The Sounds of Home

by Greenwood Muir, Diane

  "What kind of changes?"

  She chuckled. "I left a folder filled with his sketches in the car. I want to look at them with you and ask about moving walls, etc."

  "Moving walls?" Henry raised his eyebrows. "How much work is he planning?"

  "Quite a bit. Henry, you and I haven’t spent time there during the day lately. It's a madhouse. They need more accessible rooms. At first, I was a bit defiant about making changes in my building, but then it hit me that I was being ridiculous. I’m better at designing those rooms than he is."

  "How soon will you want to renovate?"

  "Not right now," Polly said. "Not even this year. And we'll do it in small pieces. He's looking ahead, not trying to catch up."

  "He always does. That's what makes him so good at his job."

  "Are you two friends again?" Simon asked, taking his seat across from Polly.

  "We're under the white flag of truce," Polly said with a smile. "Henry tells me that he and the kids will do the legwork for us once we decide where things need to go."

  Henry shook his head. "I can't believe this might happen."

  "You understand that if this is my project, yours is building us a nice garage. We've been waiting and waiting."

  "There's always something, Simon, isn't there?" Henry said.

  "That means we're alive. If there were nothing to look forward to, why bother getting up in the morning?" Simon asked with a smile. He put his hand up. "Ahhh, here is one of my favorite people with our lunch."

  Gayla Livingston stood beside him, a tray in her hands. "Hello, Mr. Gardner. We haven't seen much of you lately. I've missed you."

  "I've missed you too, dear. Things should return to normal any day now."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "How your family has transformed this part of town," Simon mused as she drove through their neighborhood. While not every house had been cleaned up, more and more were trying. Maybe it was because others were working on the outsides of their homes, maybe it was because there was more regular traffic, and maybe it was because as people moved out and new families moved in, changes were made.

  "When the Andersons finish their house and we finally get that old mess on the corner torn down, the neighborhood will look very different," Polly said. She slowed as they drove past the construction site, giving Simon time to look at the property. "Are you looking forward to Mrs. Borden moving to Bellingwood?"

  He craned his neck to get a better look.

  "We could drive in," she offered.

  "No, that's fine. I'm here to spend time with you. Go on. I've seen plenty."

  Polly drove around the corner.

  "Every time I see what you've done with this house, I am genuinely amazed," Simon said. "I never expected to see such beauty return to the neighborhood. The hedges are beautifully trimmed, and the house looks regal standing there in all its glory."

  "Henry says we will put a new roof on over the next few years. I'm not looking forward to that mess, but it needs to happen. We probably should have done it right away, but with everything else, as long as there weren't major leaks, we didn't have time."

  "It's always something, isn't it?" He pointed at the dilapidated garage in front of them when she parked. "You’re replacing this?"

  "I'm trying. Every time I think we're about to tear into it, something else comes up. Beware. When we go inside, the dogs will be happy to see us, but they usually keep four feet on the floor."

  "I've met them before," he assured her. "We're friends."

  When Polly took Simon in through the side door, she cringed. Getting the kids out the door this morning had been a struggle and she hadn't realized how bad it had been until she looked at the mud room through the eyes of a stranger. The kitchen was better, but not by much. Dishes were in the dishwasher and food was put away. She'd even taken the time to wipe down counter tops, but piles of stuff sat on the sofas in the back, while more stacks sat in front of walls on top of the counters. A bag filled with recycling hung from the door handle to the pantry. She thought through the state of the rest of the house and decided that offering Simon a quick tour was pushing her stress level.

  Simon walked through the kitchen, paying no attention to anything around him, drawn to the glass doors leading to the back yard. "I can't get over what you and Henry have done. Look at that beautiful yard. This is truly a beautiful place to raise a family." He turned back. "Are you planning to add more children?"

  Polly laughed. "Maybe someday. I'd hate for this big old house to be empty."

  "I suspect those four young boys of yours fill it up."

  "And then some," Polly said. "Would you like to see more of the house? I know you've been through it, but if there's anything you'd like to revisit, I could show you."

  Where had those words come from? Mentally, she kicked herself. She needed to find someone to help her soon. Somehow the solitary living that seemed to be happening in the rest of the world had skipped the Sturtz household. Lately it was mostly kids that arrived unannounced, but her friends and neighbors could show up at any time and Polly wanted to at least be more presentable than this.

  "That's fine, but thank you," Simon said. He turned in place. "There's a wall missing here."

  "We took it out last year to open this up. That's when Henry put the glass doors in."

  "What a nice idea. Do you spend much time in here with your family?"

  "Quite a bit. You can tell by the stacks of books on the floor. Noah loves to read here while I'm working on dinner. That means the rest of the kids are in and out. Cassidy will bring books or her colors over and sit quietly with him, too. It's one of my favorite spots, but I haven't had much time for relaxing there lately."

  He picked a book up from the pile lying on a side table. "How old is Noah?"

  "He's in sixth grade."

  "The Count of Monte Cristo?"

  Polly smiled. "He just finished that. The boy likes to read, that's for sure."

  "That's a big book for such a young boy. Good for him."

