by Lyn Gardner
“Then how about compulsion?”
“Look who’s talking.”
“What do you mean?” Robin said, adjusting yet another sprig of plastic evergreen.
“You’re re-spreading the tips of branches I’ve already done.”
“There were some holes. You couldn’t see them from where you’re standing.”
Judy narrowed her eyes. “Is that a short joke?”
“No, it wasn’t,” Robin said, doing absolutely nothing to hide her amusement. “But it could have been.”
After giving Robin the evil eye, Judy got back to inserting branches into the faux tree trunk until a few more rows were filled. “I’m sorry I was late this morning, by the way.”
“You had things to do. It wasn’t a problem,” Robin said as she moved around the tree.
“I was also trying to catch up on some sleep. For the life of me, I couldn’t seem to get any last night.”
Robin knew the feeling. She had spent until the wee hours of the morning staring at the ceiling in her bedroom, berating herself for almost destroying their friendship by acting on a dream that wasn’t a dream. Robin took a deep breath. A few hours earlier, she had told herself if an apology were needed, she would make it, and it appeared that time had come. “Look, if it was because of...um...because of something I did—”
“What are you talking about? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Robin’s forehead creased. Was it a dream or wasn’t it a dream? Nibbling on her lower lip for a moment, Robin decided to find out. “Well, I did fall asleep on you and when I woke—”
“Robin, by the sound of your snoring, you were exhausted. Don’t worry about it,” Judy said, plucking and fluffing the top section of the tree.
“I was snoring? Really?”
Judy smiled. “It wasn’t like a three-hundred-pound linebacker. It was more just heavy breathing, sort of like an obscene phone caller.”
“Oh, I feel so much better now,” Robin said, and it wasn’t a lie. She did feel better. Judy wasn’t blind, and she wasn’t stupid. There was no way in hell Judy wouldn’t have realized what Robin had been about to do unless it had been a dream. In an instant, whatever weight remaining from what Robin believed to be a friendship-ending incident evaporated. It was only a dream.
Grabbing the nearby two-foot stepladder, Robin placed it near the base of the tree and held out her hand. “Here. I’ll do it.”
“Thought you didn’t like heights?” Judy said, giving Robin the top section of the tree.
“I’m fine with this.”
Judy watched as Robin took the two steps needed to reach the top of the ladder, but when Robin reached out to insert the last piece and wavered just a bit, Judy gasped. Quickly placing her hands on Robin’s hips to steady her, Judy said, “Be careful please.”
Robin stopped mid-reach, trying to figure out what was worse. Was it the fact that Judy’s hands were on her hips or the fact her backside was in Judy’s face? Deciding it was a tie, with her cheeks flaming, Robin jammed the pointed evergreen mini-tree into the hole drilled in the top of the seven-foot green dowel.
Escaping Judy’s grasp, Robin took the two steps needed to reach the floor before sneering up at the tree. “It looks like a green stalagmite.”
“It’ll be better once we add some lights.”
“Shit. That’s right,” Robin said, eyeing the spire. “It’s not pre-lit, is it?”
“The one in the parlor is, but these instructions look like they were printed on parchment, so I have a feeling this tree is as old as I am.” Seeing a glint in Robin’s eyes, Judy’s shoulders sagged. “Did you just add something else to your shopping list?”
Robin bowed her head. “Maybe.”
“We just assembled it!”
“I don’t mean for this year, but they always run sales after Christmas, and you have to admit it is kind of spindly.”
Judy looked at the stick figure tree and then at Robin, and then resigned herself to yet another shopping trip. “Let me find some lights,” she said, and moving past Robin, Judy lifted the lid of a tote. “Well, shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Look.”
***
Sitting on the floor of Robin’s living room, Judy looked up from the cobweb of Christmas lights draped over her lap when she heard Robin laugh. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about my mom,” Robin said, raising her eyes as she set aside another unsnarled set. “She would have hated this.”
“I thought you said she liked Christmas.”
“She did, but tangled lights gave her the fits,” Robin said, and breaking into giggles, she paused until they subsided. “I can remember one year when she marched off to the store to buy all brand-new stuff because a few of our sets were knotted, and a couple of the others only lit halfway. Then, when Christmas was over, she got it in her head she was going to meticulously rewind the lights back into those plastic trays they come in so they wouldn’t get tangled again.”
“Oh, tell me you’re kidding.”
Robin held up her hand. “Swear to God, but after about an hour of trying to weave the wires into the notches, she finally gave up, but not before she colorfully discussed the lineage of those who invented Christmas lights.”
“Well, it seems Adele wasn’t as particular as your mom,” Judy said, tugging another jumble of lights from a nearby tote. “Because this is a mess.”
“I don’t mind doing it if it’s getting on your nerves.”
“What?” Judy said, looking up. “No, I’m actually enjoying myself. I’m just wondering why the outside lights were so neat and orderly, and this is a rat’s nest.”
“I have no idea. Maybe she was in a rush.”
“Speaking of rushes, since the Black Friday one should be over by Monday, I was planning to take the day to get my Christmas shopping done.”
“You can do it in just one day?”
