by Cathy Elliot
Last night’s dinner at Alice’s had offered Annie an opportunity to tell her friend about running into Gwendolyn at the church earlier and their uneasy interaction.
“I appreciate that you called her.” Annie had said. “I’m sure she was more pleasant toward me because of it.”
“Good. I called Stella too. Their loyalties seem to be with Kate, although they won’t tell me what the problem is. Of course, they’ve known her so long.”
“And she’s a townie.”
“You got it.” Alice had pondered the problem. “I’ll think of something. If only someone would tell us why.”
“That would help a lot.” Annie went on to relate the kind advice from Reverend Wallace. “I’m not sure if it will work with Kate, but I do want to speak to each Hook and Needle Club member alone. That seemed like wise counsel to me. Maybe I can find a way to catch one or two of them at the auction.”
Annie looped her purse over a shoulder, hoping the plans they had laid last night would come to fruition today. She walked to the church’s side entrance, a direct route into the big community center room. As she neared the door, the mass of humanity narrowed into a single line, merging like cattle into a chute. Along the side of the building hung a banner announcing “Community Auction--11:00 a.m.--until it’s all gone!” Because she would be at the church, Annie had dressed with care: black trousers, black flats, and pink pullover sweater. Staring at the others in line, she seemed overdressed. Most were wearing jeans and sweatshirts. She stuffed her pearl necklace inside the neck of her sweater.
She waited her turn to cross the threshold, trying not to push people or get in anyone’s way. Annie recognized a few people. She waved and most returned the greeting. The others must not have seen her. Their mood seemed to match her own--expectant. Would one of the bidders accidentally acquire an undiscovered Vermeer or Picasso?
Though in truth, she never cared much for Picasso. But a Vermeer …
Once she was inside the building, her excitement increased. Annie attempted to remain composed. She noticed numerous rows of folding chairs, the early birds already seated, scrutinizing the list of items soon up for bid. Near the wall, long tables had been set up, laden with diverse items, some boxed, some separate. Over in one corner, ladies from the church served coffee, soda, and snacks. Music blared over the public address system, adding to the festive feel.
The scene reminded her of a country fair. It didn’t match the auction environment of her imagination: priceless treasures, hushed voices, carpeted aisles, and snooty matrons. Wherever had she gotten that idea? Maybe it came from the pages of a Victorian novel.
Annie was eager to get started. The line moved forward a couple of feet. Only three people were ahead of her now. Not knowing the procedure once she reached the front, she started to panic. Where was Alice?
She spotted her friend purchasing a snack at the back table. Annie caught Alice’s eye and waved her over. “I was looking for you,” Annie said, accepting a lemon bar Alice had bought. “What do I do when I get to the front of the line?”
“Obviously, you’ve never attended a Stony Point auction! It’s a pretty relaxed event. I’ll help you get your bearings. First, we’ll sign you up and get your paddle. I’m lucky number 15,” Alice said, spinning her paddle around to show the number stenciled on one side.
“I thought the lucky number was seven.” Annie hid a smile.
“Didn’t get here early enough to be that lucky. You’ll receive a list of the auction items by lot number. Over there on that table are some of the lots.”
“Funny, but some of the lots don’t seem to have a lot to them.” Annie indicated an item at the end of the nearest table. “Like that clock for instance. Is that a part of a lot?”
Alice glanced where Annie had pointed. “It’s a lot all on its own.”
“Doesn’t look like that much. Certainly not a lot. Well, I see I’ll need to adapt to the terms of engagement, so to speak.”
“Yes, you will.” Alice took several steps forward as the line moved, pulling Annie along. “You’re next. Get out your credit card.”
When Annie’s turn came, she had her credit card in hand, along with identification. The man on the other side of the counter wasn’t familiar to her, but he gave her a broad smile anyway. She handed him the plastic card. He scanned it through a machine and waited before handing it back.
“That works. Driver’s license, please,” he said.
Annie handed it over.
