by Jill Bisker
I looked at Connie. “What do you think? Should we go through a dresser now?”
“I’m up for it.”
The first was a long dresser made of maple with three small drawers across the top and two deeper drawers underneath each small one. The other dresser was also maple, and was a large wardrobe that stood between the far windows.
I pulled open the top left drawer while Connie opened the opposite side. The one I opened held feminine underclothes. I sifted through the drawer to the bottom. Nothing but under things. Connie’s drawer held men’s underclothes. She also looked all the way through to the bottom. Nothing extra was found. The middle drawer was men’s socks. We looked through the other drawers and found undershirts, slips and silk stockings with garters and women’s socks. Everything you would expect in a dresser but nothing unusual.
Disappointed, I went to sit on the bed. “That was dissatisfying. I thought there would be something interesting in that dresser. It just felt like it.”
“Your intuition must be off.” Connie sighed and sat next to me. “Let’s go find lunch then we can just throw most of that stuff away. I don’t think anyone is going to want used under things. That’s just gross.”
After lunch we went up to finish in the bedroom. Connie went through the dresser, throwing out the items, while I swept and dusted the room.
When Connie was done we moseyed over to the tall wardrobe. Opening the door we were faced with three shelves and three drawers. The smell of aftershave wafted out. Even after all these years, the smell of Old Spice was still strong. There were sweaters on the shelves, most were wool and very worn. I pulled out a caramel colored one with leather elbow patches.
Opening the top drawer, we groaned. It was full of papers. I grabbed the top papers. Old receipts. Pushing the drawer closed we decided to leave them until later. The next drawers were the same. Intermixed with the receipts were photographs in frames, cuff links, various flotsam and jetsam of life. Connie lifted a framed photo of our grandmother from the drawer. It was a candid shot of her looking at the camera and laughing. She was sitting outside on an overturned tree with the wind in her hair and an affectionate look on her face—like her love was sent through the camera to the person taking the photo.
Connie handed me the photo, and pushed the drawer back in. We placed it on the long dresser in reverence of her memory and sadness to think she might still be trapped somewhere on this plane of existence. We closed the wardrobe up and left the papers for another day.
Feeling satisfied to have a second room in pretty good order I looked around. We would have to scrape off the blue patterned wallpaper, sand the floors, and replace the light fixtures, but the bones of the room were good. The headboard was unadorned maple planks, and was attractive in its simplicity. The side tables were also small and basic. I looked at the lamps; they would need to be replaced. Ugly, olive green bases, with lampshades that used to be white but were now yellow, stood on the nightstands. They looked to be a newer addition than the furniture. Seventies-era early American decor. Yuck. It would be a charming room after we redecorated with nineteen forties reproduction touches that would bring a little glamour to the room. The windows looked like they would probably need to be replaced although they didn’t seem to be leaking yet. I could imagine the winter wind whipping through them in January. Other than that, it was surprising how little work it would take to bring this room back to its former beauty.
“The dresser’s all clean, so you can put your things in here now,” Connie said. She walked out to the hall with her full trash bag.
“Sounds good. I’m going to change before coming down.”
I unpacked my suitcase, putting everything into the drawers we had just emptied. Noticing just how few things I’d brought with me, I reminded myself that I really had to get over to my mom’s to pick up more of my clothes. I kept putting it off in all the excitement.
Finding my jean skirt and purple blouse I realized how much better I felt when I took a little extra time on my presentation. Reaching into my flowered carry-all I felt to the bottom for the locket I knew I’d thrown into it when I was packing. It was a large heart shaped pendent on a long chain. Simon had given it to me for our first anniversary. I sat on the bed and opened the locket. A small photo of me and Simon smiled up at me. I was transported back to the time we had stayed in a historic hotel on the edge of Lake Superior. He had planned the entire trip as a surprise. The room had a balcony that looked out over the lake, where we had sat and had a glass of wine. I felt a lump in my throat and tears started to stream down my face. He had really tried at first, when acquisition was his aim. Sticking with it was what he didn’t do well. Pulling the photo out of the locket I tore it up. We were no longer those people, and those times were gone. I could mourn the loss but I needed to move past it. Wiping my face with my hand, I slipped the necklace over my head. I still liked the locket. It didn’t need to remind me of Simon.
