by E W Barnes
So, after the paint had dried in the crawlspace, she closed the crawlspace door for the last time. She swung both bookcases out until each was about a foot away from the wall and pushed the right button. The bookcases were no longer “hinged” to each other and settled to the floor like granite.
She squeezed behind the first one to cover the control panel access with brown paper which she then used to cover the fronts and backs of both bookcases.
Then she taped padded blankets to both sides of the bookcases so that all the movers had to do was carry them out. There was no sign of the advanced technology they contained.
At 9:00 a.m., a man walked into the coffee shop. He paused in the doorway, looking around at the patrons. When he saw Sharon, he stared at her. He looked familiar, and she smiled and raise her hand, thinking it might be the moving company representative. He turned to the counter to place his order and didn’t look at her again.
She turned the almost-wave into pushing her hair away from her face and looked down at the book in front of her.
“Are you Sharon?”
A man was standing by her table. Around the same age as Sharon, he had reddish brown hair, hazel eyes, and about 10-day's growth of beard. The man who stared at her was no longer in the shop.
She nodded, and he sat down across from her.
“I’m Caelen Winters with Now and Later Movers.”
“Hi, I am Sharon Gorse.”
“It is nice to meet you.” He shook her hand. “Let’s talk about the items you need moved.”
As she tucked the unread book into her bag, she pulled out a yellow pad and pen to start a new checklist. She explained the circumstances of the move and what she needed Caelen’s help with.
Caelen nodded, making his own notes.
“It would be helpful to see the bookcases - any possibility I could do that this morning?”
“As long as you don’t mind the smell of paint,” she answered with a laugh. She gave him the address as they left the coffee shop.
The man who had stared at her was sitting at a sidewalk table near the door, watching them as they walked out. She smiled at him, but he did not smile back and returned his attention to his newspaper.
◆◆◆
Caelen was already standing outside the house as she pulled up.
“Wow,” he said shading his eyes with his hand. “This is a gorgeous house. Lots of built-ins?” He asked, turning toward her as she stepped up next to him.
She nodded. The beautiful dark wood cabinetry and storage built with the home was the reason there was little furniture to move out after her grandparents had passed.
Caelen looked up and down the tree-lined street with its well-cared for homes lined up in both directions, then back up to the house with its neatly trimmed squares of emerald-green grass on either side of the concrete walk to the door.
“I can see why it sold fast,” he said as they climbed the steps to the wide porch.
Inside the house, Caelen nodded, appreciating the architectural detail, briefly touching the cabinets in the living room, and admiring the crystal knob that opened the door leading to the library.
He beamed when he saw the bookcases. Even covered with the paper and blankets, they were impressive.
“These are unusual,” he said, moving around them and looking behind them. “I've never seen anything like them.” He gave them a tentative push. They did not move.
“You moved them away from the wall?” he asked.
“Yes, uh huh,” Sharon answered focusing on a box that had popped open. She did not see Caelen frown as he looked at the floor.
“The floors are in great shape,” he said. “The next owner is getting a gem of a home.”
Sharon’s smile was perfunctory. She picked up the huge dictionary from the floor, the only book left unpacked because it was so large.
“The gilding on the pages is wonderful,” Caelen said running his fingers along the shining edges. “You’re going to keep it, right?”
“Yes, yes I am,” Sharon said, placing it under her bag against a wall.
The front door opened, and a voice called out.
“Hello!”
Candice McCloud, the real estate agent hired to sell the house, strolled into the library. Flawlessly coiffed and made-up, she was wearing a bright yellow suit with yellow pumps- a perfect match with her personality.
“I was hoping to find you here!” she said. “Oh hello, I’m Candice,” she said, shaking Caelen’s hand, smoothly passing him her business card at the same time.
“This is Caelen,” Sharon said. “He is helping me move the last of the boxes, and the bookcases.”
Using Candice to sell the house had been part of her grandparents’ final instructions, and while Sharon liked Candice, her unexpected visits were jarring. Candice’s arrival was always a pointed reminder that the house and its memories were all going away soon.
“Oh, I thought you were leaving the bookcases here!” Candice said. “It will disappoint the buyers. They had hoped the bookcases would stay with the house.”
“It’s all right,” she added when Sharon frowned. “The contract did not specify that the bookcases stayed with the house, and it’s ok for you to take them. I will explain it to them. I am sure they will understand.”
Leaving Caelen to measure the bookcases, Sharon joined Candice walking through the house to make sure everything was ready for the transfer to the new owners.
◆◆◆
Thirty minutes later they stood on the sidewalk finalizing the last of the moving plans. The movers would be at the house in the morning, and when they finished Sharon would do the final walk-through.
She would meet the movers at her apartment to oversee the installation of the bookcases, and the rest of the items they would drop off at the charity of her grandparents’ choice.
Once everything was out, Sharon would deliver the keys to Candice and the house would belong to someone else.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Caelen said. “Everything will go smoothly tomorrow.”
