“You want us to take the desk and the file cabinets, too?” Jordie asked.
“No, I had a new credenza and desk delivered yesterday. I need the computer equipment though.”
“Any other large pieces, Sara?” Wearing a faded U Maine t-shirt and pair of paint spattered jeans Cass’s friend, Ben, surveyed the furniture to be moved. Sara sensed he would like to get out of there before any confrontation walked in the front door.
“My cedar chest in the master bedroom, a bentwood rocker in the front room downstairs, and my grandmother’s antique steamer trunk come with us. Everything else is in boxes and can fit in almost any of the vehicles.”
“Sara, what can I do for you?” Cass was wearing an expression fit for another funeral. “Do you want me to check the medicine cabinet for any other medicines with your name on them?”
“Sure, check the linen closet behind the bathroom door, too. That’s where Ron found the prescription cream.” Sara pulled the door open to the closet in the room stacked with her books. It was stuffed with winter clothes, her tennis bag, and the golf clubs Dad gave her the year he died. She lifted the first armful of loaded hangers off the pole and heard the clump, clump of the men maneuvering a bookcase down the stairs.
“Sara?” Cass called from the hallway. “You want to take this? You left it on the back of the bathroom door.”
A pile of black nylon fluff cascaded over Cass’s arms. Silence filled the air while Sara registered the meaning of a piece of clothing she’d never seen before. The shock of it hit her. She reached out to the door jam for support and closed her eyes.
“Cass, it’s not mine.”
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry, hon. I didn’t connect the alternate possibilities. I can put it back or I can take it out to the trashcan – your choice.”
“Put it back, Cass. It wasn’t there when I left. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, it didn’t take him long, did it,” Cass spouted, defending Sara’s dignity.
“Don’t try to placate me. I’m the one who walked out.” They could hear Ben’s and Jordie’s footsteps returning for another load. Sara shook her head, reached into the closet and pulled out another armful of outdated clothes that would probably end up in a Salvation Army box. Before long all evidence that she had lived there was gone from the second floor: boxes of books, storage cartons of files, picture albums, family quilts, clothes, and awards. She’d removed all trace of a marriage gone wrong.
Jordie called out from the living room, “Sara, is this the rocker that goes?” She came down the steps for the last time; he stood behind a pile of electronic equipment with his hand on the back of Sara’s bentwood rocker.
“That’s the rocker. Ron gave it to me just before Carl was born. I used it in the nursery. Now, it’s good just to sit in and sip a cup of tea.”
“This note was lying on the seat.” Jordie handed her a folded piece of yellow notepaper with Ron’s handwriting scrawled across the top. She read the message over a second time, wadded the paper up, and chucked it into the middle of the stack of black electronic boxes.
Looking up, she saw Cass well up with tears and the men stare out the window trying to be invisible. It took a few minutes to realize her face was wet. Wiping away the evidence Sara walked into the kitchen, grabbed a plastic grocery bag from the pile growing on the table, and began opening drawers.
“Sara, what did he say?” Cass stood in the kitchen doorway, arms folded across her chest.
“Nothing important, he wants me to take the television and sound system.”
“Are you gonna?”
Sara shook her head and began sifting through drawers for pieces of her heritage, pieces Ron never used – Aunt Ida’s pastry blender, Grammy Sims noodle cutter, the kitchen utensils Cass gave her as a wedding present that were used once but he thought inferior. Not much in the kitchen she could lay claim to. When she’d worked her way around the u-shaped bank of cabinets, Sara reached into the back of the pantry and pulled out all the cast iron from her past. “That’ll do it for here. Let’s tackle the garage,” Sara tried to bring a light voice to the pallbearers of her marriage.
In the garage, Cass leaned over and gently removed the cobwebs dangling from her hair. “Let’s go kiddo, almost done,” she whispered and rubbed her hand across Sara’s shoulders.
Up in the attic of the two-car garage, Sara reached for a light chain and wondered why they never had wall switches put in. “Guys, the stack of boxes and the antique steamer chest are under that blue tarp in the corner. Everything under the tarp goes. They’re things from my parents and grandparents.”
The two men lifted and folded the blue plastic cover then began the long trek to haul the boxes to the vehicles. “Sara, what’s this pile over here by the stairs?”
“Carl’s stuff, it’s supposed to be under another tarp. Looks like Ron’s been going through it. It’s just like him to leave things out. I hope mice haven’t gotten into it.”
“Do you want to take something as a remembrance?”
“No, Cass, I can’t.”
“You should, even if you just stuff it in the bottom of a chest or a drawer. Don’t burn this bridge, Sara. It’s not healthy.”
“Okay.” Sara took a deep breath and knelt down in front of the pain she carried for seven months. She began straightening the contents of several boxes, replacing lids. In the box marked office she found the miniature rubberized figure from the Star Wars collection. He’d always kept it in front of the monitor of his computer. He’d said it brought him luck.
“What’s that?” Cass asked as she lifted it up.
“Jabba the Hut.”
“Jabba the what?”
“You know, from Star Wars.”
“And what does a Jabba do?”