Picking up the small pile of clothing Connie had left on the dresser top I joined her in the kitchen. “You look nice,” she said. Connie had changed into a pair of white slacks and a t-shirt embroidered with lace, and looked like she had just stepped off the cover of a magazine. Seeing her, I was glad I’d taken the time to dress a little bit nicer for our visit to Louise and Ruth. We would be like the well brought up girls our mothers wished we were but rarely got to see.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was a beautiful spring day. The air was fresh and clean with the sun shining down and warming the earth. Louise had planted tulips along her sidewalk and they made a joyful riot on the way to the front door. The house was similar to our grandfather’s, another craftsman style house built in the thirties. It was painted a rusty red color that was peeling and cracking. There were three concrete steps that led to a faded blue door. Someone had painted a Norwegian rosemaling design of flowers and flourishes in bright colors that gave it a cheerful feel. Connie reached up and knocked.
“Come on in,” we heard someone yell through the door. We walked in and were greeted by a tiny, white poodle that ran up to us and began jumping up and down and barking. “We don’t stand on ceremony here. Come on in. You can leave your shoes on. They’re not going to hurt anything.”
Louise appeared in the hallway, she had an old-fashioned apron over her white blouse and red polyester pants. “Tiny, come here,” she said as she grabbed for the little dog. She picked him up and tucked him under an arm then showed us into the kitchen. The round kitchen table looked like it was set for high tea. Four places were set with pink Depression glass plates, shining silver and white china cups on a white linen tablecloth. There was a multi-tiered plate set with cookies, small square sandwiches without crusts, and lefse. I turned and smiled at Connie. Lefse, a soft tortilla-shaped flat wrap made from potatoes and flour, was something our family made only at Christmas time. I was so excited to have it for tea.
Connie raised her eyebrows at me and smiled back. There was nothing more fun than an old-fashioned tea. We sat in the chairs Louise indicated.
“Wow,” I exclaimed. “This is beautiful. You didn’t need to go to all this trouble for us.”
“No trouble at all. Mother loves a tea party. I’ll just go get her, shall I?” Louise said affably as she walked out.
The kitchen was a bright room at the front of the house. The cupboards were the original simple style from the nineteen thirties, painted gleaming white and spotless. The windows were framed in red gingham with ruffles around the edges. Countertops of butcher board showed signs of actually being used as a cutting board, but were now wiped clean. The floor was tiled in red and covered with hand-made braided rugs. All around the room was evidence of the Norwegian culture that families of the area were so proud of, ours being just one of the few. A hutch, small trunk and mantel clock were all rosemaled in red, blue and green and I wondered if one of the women in the house were the artist. I lusted after a plate with a Norwegian prayer that stood on the hutch.
; Louise came back in with Tiny still tucked under one arm and a little old lady under the other. Louise’s mother must have weighed in at eighty pounds and was probably not even five feet tall. The little wizened face was wreathed with a huge smile, her short white hair neatly curled, and her blue eyes blazing with wit and humor. She wore a light blue house dress that tied at the waist and adorable white tennis shoes. I could tell instantly we were going to be friends. For some reason, I tended to like elderly women and always felt a certain kinship with them. They always seemed so wise and never minced words.
Introducing Connie and myself, Louise led her mother to one of the chairs. “Nice to meet you,” Ruth said, sitting down and placing a crisp white napkin in her lap. “So my daughter tells me you’ve come to redo your grandfather’s house.”
“Yes, we have,” I answered, copying our hostess. “Of course, we have a lot to clean out first.”
