Unintentionally Yours

by Terry Fowler

  Leah spent the next couple of hours preparing for her appointment. She printed the standard contract and reviewed the internet stats she used to help sell her services. She pulled product pamphlets showing items she’d found helpful in organization. Cecily Byrd did not call back.

  Before leaving, she checked her email and found her parents had arrived in Spain. Leah knew they planned to visit Barcelona and Madrid. Her mother concluded the note by telling her to be on the lookout for a little gift.

  Leah hoped this wasn’t an indication of what to expect over the next four weeks. If so, she’d have a collection of trinkets that needed a home and her parents would be bankrupted with shipping costs.

  How many times had she told her mother she didn’t need trinkets for memories? Maybe she should just place them about her parents’ home. Would her mother remember where they came from?

  Leah searched the internet for directions to the Byrds’ home and found it was in one of the wealthier neighborhoods. She packed her briefcase and dressed in a black pantsuit with a crisp white blouse and black pumps. On her way out, Leah gave herself one last check in the mirror by the door. She looked professional enough. The large silver necklace and earrings her mother had given her last Christmas were the perfect accessory.

  Memorial Day was just past and the late spring morning was rather humid. Leah thought they might be in for rain later. She loved spring but the warmer weather made her want to spend her days in air-conditioning. Inside her SUV, she appreciated the full blast of the air conditioner.

  Leah arrived in plenty of time for her appointment. Was she too early? She abhorred being late and often erred on the side of being an early bird. She turned into the gated community and stopped at the guardhouse to give her name. The man checked his list, gave her directions and wished her a good day before he opened the gate. Leah admired the beautiful homes as she drove. She spotted the street up ahead and made a left.

  Leah parked in the driveway behind Josiah’s truck and reached for her briefcase. Getting out, she looked out over the meticulous landscape. They must have a gardener. Nothing like her parents’ more casual garden.

  She adjusted her jacket and strolled up the sidewalk toward the Byrds’ beautiful brick villa.

  Josiah pulled the door open as she neared. Leah flashed him a smile. “Hello. I’m so glad you were able to make the appointment.”

  His anxious appearance combined with his low tone told of his need for discretion. “This isn’t my idea. Your card fell out of my coat pocket and Mom found it. If she asks how we met, just make up something about business. Don’t mention the letter.”

  “I wouldn’t...”

  A petite woman appeared behind him. “Josiah, where are your manners? Don’t keep Ms. Wright standing on the porch.”

  “I just arrived.” She leaned around him and reached to shake the woman’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Byrd. Please, call me Leah.”

  His mother led the way to the family room overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway and Wrightsville Beach. From what Leah could see there was no need for her services. The room was beautifully decorated with not a spot of clutter or dust.

  “You don’t appear to need help.”

  Cecily laughed and indicated the sofa. “Public rooms. Can’t let my guests know what a slob I really am.”

  “No medicine cabinet sleuths?”

  The hoot of laughter from the other woman pleased Leah. “No secrets in the half bath. Just a small first-aid kit and a bottle of aspirin.”

  Leah grinned. “Perfect. They all envy you your organizational skills and wish they could be the same.”

  “Have you ever looked into someone else’s medicine cabinet?” Cecily Byrd appeared puzzled, as though she had missed out on an obligatory life experience. “I haven’t.”

  Leah sat on the edge of the sofa and placed her briefcase within easy reach. “Not without permission. I don’t like intruding on other people’s privacy.”

  Josiah sputtered as though choking and Leah glanced at him.

  “Sorry. Must be the pollen.”

  Not likely, she decided, reading his thoughts loud and clear. “They make great products now to help with that.”

  “I’ll be sure to stop by the drugstore on my way back to the office. Maybe get something for this headache as well.”

  His mother looked at him. “There’s medicine in the upstairs bathroom.”

  He waved it off. “I’ll get something if it doesn’t go away.”

  Leah wasn’t deaf to his innuendos. If she was his headache, he’d better buy himself an economy-size bottle of medication.

  “Would you care for coffee?” Cecily indicated the beautiful silver service and English bone china cups and saucers on the table.

  Leah had already drunk far too many cups that morning. “Thank you, but no. You two go ahead.”

  “Josiah?”

  He accepted the black coffee and sat in an armchair. He stared into the cup as they chatted about the weather.

  Cecily placed her cup and saucer on the tray. “Tell me about yourself.”

  “I’m a local girl. Grew up here in Wilmington and attended college at the university.”

  “And your parents? Do they live here?”

  “Yes, ma’am, they do.”

  Cecily Byrd showed interest as she continued. “Your last name is Wright? I knew someone named Wright. Now who was it?” She put one finger to her lips. Cecily glanced at Josiah. “I know. He was your father’s best friend in high school. They went off to UNC together. For the life of me, I can’t remember his first name. I wonder what happened to him.”

  Leah’s breath caught. Surely her father hadn’t been Joseph Byrd’s best friend. How on earth had he ended up with her mother if she’d been involved with Joseph Byrd? I don’t want to know, Leah told herself.

  She quickly turned the conversation to the reason she was here. “So tell me why you need a clutter consultant?”