“He eats people.” Sara squeezed the sides of the green and white figure’s smile, opened its mouth, and pulled out a plastic critter.
“That’s disgusting!” Cass shook her head.
“I like it.” Sara announced, pulled Jabba from Cass’s hands and tucked him under her arm.
Cass pulled out two framed pictures from the same box: one of Carl’s college graduation with Ron and Sara flanking their son, the other of Carl, Jordie and Stacy on a rocky beach not too many years ago, three young people with their lives ahead of them. Sara’s vision blurred again. “You’re keeping these and there will be no argument!” demanded Mother Cass.
Sara picked up a slim leather case in the bottom of the box and stuffed it in her pocket.
“What was that?”
“The pen and pencil set we gave him at his high school graduation. It was attached to the airline tickets for his European tour.”
“Shouldn’t you open it to make sure they’re still inside?”
“You can if you want. But, I’m sure they are.” Sara pulled it back out of her pocket and passed it over her head. She heard the snap of the case when Cass closed it back up.
“How did you know?”
“He was afraid he would lose them. He was always losing pens. So, he kept them safe, in his desk drawer.” Sara wiped her dusty hands on her jeans. “It was easier than I thought.”
Cass whispered in her ear, “Maybe because you know he’s still with you.”
***
Later, in the back bedroom of Sara’s new home, Cass said, “Sara, you need to take a break. You can empty boxes another time.”
“How long have you known me? Don’t answer that.” Sara lifted another stack of books from the box in front of her. “You know I won’t be satisfied until everything is in its place, either now or the middle of the night. There’s another bottle of wine in the fridge, will you please find something to do other than nag.” She placed the top book of the stack onto her new desk and glanced at its title. War and Peace. How appropriate.
“Cass, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you. And, you’re right; we’ve been at this all day.”
“No, you’ve been at this all weekend, and you’re exhauste
d.”
“I tell you what. You go open another bottle of wine and stir the stew in the crock-pot. As soon as I’ve put this stack of books on the shelf, I’ll join you on the couch, put my feet up and try real hard to work through the last of the Chablis with you.”
“It’s a deal. You have five minutes; then I’m coming back in here and drag you to the couch. I’ll tie you down if I have to, but you are going to spend the next hour taking a break.”
The portable radio was playing oldies from the kitchen table; Karen Carpenter filled the quiet with “We’ve only just begun to live….” They were stretched out on the sofa with their feet propped up on the glass top of Sara’s new coffee table. “I feel bad about not feeding Ben and Jordie.”
“Ben has a soccer game to coach. Jordie is in negotiations with a group to reopen The Art Shop.”
“Hey, that’s great. Do you think he can swing it? Does he need some additional backing?”
“Right now, he’s trying to squeeze in meetings with the craziness of preparing for his show. I’ll let you know.” After a moment’s pause Cass added, “The stew smells good. When’s dinner?”
“I guess we could eat any time. I’ll put it in the bowls and warm up the bread.” Sara began to lift off the couch. Cass grabbed her arm.
“It can wait until we’ve finished this glass. Then I’ll serve it up.” At the sound of the door bell they both pivoted in their seats to peek out the café curtains behind the sofa, bumping heads in the process.
“Who’s that?”
In the driveway Sara recognized the Stafford Company van. “Great! This is just what I need, a confrontation with Ron.”
“You want me to deal with him. I still remember that black piece of peek-a-boo from his bathroom.” Cass began to heave herself out of the sofa when Sara pulled her back.
“Nah, I’ll take care of this. Sit back and put your feet up.”
At the door, Sara recognized the last person she could possibly yell at. “Hey, Allen, are you slumming?” She pulled the door open wider and made a sweeping gesture with her arm for him to enter.
“I’m the bearer of gifts. I’ve come to install it and ask how you’re doing.” He scanned the living area around him, nodded to Cass on the couch, and sniffed the aroma of food cooking.
“Bearer of what gifts?” Sara asked.
“Something smells good. Am I interrupting dinner?”
“Not yet,” Cass spouted from her seat.
“Allen, have you eaten? Are you hungry? There’s plenty of stew. We’re jus’ finishing off a bottle of Chablis. Would ya like a glass?” Sara hoped she hadn’t slurred that last bit, but from the grin on his face, she might have.
“No, yes, and yes I would like to join you.”
It took a few minutes, but Sara thought she’d figured out his cryptic answer. “Okay, Cass, will you do the honors and pour another glass of wine for our guest? I’ll serve the stew.” She began to set the table. Allen took the empty wine glass from her hand and replaced it with a soup bowl. Sara looked down and stared in confusion. “Oh, wrong bowl.”
Cass and Sara sat at the table and watched as he served up the stew and joined them for their modest feast. “Thank you, Allen.” Sara said and drained the last of her glass. Raising the empty into the air, she toasted to friends.
“To friends,” Cass and Allen repeated.
“I think we need another bottle of wine. I’m empty.”
“Ladies, how about I make a large pot of coffee to go with our dinner.”
“Why thank you, Allen, that’s gracious of you.” She concentrated on her enunciation.
“We like tea better,” Cass added.