Louise poured tea into a china pot that matched the teacups and brought it to the table. “We’ve watched that house fill up for years,” she said. “He kept the shades pulled upstairs but it didn’t seem to faze him about the main floor. He would come home at least once a week with a bag from somewhere. I know he was a regular on the auction circuit.” Louise poured us each a cup of tea and sat down with us, still holding Tiny. She settled him on her lap and he quickly curled up to take a nap.
Turning to Louise, Ruth admonished her, “I don’t think it’s polite to have the dog at the table when we have guests.”
“I’m sure these ladies don’t mind, do you,” she answered, looking up at us hopefully.
I could tell this was a long running feud and was determined not to get in the middle of it so I just smiled and picked up my cup watching Connie do the same.
“Louise,” Ruth said in a stern voice and then Louise reluctantly got up and put the dog on a little bed in the corner. Ruth obviously ran a tight ship.
Louise came back to the table in good spirits. Apparently she didn’t hold a grudge. “Sorry to digress, back to the old house. What are your plans?”
“Well, we’d like to keep the style of the house faithful to the original but with a little bit of a modern take,” I answered.
Connie added, “Laney is a wonderful decorator. You should have seen her previous house. A mixture of vintage, modern and traditional. It was so chic.”
“That will be lovely,” Ruth said. “You’ll have to invite us over to see the results. I haven’t been in the house since before your grandmother died.”
“Maybe we’ll be able to meet the ghost,” Louise added, smiling.
“Possibly. We can’t seem to get away from it,” I said. Taking the opening provided I added, “So is there anything you could tell us about the old house that we should know? Is it built over an old cemetery? Was there trouble in this house? Did anything happen when it was built? Or did the first owners die in the house?”
Louise and Ruth were quiet a long moment. “We don’t want to tell tales out of turn,” Ruth began tentatively, then continued in earnest. “The past is the past. Maybe we shouldn’t resurrect old hurts and scandals.”
“But everyone likes a good story,” Louise added, encouraging her as if knowing the old woman wanted to tell more. “Especially in a small town.”
I could tell that Ruth and Louise knew something and I had a feeling it wouldn’t take very much to overcome their resistance to ‘tell tales out of turn.’ “It’s okay. It’s not gossip I’m after. It’s history I’m looking for. Anything that might give us a better idea of why there might have been some kind of trouble at one time or other.” I looked at them doe-eyed and innocently. After all, history wasn’t gossip.
Ruth looked me in the eye and eagerly dove into the story. “Your grandmamma was a good lady. She was kind, gentle and beautiful. You remind me of her a lot, Laney. You have her eyes. She had a light inside her, and men came like a moth to the flame. They couldn’t help themselves. Whether or not she had any interest in them, they ran after her. You know what it’s like to be young. After a while, it kind of went to her head. I’m not judging her, I would have loved to live that way for a while when I was young too, but I never had quite the charm. Your grandpa was in love with her from the first, everyone in town knew it. They were friends in school but it didn’t go any further for her. When she turned twenty-one her daddy who owned the town dry goods store threw her a party. This was after World War Two, I think, nineteen fifty or nineteen fifty-one. Everyone in town was invited. It was quite the shindig. They had it at the Knights of Columbus hall. They hung twinkling lights and crepe paper in pink and purple. It was magical. That night she took up with a young traveling salesman. He was a tall, dark haired, gorgeous young man. Every young woman fell for him but he was nothing but trouble. I could see that—too slick for his own good, if you know what I mean. For the next month the whole town was talking about how he and Teo were carrying on. But he was only around for his own fun and when he tired of her, he just went off. She was heartbroken, you could see that. That’s when your grandfather started to seriously woo her. I think she was just so sad and desperate she grabbed him like a lifeline. At first your grandfather was ecstatic but I think after a while he realized he would always be second place in her heart.”
Suddenly my grandmother was a real person to me, a young woman who had trials and tribulations, trying to make it through life. “How sad,” both Connie and I murmured together. “I never heard her called Teo for short. How sweet,” I said.