  Cecily glanced at Josiah and then smiled at Leah. “Mostly I need help clearing my husband’s closet. I’ve been avoiding the task since his death. It’s past time but I don’t know where to start.”

  Leah understood. “All those are normal feelings. Avoidance, fear, the need to retreat, holding on to the past, even accepting that you’ve changed but your world hasn’t. How motivated do you consider yourself to be?”

  Cecily sighed deeply. “I’m ready.”

  That sigh told Leah more than Cecily realized. Letting go of her husband’s things would be difficult for this woman. “You understand it’s not going to be an easy project?”

  Cecily’s shoulders pushed back indicating her level of determination. “It took a while to collect all these items so it’s sure to take even longer to let go of them.”

  “Good attitude. So many people think they can schedule a couple of hours one afternoon and get it all done.”

  Cecily laughed heartily at the idea. “Maybe if they’re clearing a drawer.”

  “Exactly.” Leah opened her briefcase and pulled out the stats she had found on the internet and liked to share with her clients.

  “Did you know the average American receives over forty-nine thousand pieces of mail in their lifetime? And a third of it is junk mail.”

  Josiah spoke up from his chair. “I don’t doubt that. My assistant tosses piles every day.”

  Leah felt her cheeks warm. Why on earth had she mentioned mail?

  “And yet we keep so many papers.”

  Cecily’s comment motivated Leah to continue. She read a couple of random facts. “Eighty percent of what you file is never looked at again. Twenty-five percent of people with two-car garages don’t park their cars there. They store their junk.”

  Josiah and his mother exchanged glances.

  �
�Busted,” he said. “Though most of the junk belonged to Dad, I do have a few things out there.”

  Leah tossed out what she considered to be the most amazing fact. “The storage facility industry is worth a hundred and fifty billion dollars—more than the film business.”

  “Seriously?” Josiah sat up, showing interest for the first time since she’d arrived.

  “Yes. One in eleven American households rents a storage space at a cost of a thousand a year. Not only that, but on average it costs ten dollars a square foot to store items in your home.

  “Clutter is a time-waster. Getting rid of it eliminates forty percent of the housework in the average home. As a whole, Americans spend nine million hours a day looking for lost items. And the saddest truth of all is that we spend one whole year of our life looking for lost items.”

  “Really? A year?”

  Leah nodded at Cecily. “So what do you think?”

  “I think it would be a worthwhile endeavor.” She looked at her son. “Josiah?”

  He shrugged and said, “Go for it.”

  “It takes time and dedication and you have to change the way you think about keeping stuff.”

  The older woman nodded understanding. “I’m curious, Leah. How did you choose this for a living?”

  “Actually I have a bachelor’s and I’m working toward my master’s but haven’t completed my thesis.”

  She didn’t share that her life was on Leah-time and her accomplishments in that area were slow in coming. Her progress had slowed considerably after she’d gotten pneumonia the same summer she completed her coursework. Then the old car her parents had bought her needed work and her dad had offered her a part-time position.

  “I also work as a part-time receptionist. One day somewhere between hunting for something I couldn’t find and causing a closet landslide I decided I’d had enough. I bagged everything I hadn’t worn for a year and knew I’d never wear again and it felt so good I kept going. I read everything I could find on organization and realized people’s lives could improve with a few simple principles.”

  Leah chuckled. “Mom thought I’d lost my mind. She’d spent years trying to train me to put my toys where they belonged, toss the broken stuff and give away the clothes I’d outgrown and here I was all of a sudden getting it. She did warn me about going overboard, though.”

  A giggle slipped out. “Said I’d better think and rethink my plan since I couldn’t afford to replace anything I decided I couldn’t live without after it was gone. Anyway, I decided I could do this to help other people and here I am.” She grinned broadly. “And now I need to stop talking before you decide I’m fanatical.”

  Cecily patted her hand. “I think you’re very dedicated to what you do.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Byrd. I like to think my actions will help someone live a healthier, happier life.”

  The woman smiled. “I want to work with you.”

  “Great. I have a standard contract.” Leah pulled the folder from her briefcase.

  “Let me get my glasses.”

  After his mother left the room, Leah glanced at Josiah. “Are you okay with this?”

  His gaze focused on her, his expression grim. “You’re Dad’s friend’s daughter, aren’t you?”

  Leah shrugged. “My dad’s name is Ben Wright. He and Mom are UNC grads.”

  “Are both your parents from Wilmington?”

  “Dad’s family lived here. We moved here because he wanted to be closer to my grandparents and wanted me to know them.”

  “I suppose he didn’t think to look up his old friend when he came back?”

  “I can’t say if he did or not.”

  Josiah swept a hand about his neck. “He didn’t. Probably best since he was married to your mother who despised my father.”

  A flash of anger came and went as she decided he looked stressed. “Are you okay?”

  “Not really. This mess is like a runaway train. I know I need to get out of the way but I can’t. I feel like one of those old cartoons when the villain ties someone to the tracks.”