  "He's been tearing through my books. Thank goodness for the town’s library. I don't know if mine can keep up."

  "I should spend more time at our library. I get busy and forget how much I love to get lost in a good book."

  "If you have someone special in your life, it's easy to get busy."

  "Up these stairs, right?" Simon asked.

  Polly nodded. She’d given him several openings to talk about Elaine Borden, the woman he'd been seen around town with for the last six months or so. He'd avoided every single one.

  They stopped at the top of the steps and he took everything in. "You've made this a nice spot, too."

  She pointed at the door that led back to Cat and Hayden's apartment. "Those rooms are closed off so that it makes a small apartment. No kitchen, of course, but there are two small rooms along the front of the house, a private bathroom, and a larger space they use as a living room. At least it gives them some privacy."

  "And sweet Cat is teaching at the elementary school this fall, right?"

  "She is," Polly said with a smile. "She hopes to get a teaching job in the area next year and Hayden has one more year before he's finished with school."

  "And after that?"

  With a shake of her head, Polly sighed. "I have no idea. These kids are all growing up and as much as I want them to start their lives, I'm not ready for them to leave us behind."

  "Isn't that the way of it?" he asked.

  She opened the door to the steps leading to the attic, thankful that the last two days hadn't been horribly hot. When she saw a box fan sitting at the bottom of the steps, she chuckled. "Henry is ready for everything."

  "I hope we won't exert ourselves too much today," Simon said. "This old man doesn't need to have heat stroke." He took off his suit coat. "Maybe I should leave this down here."

  "Let me," Polly said, taking it from him. She draped it across a chair in her craft room and when she came back out, he was already halfway up the steps.
Glad that he'd left the fan for her to carry, she slipped her fingers through the handle and took it up with her. Any other day, she wouldn't have come up here in the clothes she was wearing, but she couldn't very well change into shorts and a t-shirt while spending the afternoon with Simon Gardner. That felt unseemly with this very proper man.

  He stopped at the top of the steps, his hand on the newel post. "This was so much more than an attic when the hotel was built."

  "Henry said there is a small stage up here."

  "From what I read, once the temperature cooled down, they held many events in these upstairs rooms. I suspect you’ll discover hidden nooks and crannies throughout the side rooms. During prohibition, if a raid occurred, since their dances and parties were here on the third floor, they had plenty of time to hide their liquor and return to the party as if nothing untoward was going on."

  "That's fun. I hadn't thought of that," Polly said.

  "When you let your children run loose up here, they'll likely find every hiding place."

  She chuckled. "I just hope they don't find unopened bottles of whiskey."

  "Imagine that. After all these years." Simon wandered into the large main room. Three big steamer trunks had been left in the center of the room. Two large wardrobes stood on either side of the windows along the back wall and more crates filled with wood packing shreds were stacked around the room. There were barrels of various sizes, and many boxes, some still in good shape, but most broken down from the weight of other things on top of them. Furniture — chairs, tables, dressers, settees, bookshelves, sideboards; all in varying states of disrepair — was scattered around the room. In and among all of that were oddly shaped containers, children's toys, balls that had lost their shape, piles of what had to be old magazines and more empty bottles like the whiskey bottles they'd found in the underground room.

  Spiderwebs and dust covered everything.

  "Where are those chairs you wanted?" Polly asked. She really had no idea what he had been talking about.

  "Those are in a room back here," Simon said.

  "There is so much stuff," she moaned.

  "I'm afraid this is just the beginning. Some of those antique pickers would have fun digging through your treasures."

  "You get first pick," Polly said.

  He made his way through the clutter to a door at the far end of the room. They had to be standing over her bedroom. This door would lead them to the wing above the kids' bedrooms.

  He had difficulty opening the door, but between the two of them, it finally gave way. A string hung from a lone bulb in the center of the room, but thankfully, enough light streamed in the windows that it wasn't needed. She couldn't have gotten to it in the dark, since the room was packed with more junk. Stacks of old 78 records lined the interior walls, along with vases and floor lamps, more chairs, tables, dressers that matched the others in the main room, pitchers and basins. Four wooden bed frames stood upright between the windows, and two more steamer trunks sat in the middle of the room.

  "I can't believe this," Polly said. "Okay, which chairs are you looking at?"

  Simon pointed to the far end of the room. "Those three back there. The leather is gone on the seats, but the wood is in terrific shape."

  She nodded. "I'll get Henry to bring them to your shop. We'll need to make a path. What do you think all of this is?"

  "I'd say that this was storage for the tuberculosis sanitarium. Maybe some of the pieces are from the old hotel. I'd have to spend time to determine their age."

  "There are quite a few of these dressers."

  He tugged on the second drawer of the closest dresser. Polly was thankful to discover it was empty.

  "These were likely used for patients in the sanitarium. They were cheap at the time, though I'd guess that means something different from what we consider cheap furniture now. For heaven's sake, they've lasted all these years."

  "Could you sell them?"

  "I might know of a broker or two who would take them on."

  "Really."

