finding. There were all the typical items one would find in a miscellaneous drawer: a stapler, scissors, nail clippers, pens, old glue, and matches, along with some less common things such as candy canes, walkie-talkies, small plastic army men, and a plastic spoon that said Trix on it. Then, there were the boatload of paper clips, screws, nails and, finally, keys. There were keys that could have fit a multitude of items, suitcase keys, skeleton keys, newer keys, and even car keys.
“That’s a lot of keys. Probably most of them no longer go to anything, but some of them might. We’ll keep them all together, along with any others we find elsewhere. Who knows what we are going to find that we need to open,” Connie said, just as the microwave bell went off.
Walking back into the kitchen, I pulled the dinners out and
set them on the table. “I don’t know if you’re supposed to cook two at a time but I decided to give it a try. You get your choice of spaghetti with meat sauce or spaghetti with meat sauce.”
“I’m not sure, but maybe the spaghetti.”
“Oh, I so wanted the spaghetti. I guess I’ll just have to make do,” I answered as we laughed together. We were both a little slap-happy with all the work and little sleep. “Seriously, we should really go to the grocery store. I need some real vegetables.”
“I’ll call my mom and have her bring groceries when they come over tonight.”
“Connie, you can’t do that.”
“It’s the least they can do if they are going to come and embarrass us. You know they are going to tell about that time you ended up at the police station. I’m surprised it hasn’t come up yet,” Connie answered.
“I was only out past curfew,” I protested.
Connie laughed, “You know, I think thou dost protest too much. Too bad they couldn’t put your name in the paper because you were under eighteen.”
I could see the potential for more stories of transgressions I’d had while growing up. My teen years weren’t exactly the years I remembered with fondness. Like every teen, I thought I knew everything and hardly knew anything. Time to change the subject. “I’m surprised, I really like this spaghetti, add some warm bread with butter and a good glass of Chianti and I’d be a happy gal.”
“Even better, no dishes to clean,” Connie added.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I grabbed a handful of keys I thought might fit the closet in the bedroom and climbed the stairs, praying one of them would open the door. After what we had seen outside the closet, I couldn’t wait to see what was inside it.
“Wait for me,” Connie yelled as she finished calling her mother.
“Tell her to bring Cheez-Its and something dark chocolate,” I yelled back, lying on the bed to wait for her.
Momentarily, she joined me upstairs. “Hey, did someone say nap time?” Connie asked, coming into the room.
“Just waiting for you,” I answered. “If you had taken a little longer I could have gotten one in. Are you ready? Maybe we need a drum roll.”
She grabbed my hands and pulled me off the bed. “Come on already. The suspense is killing me.”
Connie handed me a key and I slipped it in the lock but it wouldn’t turn. I removed it and tried the next but it didn’t work either. Finally, on the fifth key we tried, there was a satisfying snap as the lock turned. Pulling the door open, we both gave out a squeal of delight. The closet was full of clothing. I switched on the light and walked into a long narrow closet that went back about eight feet. Connie followed along behind me. The room hardly smelled musty at all and I realized it must be because it was lined with cedar. I reached out and lifted down a black and navy plaid day dress. “Connie, these are wonderful. Really, some of the colors and prints were unfortunate but still.” We laughed. “Let’s try them on.”
No sooner had I shimmied into the plaid dress than I heard someone unlocking the front door. It could only be our mothers, and I looked guiltily at Connie. “Do you think this is going to bother them, us trying on their mother’s clothes?”
“I hope not,” Connie replied, frowning back at me.
From below we could hear our mothers’ footsteps in the kitchen. “Girls, we’ve brought groceries,” Aunt Shelly called.
My heart was pounding as we went together down the stairs. I didn’t want them to think I was disrespecting our grandmother’s memory. My mother turned to look at me when I came into the kitchen. “Well, I haven’t seen those dresses in years,” she said, laughing.
I let out a sigh of relief. “You don’t mind us trying them on?”
“No, of course not. Shelly and I used to try them on as teens when our father wasn’t home.”
“Some of the clothes from the fifties weren’t as flattering as you see on television shows are they?” Aunt Shelly noted, turning around to check out our outfits. My plaid dress was slightly high-waisted with pockets that stuck out at an angle creating an illusion of wide hips. The white Peter Pan collar was adorable but a little stark against the dark plaid and made me feel about five. Connie’s dress was bright yellow corduroy with black and brown diamond shapes running across the fabric. It had a square neck and full skirt. Her dress was a much more flattering cut but the color was dreadful. If a dress didn’t look good on Connie, I doubted it would look good on anyone.
“Why don’t we have a little fashion show?” Aunt Shelly said. “You girls can try things on. We’ll go sit in the living room.”