“A Texas transplant, eh?” He handed it back to her, along with a paddle. “Number 29. Good luck to you.”
“Thanks.” Taking her paddle, Annie grabbed Alice’s arm. “Let’s go get a good seat before they fill up. Look at that crowd.”
They found seats five rows back and along the outside of the area. Prime property, Alice pointed out. Not only were they close enough to get a good view of each item presented for auction, but they could see who bid. “And we’ll know what they bid on. That might matter as the bidding progresses.”
“Why?” Annie asked.
“You might get in a bidding war over something,” Alice said. “Say you wanted that darling little table over there. But the gal in the blue top outbid everyone for any table that came up. You’d know there wasn’t much chance for you to win your table if that gal won every bid.”
“Why would she bid on every table? How many tables would one need?”
“Maybe she needs lots of tables for some reason. She could have just bought a bed and breakfast business and is outfitting all the rooms. Or has a store in a nearby town called Tableworld or something. It doesn’t matter. That’s not the point.”
“What’s the point then?”
Alice bent closer, keeping her voice low. “It gives you a kind of power.”
“Power? I don’t see how.”
“If you know she’s going to fight you for the table, you can make the decision to give it up, or--” Alice’s gaze darted about as if to make sure no one overheard, “you can drive up the bid.”
“Drive up the bid? I’m not sure I follow you.”
“Well, if you can’t have the table you really wanted, at least the one who insists on outbidding you will have to pay a pretty price for it!”
“But that’s so mean!” The shock on Annie’s face made Alice laugh out loud.
“It is, isn’t it? And I’ve seen it happen once or twice over the years. Not,” Alice said, defensively, “that either of us would ever think of doing such a thing.”
“Of course not.”
“Still, it has its benefits.”
“Like what?” Annie asked, wondering how her friend could make a positive spin out of their conversation.
“You’ll see. Trust me.” Alice’s answer remained a mystery.
Annie turned to her list, studying the less-than-helpful descriptions of the lots. Just titles, really. “How am I supposed to know what’s in those boxes or how old things are?”
“We need to preview the auction. See all those folks crowded around the tables? That’s what they’re doing.” Alice scanned the room, looking for something. Or someone. “Annie, I’ll be right back.”
She jumped up and dashed across to the snack and soda table, disappearing into the folks gathered about the area. Soon she returned, trailed by two teen girls. Alice made the introductions.
“Hannah and Holly, meet Mrs. Dawson. The girls are going to babysit our seats for us while we preview. Isn’t that nice?” Alice seemed quite satisfied with the arrangement as they all got acquainted.
“Are you twins?” Annie asked, looking from one to the other. They were so similar.
“People think we are,” said Holly, giggling. “But we’re not. I think it would be fun.”
“You are very alike, I must say.” Annie wanted to tell them about her twin grandchildren, but Alice’s tapping foot signaled the end of the little gab session. “Thanks for saving our seats.”
“Thank you for paying us each ten bucks,�
� Hannah said.
“Don’t you love easy money?” Holly added with an expression of delight.
“Ten bu--” Annie started to protest but Alice elbowed her toward the hallway.
“It’s a bargain, believe me. Let’s preview all the stuff back there first. The bulky items--like chairs and player pianos and whatnot--are in the Sunday school rooms. You’d be surprised how much they can fit in there. We can check out the boxed lots and little stuff later.” Alice sped through the open doorway, stopping just across the threshold to wait for Annie. “Come on, lady-fair. We’ve got shopping to do.”
Once inside the first room, Annie’s pulse perked up even more. Rows of merchandise littered the space, reminding her of Gram’s attic. She followed Alice to the beginning of the first row, featuring a portable air conditioner, still in its box.
“Must have been purchased by a desert dweller. Not so needed here on the balmy coast of Maine.” Alice wandered along the row. “Some of this stuff looks like garage sale specials.”
“I’m not impressed.” Annie didn’t see one tempting thing so far.