“Usually,” Judy said as she worked on unraveling the strand of lights in her lap. “I started making a list while I was on vacation, so I basically know what everybody wants or needs.”
“You still buy for your brothers? Not just their kids?” Robin said, getting to her feet with a handful of untangled lights.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Judy said, raising her eyes. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried to persuade everyone to only get gifts for the kids, but unless you can’t see the tree for the presents surrounding it, according to Pat and Doug, it’s just not Christmas.”
“Geez. That can end up being a little bit pricey.”
“Yeah, but it’s once a year, and it shuts them up for at least the holiday.”
As Robin began threading the strands through the branches, Judy counted the piles of lights they had untangled. Figuring eight sets was enough to cover the lanky tree, Judy stood up and began opening the few remaining totes in the room. “If you’re all right with the lights, I’m going to go downstairs and see if I can find some ornaments. This is all garland and stuff.”
“Okay, but if you don’t mind, can you start with the clear totes that have blue lids? Those are the ones I brought with me.”
“I can do that. Be back in a few.”
On Robin’s fourth revolution of the tree, Judy came back into the room. “Do you have a flashlight?”
“Yeah, on the floor of the closet just outside my bedroom. Why? Did a bulb blow?”
“No. I was trying to get one of your totes out of the work area, and I backed into a stack of Adele’s. They fell over, and ornaments rolled everywhere.”
“They didn’t break?”
“No,” Judy called out as she made her way to the closet. “They’re those Styrofoam things covered in sequins.”
Robin curled her lip at the thought of decorating with bedazzled ornaments, and draping the strand of lights she was holding onto a branch, she headed for the basement. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Robin began to make her way through the
maze of totes, only to come to an abrupt stop when she saw Judy’s feet sticking out from under the shelving along the wall. “What in the world are you doing?”
“I told you, they went everywhere.” Judy backed out and held out a handful of the bedazzled balls. “Put these with the others, will you? There are only a few more under here.”
“You’re going to get filthy. Why don’t we just pull out the other totes further down the row?”
“I was going to, but the first one I grabbed weighed a ton, so I figured this would be faster.” Judy ducked down again and army-crawled under the wooden planks. She wouldn’t call it a phobia, but Judy had no desire to have a tiny eight-legged creature crawling all over her in such tight quarters, so when she reached the next cobweb, she paused. As she had done for the first several feet of her travels, Judy examined it carefully before clearing it away with the flashlight, but when she reached the next, she didn’t pause. Judy stopped and swallowed hard. The last two ornaments were nestled against a wall of ominous arachnoid filaments. “Crap.”
“Problem?” Robin said, kneeling by the shelves.
“Um...no. Just need a minute.”
Judy turned her attention to the web, and starting at the top corner, she shined the flashlight back and forth to make sure nothing small, hairy, and eight-legged was home. She wasn’t expecting to see a spider because she hadn’t seen any so far, and she also wasn’t expecting what happened next. The beam of the Maglite suddenly flashed back at her, causing Judy to jump. “Shit!”
“What’s wrong!” Robin reached under the shelves, trying to find Judy’s legs. “Where are you?”
Holding her hand on top of her head, Judy waited for the stars to clear. “Give me a second,” she called back. “I hit my head.”
“Are you okay?”
Judy shone the light on her hand and seeing not a speck of blood, she chuckled. “Yes, I’m fine. No blood. No foul.”
“You need to get out of there. If there’s any more left, they can stay there. I’m not going to use them anyway.”
“Now she tells me,” Judy said, mumbling under her breath. Using the flashlight, she pushed away the cobweb to find what had acted like a mirror and a second later, her eyes opened wide. “Robin?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s something else under here.”
“If you yank out another clown, I swear to God, I’m going to—”
“Relax. It’s not a clown,” Judy said, struggling to crawl backward without dropping the Maglite, hitting her head, or losing hold of her find. “Here, take the flashlight.”
Robin grabbed it and put it aside, her eyebrows knitting at the sound of scraping along the concrete floor. “What in the hell did you find?”
Judy backed her way out from under the shelves, and resting on her haunches, she looked up at Robin. “This,” she said, and with one last tug, Judy pulled out what she had found.
Robin’s eyes bulged. “Oh my, God,” she said, pushing a tower of Adele’s totes out of the way to make room for the trunk. “I can’t believe you found that.”
Judy grinned as she glanced at the chest. Its surface was army green and covered in dust, but the riveted metal edges were still shiny enough to give away its location. “That makes two of us,” she said, dusting off her hands. “Do you want to open it now?”
Robin couldn’t tear her eyes away from the footlocker. “Do you mind?”
“Of course, I don’t mind,” Judy said, waving her hand for Robin to sit. “I was hoping you were going to say that.”
Robin dropped to the floor and shoved the footlocker just enough so it sat between them. She hesitated for a moment before wiping her hand across the lid, and as the dust cleared, Robin frowned. “Who’s G. Anderson?” she said, looking at Judy.
Judy glanced at the G. ANDERSON stenciled in paint on the chest. “Good question. Maybe Stanley went by his middle name, and maybe, just maybe, if you open it, we’ll find the answer inside.”
