PART ONE
June pulled her car over to the side of the road. She had never been to one of those. Most people have a yard sale to get rid of their crap, hoping it becomes someone else’s crap.
Estates sales were different. Often, these were held because the original owner had shuffled off their mortal coil. Or at least, shuffled off to the nursing facility.
Maybe there will be some priceless antiques I can buy for a few bucks, and get rich? She thought to herself. She had seen enough episodes of Antiques Roadshow to know it could happen.
“Shit, what am I thinking?” She asked herself in the rearview mirror, “I just hope I can replace that ugly butter dish.” Along with mismatched pots and pans, June had been given a slightly melted, yellow and white Tupperware butter dish. Not something that increases curb appeal at the dinner table.
Grabbing her purse, June got out of the car and locked it. “Let’s see what piece of useless junk I can find,” she said, as she walked down the long driveway to the house.
It was an old house, built around the turn of the last century. Ornate moldings at the edges of the roof and windows. There was a large porch that wrapped around the front of the house to the side overlooking the three-car garage. Inside, there was a well-maintained Oldsmobile. Or Cadillac? She couldn’t tell. A much newer sedan with no markings other than a license plate was parked in front of the garage. A young woman stood by the front door.
“Good afternoon!” She said with a smile. “I’m Caroline Devlin, of Devlin Details LTD. Nearly everything in the house has a price tag, and all are reasonably priced. If it does not have a tag, it is not for sale.”
June couldn’t hide the snicker, “Devil ‘n’ Details? Nice title”
Caroline grinned, “It’s my dad’s business. He has a rather, um, unique sense of humor. He is wandering around inside somewhere. If you have any questions, I guarantee he can help you.”
Caroline stepped into the foyer of the house. It reminded her of the old houses they had in movies where there was a person who opened the door and said that they would go “fetch Sir Williams”. The inside detail matched the outside, with carved wood paneling and a curved wood bannister to the second floor. There were some scratches on the floor where there may have been furniture earlier, but had been either bought, or some family member wanted it for their house. To the right, a doorway led to what appeared to be a sitting room, and the left led into a formal dining room and the kitchen beyond. There was a closed door under the stairs. June thought that was where the servants would come and go. There was another couple in the dining room, so she chose to look at the sitting room first.
As she walked in, she felt like there was another person in the room, but turning around, she saw no one. Shrugging it off as the creepy feeling of snooping around some dead dude’s house, she walked over to what looked like a coffee table for rich people. There was no tag on the table or the chairs, but there were serving trays, and several crystal decanters placed there for sale.
She always appreciated how, in the movies and TV, the characters would offer someone a “drink” from the bar. They never specified what the “drink” was, nor did they even have the bottle. They were usually poured from these elegant crystal decanters like those on the table. After seeing that often enough, she started to call them “drink” drink containers. It was not just a drink they offered, it was called a drink.
Shaking her head free from the random thought, she reached over to pick up the nearest one…
~Chuckie had been sneaking sips from the family whiskey since he was 11. Now that he is 16, he was oft to be found at the tavern in town, drinking that same whiskey waiting for news of the war. He was the only man left in the house; his father and brothers were away at the front. Someone had to maintain the business, as his sisters were still too young. Chuckie, who went by the name Charles to seem more mature, stayed home…
June blinked. That was the weirdest thing her imagination had ever done to her.
“It must be the room,” she said quietly. She remembered hearing about how things can pick up the spiritual memories of the people who handled them. She figured it was some crystal kissing hippie, new age stuff. Not her thing. But it did feel real to her, as she walked over to a small side table by one of the chairs. Yet again, the chair had no tag and had a string across the seat to prevent people from sitting on them. Why do they hold a sale, but not sell the stuff that makes the money? She thought, as she inspected the table.
It was very nice, with dark wood, gold leaf around the edges, and leather inlay. June looked at the tag; a little pricey at $250, but it would look amazing with her plants on top of it by the window. They were currently sitting on a stack of milk crates with a towel on top. It has been a slow process, but she was trying to upgrade her furniture. Now that she is working a decent job, she wanted to look the part of an adult as well. The table was well cared for; the leather was free of any cracks. She reached out to feel a peculiar dent in the leather…
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