We excitedly ran upstairs to change. My next choice was a dark blue-green velvet sheath dress. It fit like a glove, following the shape of my body. It was such a different feeling for me, I felt like a fifties pin-up. I found some black heels to go with it and tried them on. They were slightly tight but I was able to walk in them. Connie chose a wool suit in blue and maroon plaid with a little peplum around the waist.
“There’s no way I’m fitting into any of the shoes,” Connie said grimacing as she tried to force one on her foot. “Grandmother must have been Cinderella.”
“Nice suit,” I told her.
“Thanks, you know you should actually keep that dress. It’s really sexy on you.”
Curtsying, I flashed her my best ‘come hither’ look. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
“No, but you gotta work on the look.”
“Thanks, I’m a bit out of practice. I haven’t had to use my charms in quite a while.”
We started back down the stairs to show our moms. Four steps down I froze, the hair on my neck stood up and I got chills down my body. My breath caught in my throat and I started sweating.
From behind me Connie grabbed my arm. “What’s wrong, Laney?”
My world was spinning and it seemed like the walls were closing in. I thought I was going to fall, then abruptly the sensation went away. Still feeling faint, I sat down on the steps. Connie still had a hold of my arm and she moved to stand in front of me. “Hey, are you okay? You’re as white as a sheet. And it’s cold right here. Do you feel that?”
“I’m all right now. Give me a second. I just felt a little dizzy. But it does feel cold.” Regaining my feet, I slowly walked down the rest of the stairs. By the time I got to the bottom of the stairway my mother and aunt were standing there, looking concerned.
“Come sit down, child,” my mother said, gently leading me to the sofa. I always knew my mother was concerned for me when she used such endearments. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, I just suddenly got really scared and couldn’t move.” Having difficulty sitting down, I hoped the threads in the dress were still strong or it might rip out at the seam.
“Don’t you think you ought to rethink staying here?” she asked, putting her hand on my arm.
“No,” I answered, glancing at her from the corner of my eyes. “Nothing really happened. I didn’t see anyone or anything. No one pushed me. Something just didn’t feel right. Maybe I’m just not getting enough sleep.” My feet were starting to ache so I slipped the high heels off.
My mother sighed, but was taken in by the dress. “My mother always said that was her favorite dress. I never actually saw her wear it, but it was one I would take out and look at all the time. I suppose there probably wasn’t much cause to wear velvet. You should keep it, it’s the perfect color for you.”
“In that dress I would almost swear you were our mother,” Aunt Shelly said as she came to stand near us. “Of course, we don’t have many photos of her at your age and the ones we have are black and white. If memory serves, your hair and eyes are the same color, except for the pink, of course. Her smile could light up a room.”
“Let’s all go upstairs and check out what else her closet has in it,” my mom added, rising to her feet.
I could tell all three of them were keeping a close watch on me as I went up the steps, and they all insisted
I go in front of them. It was nice to know they cared about me, so I didn’t let it bother me. It never occurred to me that I looked like my grandmother, but thinking back to pictures of her, I realized it was true. I was beginning to feel a real kinship with Teoline. I wished I’d known her.
Returning to the bedroom, Connie and I slipped back into our own clothes. The closet was so small we decided to bring the clothes out into the bedroom rather than all of us squeezing into the little closet.
We brought out house dresses, delicate peignoir sets, blouses, long, slim fitting skirts, full dresses and even two pairs of pants. Setting them on the bed, our mothers reminisced about the pieces, remembering their mother as well as themselves in the clothes. She had very few shoes compared to our present day stockpiles. Four pairs of pumps, a pair of sandals and some everyday slippers completed her collection.
There was a shelf above the hanging clothes that was full of round hat boxes, and we excitedly brought them down to look in them. Each box contained a number of hats, depending on the shape and size. I pulled out a pink velvet hat with netting that hung down over the wearer’s eyes and tried it on. I looked at myself in the mirror over the dresser and coquettishly batted my eyelashes.
“I wish we could wear hats now,” I said. “Hats and gloves.”
“You wouldn’t be so happy with it if you had to wear them, especially in the summer heat. It could be quite oppressive,” Aunt Shelly said, coming up to look at me in the mirror. “You do look good in hats, though. Not everyone can pull off the look. And the netting was perfect for flirting.”
“Maybe you should leave it on then, Laney. Emmett will be over soon,” Connie teased.
“Now why would that matter? But you can borrow the hat for Dean,” I countered.
“What’s this all about then?” my mom demanded. “Do we have some juicy details to discuss?”
“No, of course not,” I said abruptly, walking back into the closet.
Connie began to discuss how wonderful Emmett and I would be together so I decided to avoid them. Looking on the floor near the back of the closet I saw a small wooden trunk. It was only about a foot and a half wide and about ten inches tall. It was obviously an antique. It looked like the large trunk in the hallway but was so tiny and adorable with its sloping top and intricate carving. I pulled it towards me and sat on the floor to look in it. The lock looked like it had been broken off long ago.