Alice paused in front of an ornate wicker chair. “Look at this! Wouldn’t it be pretty on your front porch, Annie?”
It was exceptionally attractive and looked sturdy, in spite of its age. “I love it. Maybe I could bid on this one?”
Alice rattled her paper list. “Make a note next to the lot number. Write down comments, or you’ll forget if this was the one you wanted when it comes up for auction.”
Annie wrote LOVE IT next to lot number 37. She’d found a wonderful treasure in only the first few minutes.
Apparently she wasn’t the only one. A couple of previewers jotted down notes as they stood nearby and discussed the merits of the wicker chair. Another woman, the lady in the blue shirt Alice had used as an example of bad bidding, slipped into the mix and started making notes of her own. Annie’s fervor fell a notch. Why were these people focusing on her selection? There was a whole roomful of stuff for them.
Make that several rooms full.
Alice, the auction expert, disappeared into the hall.
Annie wasn’t quite through looking and lingered at the door.
“I found a bunch more,” Alice called out from the next room. At the sound of her voice, the whole group of interested previewers moved as one past Annie to the next wicker lot. She followed.
The wicker devotees scribbled on their lists.
Frowning, Annie also made notes next to each lot number. Except for number 31, a charming chair that lost its charm once inspected closely. “Oh, look. A broken leg. Too bad. Otherwise, it’s a beauty.”
“Pretty hard to overlook a broken leg. Especially when you have all these perfect ones,” Alice said.
“True.” Annie continued down the rest of the row and around to the next, not making notes on a refrigerator, a couple of floor lamps, an ornate oak armoire, a workbench, several bicycles of questionable age, and a treadmill in like-new condition. Most of the items seemed shabby and unappealing. “This looks like junk.”
“Placed all together it does. But believe me,” Alice said, her tone confidential as she pointed to a rocker-recliner, “when you see this chair by itself, you’ll suddenly be consumed by the desire to have it. As if you’ve never seen one more beautiful in your life!” She chuckled, but not as though it were a joke. Rather, as if it were a depressing fact.
“Hmm.” Annie studied the recliner, noncommittal. Alice’s premise seemed unlikely at best. She ambled on, indifferent to the allure of the auction items.
Until she joined Alice in front of an antique dresser. “This is the one,” Alice said, whispering just loud enough for Annie to hear. “It’s perfect. Act like you hate it.”
Now it was Annie’s turn to laugh. “What are you talking about? This is a lovely piece. You should bid.”
Alice walked away and stood in front of another treadmill, checking it over, making notes on her list.
“Are you bidding on this?” Annie asked. “I thought you liked the dresser.”
“I do. Just trying to fool the other bidders, so they won’t examine it very well.” She turned to face Annie. “Wouldn’t it make the most beautiful bathroom cabinet? I could have Wally drop a sink in the top and plumb it. I’m in love.”
“With Wally or the cabinet?”
“I might end up a little in love with Wally too, after he finishes the job. Isn’t it great? Not too tall, not too wide, perfect legs.”
“Many people might say the same of you, my friend.” Annie tried to suppress her smile, unsuccessfully.
“Oh, you! Let’s get back in there and check out the boxed lots. We’ve seen enough.”
“I know I have,” Annie said, leading the way. She rounded the doorway and smacked into someone head on.
It was Kate.
16
“Excuse me, Kate. I’m so sorry! I … I …” Annie sputtered her apology.
“Never mind.” Kate narrowed her eyes. “Please get out of my way.”
Annie stepped to the side. Kate stomped around her and into the Sunday school room.
“Well, that was rude,” Alice said as she watched Kate march away.
“At least she said please.” Annie tried to make light of the situation. Then her expression became pained. “I haven’t helped matters at all, have I? Today I planned to try to talk to Kate alone. This friction between us is just awful. I want it to end.”