Candice nodded in agreement as she walked away, already on her cell phone with another client. She waved as she climbed into her car and drove off. Caelen smiled reassuringly and left, too.
Sharon looked over her checklist. It was complete except for one item. She stood on the sidewalk for a long time and couldn’t think of anything else to do at the house. It was time to leave.
◆◆◆
Sharon’s parents lived at the end of a long winding drive taking her past generous lawns and artfully placed groves of trees. Through the landscaping she could see benches, picnic areas, a gazebo painted a bright white, and what looked like an amphitheater. She could not see the well-hidden fences and security systems in place to protect the residents.
Tucked in a grove of birch and spruce trees, the homes at the facility allowed families to live with their loved ones who were receiving care. It was a unique situation which Grandmother Rose had found soon after her daughter Willow’s dementia had taken hold.
Unlike her siblings, Sharon had refused to move when the family moved to the facility. She had lived with her grandparents instead from the age of 11 until she left for college.
Her father opened the door before she knocked. There was a smell of baking bread and quiet voices were coming from the kitchen. One of them was her mother’s voice.
“I am glad you are here, Shar. How did things go today?” He spoke as they walked into the kitchen, the smell of bread making her mouth water.
Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table with a therapist who was showing her pictures. She looked up as they walked in.
“Ambassador! Welcome. Please join us and please introduce us to your charming assistant. We have time before the Russians arrive, oh, wait, no, they are not Russians… Canadians maybe…?”
“Willow, this is Sharon, your daughter.”
“Hey Mom.”
A frown flitted across her mother’s face. Then
she went blank and turned back to the therapist’s pictures. Sharon did not sit down.
“Things went fine today, Dad. The movers are coming tomorrow to move the bookcases and a few boxes. Then I will give the keys to Candice and it will be finished.”
“That’s great, Sharon. Thank you for all you have done.”
“Yeah, no problem. Are you sure you don’t want any books?”
He looked over at his wife and then shook his head.
“No, I don’t think so.”
There was silence between them. Sharon looked everywhere except at her parents.
“Sharon, you know, your mom and I would love it if you would come to visit more often.”
“Really Dad? How could Mom love it? She doesn’t even know who I am.”
As if to prove her wrong, her mother called her name.
“Sharon! You look wonderful! Now remember, darling, don’t drink the water.” Her mother was standing next to her, holding out her arms. Sharon moved into her mother’s hug before she knew what she was doing. It felt strange, like a distant memory, yet warming like the smell of bread.
Her mother sighed and then pulled back, peering at Sharon.
“Just be careful of the bomb, ok?”
Then she was gone, back to chatting with the therapist about the dinosaur she had seen outside her window.
◆◆◆
That evening in her apartment, Sharon pulled the dictionary out of a box and set it on some papers on her coffee table. It looked enormous and out of place there, but she couldn’t think of anywhere else to put it.
It will go in the bookcases, I suppose, she thought. First a doorstop, now a paperweight.
The rest of the books she stacked on the mantel, kitchen counters, and on the floor throughout the apartment, piles in waiting for the bookcases to give them a home.
After stacking the empty cardboard boxes in her kitchen and rearranging furniture, she assessed the spot on the wall where the bookcases would go. She hoped they would fit.
When her stomach growled, there was a maze of boxes between her and the refrigerator and she concluded it was easier to pick something up for dinner than battle her way through the boxes.
Locking the apartment, she walked the few blocks to a local sandwich shop. As the autumn afternoon sun turned the world golden, she realized that for the first time in months, she felt energized. The mystery of the message was exhilarating; exciting enough to even dull the bitter sadness she had gotten used to.
Twenty minutes later she was back with her sandwich order to-go (salami and cheese on Dutch crunch bread with kettle chips).
As she opened her apartment door, a breeze from the open window caused the papers on the coffee table to flutter to the floor. Setting her dinner on the kitchen table, she hurried to close the window and pick up the papers.
As she slid the sash window down, she remembered that it had not been open when she left. She looked again at the coffee table. The dictionary was now sitting to the right of the papers rather than on top.
Someone had been in her apartment.
CHAPTER THREE
The police stayed at the apartment for an hour, leaving after advising her to lock her windows and doors carefully. Since nothing was missing and there was no sign of forced entry, the police dubiously took a report and closed the matter.
At least they were polite, Sharon thought as she double checked the locks on the doors and windows. She knew someone had been there, no matter what the police believed. With all the lights on, she brought blankets and a pillow to the couch, and prepared to stay up watching favorite movies.
She dozed off around 3:30 a.m., waking again at 9:30, uncomfortably hot under the blankets. Her apartment was quiet, and all appeared normal. She hurried to get ready. The movers would be at her grandparent’s house in 30 minutes.
She arrived a few seconds before the movers did. Caelen was not with them, but the crew knew their job and wasted no time.
Sharon watched anxiously as they loaded up the bookcases, worried that they would somehow discover the secret panel, but everything went smoothly and competently, as Caelen predicted.