  "Oh, Polly, you have many treasures up here. The best thing to do is to take photographs of and inventory the items you don't want to keep."

  She sighed. "Right now, I'd like to just hire someone to take everything away. I haven't needed or wanted any of it since we moved in, why would that change?"

  "Because you don't know what you have yet."

  "I know you're right," she said, nodding. "I need to spend time with these things. But I know me. Once I get to know them, I'll fall in love with everything and won't want to let it go."

  Simon took out his phone. "Would you mind if I took some photographs?"

  "That's a good idea," Polly said. "I'll do the same thing. Then we can sit down and talk about what we have."

  The clattering of toenails on hard wood got her attention and she stepped back out into the main room. Obiwan and Han had come up the steps.

  "I thought I shut that door," Polly said. "What are you two doing up here?"

  One of Rebecca's cats skittered into the main room and Polly dashed after it, knowing of course, that it could move faster than her and would find a hiding spot that she couldn't reach.

  "I'll be right back," she said, rushing down the steps. Two more cats were just starting up the stairs and the commotion she made caused them to turn around and dash off. She pulled the door shut on them, making sure it was tightly closed.

  Panting, she ran back up the steps. "I have to find that stupid cat before we leave. Rebecca would kill me if I lost one of her babies."

  Simon was sitting on a straight back chair in the middle of the main room. "It will come out if we don't chase it. I made sure to close the door to that wing."

  She pointed at the other side of the house. "Thank you. There's another room over there, right?"

  "Two other small rooms," he said. "I would guess they were part of the servant's quarters for the hotel."

  "Do you remember what was in them?"

  "If memory serves, they are relatively empty." Then his eyes grew big and he chuckled. "No, I’m wrong. But you need to be warned."

  "What!"

  "There are old rugs rolled up in one room. I wouldn't expect much from those. Vermin would have destroyed them by now. But the second room has a large collection of taxidermy."

  Polly had started for the door, but she stopped and turned. "What kind of taxidermy?"

  "A little bit of everything. Large and small pieces. Most of them are in terrible shape, but several were preserved in glass displays. The large lion's head may have been mounted on the wall of the hotel owner's office. I read somewhere that several of our founding fathers enjoyed safari trips. There is also a black bear's head and a buffalo head. They should all be burned."

  She waved her hand behind her head. "I'm not even looking in there, then. I'll let Henry deal with that." She brought her phone up and took pictures while walking around the room. "I could send these to you."

  "That would be terrific. I'm sorry to be sitting down on you, but I find myself worn out."

  She looked around the room to see if she could find an electrical outlet. There weren't many, but she finally identified one behind several crates. Placing the fan atop the crates, she plugged it in. "Beware. I'm going to turn this on. Dust might start flying."

  Simon took a handkerchief from his back pocket and placed it over his nose. "I'm ready."

  Obiwan and Han sniffed around the room and finally made their way to the center where Polly pulled up another chair. After brushing it off as best she could, she sat in front of Simon. "This is really overwhelming."

  "I do understand why it has taken you so long to venture up here." He bent to take a metal airplane out of a box of toys. "I wonder who would have played with this?"

  "These things all carry memories that we’ll never know," Polly said. "It feels like such a loss. We should be better about telling stories."

  "My mother used to tape little pieces of paper to the underside of many of her treasu
res," Simon said. "She identified what it was, where it had come from, and the year it had been purchased or given to her. Many things in my home still carry her little tags."

  "It's a good idea," Polly said. She looked at him. Really looked at him. Though she'd sat across from him at lunch, he'd been animated while talking with Henry. The two men enjoyed each other immensely. But sitting here now, with his jacket off, his hair a little mussed from him pushing it back while he'd been sweating, he just looked forlorn. "Are you doing okay, Simon?"

  He slowly nodded. "Growing old isn't for the faint of heart."

  "What does that mean? Can I help you?"

  "No, my dear, I don't need that kind of help. I suppose I'm a bit lonely."

  She rubbed the top of Obiwan's head and waited. Simon had started something and she wasn't about to interrupt him.

  He huffed a short laugh and rubbed his handkerchief across his face, wiping away the sweat. Then he dabbed at his eyes. "Sam's dear wife, Jean, told me I needed to do everything I knew to do in order to avoid becoming a recluse."

  "You're at your shop nearly every day," Polly said quietly.

  "You would think that after all these years, I'd have more friends. But good friends are hard to come by when you don't let people get to know you. I spent so many years on the outside of social groups, feeling as if I couldn't let anyone into my heart after my dear wife died. I was content with being an observer. This last year, I discovered how hollow my life was. I needed more than just acquaintances to make my life complete. Oh, the Bradford's are wonderful people and I am grateful for their friendship."

  Paul Bradford owned the hardware store just down from Simon's antique shop. He and his wife, Lisa, who was a mail carrier, kept a close eye on Simon, sometimes frustrating him with their attention, but they really did care.

  "You came into Bellingwood and brought a fresh breeze, Polly," he said. "I was drawn to your energy the first time you walked into my shop."

  She smiled and put her hand out to touch his knee. "I think you are amazing. My kids love coming in to visit you."