  Was he comparing her to a runaway train? Or insinuating she’d restricted him in some way. Either way, his analogy didn’t reflect well on her. “Should I leave? Perhaps I can help find someone else to assist your mother.”

  Josiah shook his head. “It’s about what Mom wants. What she needs. It’s long past time she got rid of Dad’s things. She seems comfortable with you so I’d prefer you stay.”

  Relief swept through Leah. She needed this job. “We’ll start small. In fact, it might be easier for her if you helped with your dad’s things. I have a feeling that will be the hardest step for her to take.”

  “She knows what she wants to keep.”

  Leah eyed him, noting the way he fidgeted in his chair. Evidently this was something neither Byrd wanted to do. “Does she? A year has passed and she hasn’t disposed of the items. Could be she can’t let go or is keeping them for you.”

  Josiah frowned at that. “Dad outweighed me by fifty pounds and his feet were two sizes smaller than mine so I’m not interested in his clothes or shoes. And men aren’t like women with jewelry and other stuff.”

  “What about ties, belts, wallets, briefcases, maybe cuff links? Did he have collectibles you appreciated?”

  She could almost see his mind at work. There was something he wanted in this home.

  “He had an impressive gun collection.”

  “Would your mother want you to have that?”

  Cecily came back into the room, her glasses hanging on a beaded chain.

  “Have what?”

  “We were discussing his father’s things and he mentioned the gun collection.”

  Cecily grimaced. “Josiah is more than welcome to those things.”

  “I don’t have space. You sell them and use the money for your new place.”

  She and her son studied each other. “I have enough money. You and your father were the ones who appreciated the guns. And you’d have plenty of space if you moved in here.”

  Leah’s gaze moved from one to the other. “Are you planning to leave this house?”

  “I’m leasing a condo at Topsail Beach and if I decide to live there permanently I’ve told Josiah he’s welcome to take over this house.”

  Leah glanced at him. Would they leave this beautiful home empty?

  He shrugged. “I have my condo.”

  “We don’t have to decide now,” Cecily said. “Even if I buy the smaller place, it’ll take time to sort this house out.”

  “How small are you thinking?”

  “At least half the size of this house and all on one floor. A condo.”

  Leah nodded slowly. The Byrds were talking major downsizing. “How long have you lived here?”

  Again Cecily brought one hand up to her lips as she considered the time frame. “Let’s see. Nearly eight years. We lived in downtown Wilmington with Joseph’s parents after we married and built this house after Joseph’s father died.”

  So Josiah had spent his growing up years in the same house with his parents and grandparents. Leah wondered what it would be like to have three generations living in the same home.

  “There’s so much in this house. Josiah took a few things to his place and we’ve donated over the years but the attic is full.”

  “Well, once you learn organizational skills you’ll be able to clear that out.”

  “We’ll see. I’m sure it will require bringing in someone to assess the value of the antiques.”

  Cecily put on her glasses and picked up the contract. A few minutes later, she said, “This seems doable. Do you have a pen?”

  Leah handed over the engraved gold pen her father had given her for graduation. Cecily signed her name and handed the contract and pen bac
k to her.

  “So when do we start?”

  “Is tomorrow too soon for you?”

  She appreciated the client’s readiness to start. “Let’s say 9:00 a.m.”

  Chapter 4

  That night, Leah lay in bed thinking of the contract she’d signed. Had she made a mistake? Other than a warning not to mention the letter to his mother, Josiah seemed to have relented when he determined she and his mother got along well together.

  Leah still had her doubts. This possibility their fathers might have been best friends at one time and Josiah’s ludicrous references to a speeding train didn’t bode well for the working relationship. Leah still didn’t understand what he’d meant by that.

  And of course the situation had snowballed. When he’d walked away on Monday, Leah had been certain she’d seen the last of Josiah Byrd. Now she’d accepted a job with his mother and made plans to start work the next day.

  The questions about her parents being from Wilmington made her wonder what Josiah was after. Surely he didn’t think her mom had followed his dad here. Or was it because her dad hadn’t contacted Joseph Byrd when he returned? Her mother’s relationship with Joseph Byrd and subsequent marriage to her father made it seem obvious to Leah that their friendship hadn’t survived whatever had happened between her mother and Joseph Byrd.

  And while the friendship hadn’t been validated, Leah knew almost with certainty that they had been in each other’s lives. She wanted to understand the triangle but felt it unlikely that she would. What had Joseph Byrd done to her mother that drove her to write that letter? An angry missive, according to Josiah.

  Marty had never discussed her romantic relationships with anyone but Leah’s dad. She knew they had started dating in the last semester of their third year of college. Both parents had enjoyed the freedom of living far away from their parents.

  Leah’s own college experience had been very different. She had lived at home and gone to the University of North Carolina here in Wilmington. UNC by the Sea, as it was sometimes known.

  Her days had been filled with classes and hanging out with old and new friends. Occasionally she worked at her dad’s dental clinic. She knew he’d been disappointed that she hadn’t followed in his footsteps but Leah couldn’t make herself choose dentistry as a career. Nor had she wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps and become a bank loan officer. The same job Marty had worked to support her young husband through dental school and provide for their family.