Sharon went through each room, dusting a little here, sweeping a little there, until she was sure that her grandparents would have been proud of and satisfied with the home’s condition.
The emptiness of the house was overwhelming. Too quickly it had gone from a home full of memories to a house, a building, a tool to provide shelter, ready for the next people to live there as if the experiences of the prior owners no longer existed or mattered.
She closed the door and locked it for the last time.
◆◆◆
It was noon when she arrived at Candice’s office. As Sharon handed Candice the keys, Candice told her excitedly that the deed transferring ownership had been recorded that morning. The house officially belonged to the new owners.
She enthusiastically shook Sharon’s hand, thanked her for her business, and that was that. It was done.
Sharon nodded absently in time with Candice’s rapid conversation. The mystery of the message and the bookcases, someone entering her apartment, and the profound sadness of leaving her grandparents’ home for the last time left her drained.
Back at her apartment, the door and windows were still locked. Nothing had been moved. The pillow and blankets were still on the couch from the morning. She kicked off her shoes, lay down on the couch, and was asleep in minutes.
◆◆◆
She was in a fragrant orchard. She could see houses through the trees in the distance. The trees were shaking, soft white petals drifting to the ground, and she could hear screams and shouts. As she ran, she saw a house on the edge of the trees, frightened faces in the windows. She had to get to the house, to get the people out. Suddenly, the house exploded with fire. The heat of it drove her back and there were sounds like gunshots.
Sharon sat up quickly and threw the blankets to the floor. It was a dream, just a dream. She forced herself to take slow breaths. She was in her apartment, on her couch and it well into afternoon. Her mouth was dry, and her eyes were wet.
There was a knock on the door, and she stifled a shout.
Through the peephole she saw Caelen sitting outside her apartment, a Now and Later van parked close by. Smoothing her hair, and straightening her wrinkled clothes, she opened the door.
“Hey!” he said. “I thought I could help you get these bookcases installed.”
She quickly grabbed the pillow and blankets off the couch and threw them into her bedroom before going to the bathroom to splash water on her face and comb her hair. Caelen and two other movers worked the bookcases into the small space, placing them carefully in the spot she had cleared for them. It was startling how much space they took.
“It would probably be a good idea to mount these to the wall,” Caelen mused as he paused for breath after getting the second one in place. Sharon suppressed a small smile.
“What? Did I say something funny?” Caelen said, grinning back.
“No, not at all,” Sharon answered thinking fast. “It’s just that my grandfather would have said the same thing. You reminded me of him.”
Caelen nodded as the other two movers said their goodbyes and left the apartment. Caelen took a step toward the door and then stopped.
“Look, I know it’s been a long day for you - a long couple of days, really, and I understand if you are not up to it, but… you, uh, would you be interested in maybe going out for pizza?”
It wasn’t until that moment that Sharon realized how alone she had been feeling since her grandparents’ deaths. Her face broke into a smile.
“I would like that very much, but can we get takeout? I feel like I have been out of my apartment too much and would love to eat in.”
“Sure.” Amiability was apparently his default mode. “I’ll go pick something up. What’s your pleasure?”
While Caelen picked up pizza (thin crust with spinach, feta, and crumbled bacon), Sharon t
ook the padded blankets off the bookcases and reached behind to remove the brown paper. She carefully opened the panel, reached into the narrow space, and gingerly engaged the controls that activated the magnetic levitation system.
With a sigh of relief for her squeezed arm, she guided the bookcase away from the wall and looked closely inside the panel.
Everything looked the same and nothing appeared to have been damaged by the move.
When Caelen returned, the bookcase was back against the wall where he and the movers had left it. Sharon was placing books into it, having started with the dictionary.
“It’s looking good,” he said, nodding at the bookcases.
As they enjoyed their meal, she told him how she was working at the coffee shop where they’d met after resigning as a journalist from a small local newspaper.
“It wasn’t glamorous,” she explained. “Just reporting on local charity work, bake-off winners, award-winning gardens, that sort of thing.”
“I dunno,” he answered. “Those are the things that make life worth living, right? Reporting on those things is as important as reporting on natural disasters and politics - in some ways maybe more so.”
“Well, maybe. I had the most time on my hands and that’s why I volunteered to help with my grandparents’ home after they died. My sister is nine months pregnant and on bed rest, and my brother is moving with his family across country for a new job.”
“What about your folks? Are they around?”
Sharon took a drink of water. “My mom is ill, has been for years. My dad takes care of her full-time.”
“I am surprised that you or one of your family didn’t want to keep that house,” Caelen said thoughtfully.
“None of us were in the position where we could take it,” Sharon answered. “I would love to live in it. Unfortunately, there’s not a lot of money in foaming lattes,” Sharon laughed ruefully.
“At least you got to keep those amazing bookcases,” he said, nodding at them across the room. “What made you leave your job as a reporter?”