“Kettle’s on the stove,” they said simultaneously, waving their arms in the general direction of the kitchen.
***
Sunday morning Sara rolled over in her new bed, the smell of clean sheets a direct contrast to the pounding in her head and sour taste in her mouth. Trying to clear her vision, she focused on the blur of the evening before. She remembered the wine, Cass, and Allen, and why she didn’t usually drink more than one glass. Stumbling through the hall into the bathroom, she popped a couple aspirin and then headed for the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. At the entrance to the living room she stopped in amazement. A complete home theatre sat in her new entertainment center on the far wall; side speakers were tucked into every corner of the room. The kitchen was clean and a note on top of the coffee table was held down by a remote that looked vaguely familiar. “Oh my God!” She grabbed her head and waited ‘til the throbbing stopped.
The doorbell chimed while she sat at the table with her head in her hands. Maybe whoever it was would go away. A few minutes later the chimes reverberated in her head again. “Sh.” Even her whisper sounded like an echo in the Grand Canyon. Rising slowly, she tried moving to silence the idiot at the door without moving her head.
She was half way across the room when the door opened. “Cass, I know you’re my dearest friend, but if you ring that doorbell one more time, I’m going to punch your lights out. For God’s sake, use your key.”
“Don’t yell, Sara, an anvil chorus is rehearsing inside my skull. I came over to borrow some aspirin, I’m out.”
“On the bathroom counter; want some coffee?”
“Sure.” Cass walked down the hall like the doomed to the gallows.
Later, they sat across from each other, sipping coffee, and staring at a plate full of dry toast.
“Cass, what the hell happened last night?”
“My best guess is we drained three bottles of Chablis, entertained Allen, and then, after we tucked you in, he walked me home and put me to bed. I don’t remember anything else and I sincerely hope that’s because there isn’t anything else to remember. I swear no more than one glass of wine per night for the rest of my life. It isn’t worth this kind of pain.”
“He put us to bed? Damn, I can hear Ron now.”
“Do you think he’d tell Ron?”
“Would you keep that kind of information to yourself?”
“Maybe, ah hell, he won’t. You shouldn’t care what Ron thinks anyway.” Cass looked around the kitchen and living room. “How long have you been up? This place was a pile of boxes and packing paper last thing I remember.”
“I think Allen cleaned up last night. He also obviously installed the gift he came bearing.”
“Hmm?”
“The reason he showed up in the first place.” Sara pointed to the far wall in the living room area. “Check out the note on the coffee table.”
Cass slid the wrinkled note out from under the remote and read the added post script “PPS: I sent Allen so you can’t refuse.’”
“You mean to tell me Allen cleaned up our mess and installed a home theatre system while we slept?”
Sara nodded before she could remember not to move her head.
“Allen would make a great Santa Claus.”
“We could hire him full time as a kind of shared housekeeper.”
“But we’d never find anything.”
“And, he probably can’t keep his mouth shut.”
“What are you going to do with the MGM sound system and television he installed?”
“Keep it. I’m not well enough to rip it out and drive it all the way back down to Greenland.”
Westminster cathedral chimes start playing in Cass’s pocket. In a few minutes her face changed from pain to concern.
“Are you sure?...How many were damaged?... I can take him, but he’ll have to stay in a cage...Because, Merlin is an alpha male and he will tear him apart...I’ll ask...Okay, hold on. Sara’s right here.”
Cass handed Sara her phone. “Jordie wants to ask you a favor.”
“Jordie, what’s wrong?”
Sara listened to his agitated description of a cat gone berserk, and could not picture that sweet calico cat of Stacy’s destroying an entire art studio.
“He didn’t.”
“Sara, I wouldn’t ask but I have
nine paintings to restore and two that are totally trashed and need to be replaced. Can you take Leonardo for me? I’m going to be working straight through the next three days to get enough for the show.”
“He isn’t rabid, is he? That’s the only explanation I can think of.”
“Not that’s visible, but all the canvases were turned over like he leaped on top then got spooked. His paw prints are all over the floor. He spilled my supplies, clawed a tube of fuchsia, and walked through the entire mess he created. I have to get him out of here, but I don’t want to put him down.”
“Sure, I’ll take him on a temporary loan until after your show. I can’t believe he could cause all that damage unless he was scared by something – even then, not to that extent.”
“Thanks, I’ll bring him up to your place this afternoon. And Mrs. Stafford?”
“Yes?”
“One of the paintings totaled is one of the two you singled out to buy. I’m going to restore the other and create another special for you. No charge, and don’t argue. I’ll be up in about an hour with the cat.”
Looking into Cass’s eyes, she shook her head and grimaced. “I can’t believe Leonardo could wreak that much havoc.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Cass asked.
“I’m calling Ron.”
A few seconds later, he answered Sara’s call.
“Ron, we have a problem.”
“No, we don’t. Allen installed it and I’m not taking it back.”
“Not that, and thank you and Allen for your generosity. Cass and I think Jordie’s apartment has been broken into.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yes, but a lot of his canvases have been trashed. He’s very upset. He just asked me to take Leonardo.”
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