“I know your grandfather wasn’t an angel but he did try to do something good for your grandmother, and it’s not easy to look at a woman’s mistake every day,” she ended cryptically.
“What do you mean? Look at what every day?” I asked, confused.
“Laney, your mother was born six months after they were married,” Ruth said slowly, lifting her cup of tea and raising an eyebrow.
“Oooh!” Connie gasped.
“What? Are you kidding? Does my mother know this?”
“I’m not sure who knows anymore but it was a bit of a scandal at the time. People didn’t openly talk about illegitimacy back in those days. By the time your mother would have been old enough to understand, people moved on to other scandals. Soren could be a bit scary and no one wanted to get on his bad side. They both held their heads high and acted as if the child was his.”
I looked down at my tea. I’d gotten so wrapped up in the story I hadn’t touched it yet. It was an interesting perspective, Grandfather protecting Teoline’s honor. He must have had some good qualities. I realized I had been making Soren one dimensional in my mind.
“Oh my, I’ve monopolized the conversation. Everyone have some lefse or a sandwich. I’ve forgotten my manners in the midst of all this talk,” Ruth said, indicating the treats.
Everyone took some treats from the tray. Buttering my lefse I added a few spoonfuls of white sugar then rolled it up. I brought the tea to my mouth and took a sip, then fought not to spit it out.
“So what kind of tea is this?” I asked, trying to be polite and disguising my displeasure.
“It’s Earl Grey, but I add my own secret ingredient,” Louise said.
I wondered if that ingredient was dirty pond water. Picking up the lefse I made sure to take a small bite, and was glad I did. “So Louise, are you by any chance a budding chef?”
“I’m so glad you can tell!” Louise answered ardently. “I have been watching those cooking shows—you know, the ones where it’s a contest to make something new from the same old recipes. I call it Nor-fush, for Norwegian fusion cooking.”
She looked so pleased I didn’t know how I was going to get out of the house without eating the rest of the lefse. Trying to hide my dilemma, I put down the lefse and took another sip of the tea, forcing it down.
“Is the secret ingredient garlic?” Connie asked, wincing after a sip.
“Oh my, yes! That’s one of them,” Louise answered, bringing her finger to her lips. “But I’m not sure it work
s,” she answered hesitantly.
“This is lovely, dear, but I think I preferred it when you put the rhubarb juice in the tea,” Ruth said, patting Louise on the hand.
The phone rang in the other room and Louise got up to answer it. “I hope you’ll excuse me. I wouldn’t answer but we are waiting for a phone call from Mother’s doctor.”
Hoping for a chance to dispose of my snack, I wondered how I could also distract Ruth. “No, of course, you must answer it.”
As soon as she was out of the room, Ruth was on her feet. Moving faster than I would have thought possible for her age, she grabbed her cup and the pot then rushed over to the sink, dumping both down the drain. “Quick bring your tea over, and hide the lefse.”
We wasted no time asking questions. Connie picked up our tea cups and dumped them in the sink. Ruth then filled the pot with water again and put it on the stove to warm. Looking around I snatched the three remaining pieces of lefse off the tray and the piece that was on my plate and rushed to the garbage.
“You can’t put it in the garbage she’ll see it there,” Ruth whispered quickly. “I don’t want to squash her creativity so we won’t mention that her experiment didn’t work. When you moved in I would have suggested she bring you something but this has been a bit of an issue lately.”
I had to think fast. Glancing down at the lefse I made a quick decision. As I shoved the lefse in my bra, I could hear Louise hanging up the phone. Connie put her lefse in her pants pocket. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Connie and I made a dash to our chairs and tried to look innocent which wasn’t easy when you have lefse shoved in your bra, although I reassured myself that it would at least help shroud what I lacked in that area.
Ruth was waiting for the pot to boil when Louise walked in. “Mother, you didn’t need to strain yourself. I could have made more tea. You all drank that so quickly.”