“All right. All right,” Robin said, holding up her hands. “Here we go. You take one side, and I’ll take the other.”
Both held their breath as they flipped down the latches, and pushing up the lid, they moved a little closer to view the contents of the divided tray at the top of the trunk. A few seconds later, their noses wrinkled in unison as the mustiness caused by confinement blossomed out.
“Phew,” Robin said, waving her hand. “It smells like an antique shop.”
“Yeah, it does,” Judy said as she pulled out a crumpled paper bag and looked inside.
“What’s in it?”
“Bottle openers.”
“Seriously?”
Judy dumped the assortment into her hand and squinting, she tried to read the imprints. Suddenly, she smiled. “I’ll be damned.”
“What? Did you find something?”
“I’m not sure about the rest, but it looks like Adele named some of the rooms after places she’d visited.” Holding up two of the church keys, Judy said, “Sunset Shores and Whitefish Falls. Both in Ontario.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, and the rest are from all over. Michigan, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, and New York.”
“That’s still kind of a weird keepsake, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Adele just liked the places.” Judy returned them to the paper bag and put it aside. “What do you have?”
Robin opened a bag and shook her head. “Coin pouches.”
“What?”
Robin pulled out one of the oval squeeze coin purses and dangled it from its beady chain. “See.”
“Okay, that’s weird, too.”
It was Judy’s turn, and when she looked into the next bag, she laughed. “Key chains.”
“You’re kidding!”
Judy shook her head. “Nope, and by the looks of them...” Judy said, rummaging in the bag. “They’re all from the same states. Pennsylvania, New York...and the rest.”
“Wait.” Robin fumbled through the coin purses. “Same here. Same states.”
“I think we have a pattern.”
Robin dove into the next bag. “Matchbooks. Same places.”
“Refrigerator magnets. Same places.”
“Postcards.”
“Oh, what do they say?” Judy said, leaning toward Robin. “Is there anything written on them?”
Robin flipped each over and then sighed. “Nope. They’re blank, but they’re all from the same places, and add Central Lake, Michigan to our list,” she said, holding up a postcard from that city.
“There’s clearly a pattern to all of this, except for these.” Judy reached into the next bag and then held her hand out for Robin to see.
“Pebbles?”
Judy shrugged and returned them to the bag. “She must have gotten this stuff on vacation or something.”
“Well, this may give us a clue.”
“What’s that?”
“The eighties version of GPS,” Robin said, holding up a wad of neatly folded road maps.
“Let me guess. Same states?”
Robin shuffled through maps emblazoned with logos belonging to Esso, Sinclair, 76, and Gulf. “Yep.”
“Is there anything marked on them, like a route or...or a destination?”
A few minutes later, Robin was refolding the maps and sliding them back into the tray. “Nope. Nothing.”
Judy scratched her head. “I don’t know about you, but if I had a chest of keepsakes, it wouldn’t contain stuff like this. I’d have pictures; maybe some books, a bible...even old school papers, but not coin purses, bottle openers, and key chains.”
“Well, they must have meant something to her,” Robin said, gesturing for Judy to lift her side of the tray. “Lift that, will you?”
“Sure.”
The first thing they saw caused both women to grin, and reaching in, Robin pulled out two teddy bears. One had vibrant pink fur and the other, tangerine, but it was the hearts on their chests that gave them away. �
��Oh, crap. These were all the rage for a while. What the hell were they called?”
Judy pondered the question for a moment. “Care Bears,” she said. “Big in the eighties.”
“That’s it,” Robin said, glancing back and forth between the two before she placed them on the floor. “At least they’re cute.”
“Don’t you mean at least they’re not clowns?”
Robin was about to respond when she noticed what was under the bears. “Now we’re talking,” she said, pointing to the jumble of photographs. “Jackpot!”
Judy grabbed a stack, as did Robin, each flipping over the photos to see if inscriptions were written on the back.
“This is a nice one of your mom,” Judy said, holding up a photo.
“And this is a good one of Adele,” Robin said, doing the same.
“Here they are together.” Judy handed Robin the photo. “Looks like it was taken at a school. See the building in the background. Maybe college?”
“I don’t know. Mom never mentioned them going to school together, but they were only a few years apart, so it makes sense.”
“Who’s Virgil Jankowski?”
“Who?” Robin said, looking up.
“Virgil Jankowski.” Judy turned the photo so Robin could see it.
“I don’t know who Virgil Jankowski is, but that’s Stanley.”
“Not according to what’s written on the back. It says Virgil Jankowski, 1973.”
“No, that has to be wrong,” Robin said, getting to her feet. “I’ll show you. Be right back.”
Robin went to the opposite side of the basement and returned with a couple of framed photographs. “These are the ones I found in the window seat with all of Stanley’s other stuff,” she said, handing them off to Judy before returning to her place at the other end of the trunk. “It’s the same guy. See?”
Judy looked back and forth between the pictures for almost a minute. “This doesn’t make any sense. Why would Adele lie about her husband’s name?” Expecting a response, Judy lifted her eyes, her forehead furrowing when she saw Robin’s stony expression. “What’s wrong?”
“That’s not the only thing Adele lied about,” Robin said, looking up from the paper in her hand.