Alice started to speak; then she apparently thought better of it and clamped her lips into a thin line. Instead she guided Annie to the row of tables nearest the community room wall. They walked along, surveying the odd collection of items. An old violin and bow minus the strings, a ham radio, an old dial telephone, a coin collection with some of the coins missing, a box of sheet music from the 1940s, a chain saw in its plastic case, a box of avocado green glasses in different sizes, and a red plastic box with black knobs.
“That’s a guitar amplifier,” Annie said in response to Alice’s blank look.
“I wondered. Actually, I prefer antique auctions. A guitar whatever wouldn’t make it into the final floor show.” Alice pointed to a box, lifting something out. “Look!”
“Gram’s pillow.” Annie noted the lot number with a pang, pushing away a longing for it to be back at Grey Gables. Instead, she determined to be sure and pay attention when it came up for bid. Maybe it would make a lot of money and honor Gram’s memory in the doing.
Next to Betsy’s boxed pillow, Annie found frames. A box of frames in many sizes. She flipped through them, seeing three that looked to be the right size for her grandchildren’s precious drawings.
“You could paint those,” Alice said.
“Exactly what I was thinking. In fact, I could use the same paint as the cabinets. Or do you think that would be too matchy matchy?”
They were busy debating the issue when a familiar voice interrupted them. “Finding any bargains, ladies?”
“Ian!” Annie said, “I didn’t expect to see you today. How was your big meeting?”
“Very productive, to use the wording of your note.” Ian gave a slight bow. “I was sorry to have missed your visit, Annie. And a chance to examine those mysterious medals.”
“Me too. I would have liked to get your opinion.”
“And I would have liked to give it,” he said, smiling. “Can we set up another time to meet and talk about the medals?”
“What about today?” Annie asked. “I never took them out of my car.”
Alice, who had been standing by quietly, said, “Annie, today won’t work. You have some special plans, remember?”
Annie knew Alice referred to talking with the women in the Hook and Needle Club, especially with Kate.
“Alice is right. I do have some things I need to do. But can we leave it open? The medals are right in the car. Maybe after the auction?”
“Done,” the mayor said. “Now if you’ll forgive me, I have to talk to a man about a horse. Or maybe that
was a house.” He grinned and moved in the direction of the auctioneer, stopping to have a few words here and there with folks along the way.
Annie and Alice previewed the final boxes of items in a rush, eager to arm themselves with sodas and snacks before the auction began at eleven. Annie said goodbye to her baby afghans and the Nutting print. Alice stopped to stroke an Autoharp, saying she’d always wanted one, but Annie pulled her away to take their chosen chairs.
From her vantage point, Annie could see everyone, those seated in front, to the side, and some still previewing the boxed lots. If she stood, she could scan the entire room. She found where Stella sat, as well as Mary Beth. Gwendolyn was still heartily volunteering, making change for a couple of teenaged girls who had loaded up on cupcakes and bags of chips.
On second scan, Annie identified them as Hannah and Holly. Apparently, their twenty dollars was headed for the church roof.
Mayor Butler’s familiar voice came over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen of Stony Point, and honored guests. Welcome to the fifth annual community auction. I want to thank everyone who donated these wonderful items and all our fantastic volunteers. There are no people with bigger hearts than the folks of Stony Point.
“Now let’s enjoy ourselves. Know that when you win a bid, you’ll not only take home the item you wanted, but you’ll buy a plank of new siding or shingles for the roof. Your generosity will help repair Stony Point Community Church, a cherished place of worship that also serves as our community center. We appreciate you all and thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Let the bidding begin!”
The mayor handed the microphone over to the auctioneer with a flourish, as if it were keys to the city. The crowd clapped and whistled as the mayor exited the room with a wave. To the right, Annie saw the air conditioner carried to the front by a couple of men, one of whom she recognized as Mike Malone. It seemed like everyone in town was either here or involved in some way.
“What am I bid for this portable E-Z air conditioner, new in the box? You won’t find a deal like this again, folks. Let’s start the bidding at twenty-five dollars. Thank you, sir. Do I hear thirty?” Tommy O’Connor, the auctioneer, began to get in his groove. The auction had begun.