“Miss, are you alright?” The concerned voice of the elderly gentleman drifted into her consciousness. “You seemed to have had a bit of a tumble.”
June found herself sitting on the bottom steps of the grand staircase, nearly where she saw the woman fall after she was shot. She pushed herself up quickly, not wanting to feel that close to the memory. No, not a memory, a vision? June was starting to feel like she was getting sick.
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, still trying to remind herself that she was June, a 33 year old Labor and Delivery nurse at Worcester General Hospital. She was definitely NOT some ghost of the 1800’s. “Yeah, I’m OK. I must have slipped when I reached for the banister.”
“Of course, Miss. I am just glad you are not hurt,” he said with a smile. “Now, was there anything else you were interested in getting, or just the fantastic decision in this piece of cookware? Perhaps you could use a spoon that would reach the bottom of the pot? It is a little taller than your average stock pot in the stores.”
Though June had been interested in the table on the first floor, if that was the feeling she got from it, she didn’t want to know how her plants might react. I can’t afford to start watering my spider plant with whiskey, she laughed to herself.
“I think the pot will be enough. How much were you asking for it?” June hoped they were not going to want more than the five dollar bill she had in her pocket.
The younger Devlin, Caroline, piped up from where she was standing by the entrance to the sitting room, “I think we can part with it for an even ten dollars.”
The elder Devlin was still looking at June, “Nonsense my girl! For your troubles, I think the least we can do is give her a discount from the already rock bottom prices! I think…” a shrewd look flashed across her face before disappearing into his usual smile. “Five dollars should do the trick. And, we will throw in a very special gift, one of the owner’s last bottles of wine he had in the cellar. You are over 21, I presume?” He winked at June in humor of the joke he made.
“You don’t have to bother Mr…” June started to protest.
“Of course I do, child. There is a storm coming, I have heard. A nice bottle of red would go perfectly with that pot of soup you can make to keep you warm tonight.” With another wink, and a glance at his daughter, who seemed faintly disapproving of his generosity, he vanished behind the closed door. A moment later, he returned with a dusty, wax sealed bottle of what looked like a very deep red wine. With a flourish, he presented the bottle to June, “I would let it breathe for a bit before drinking, but this should do fine. Let me wrap it up for travel while you pay my lovely daughter.”
June pulled out the single bill from her purse, still wondering how she could be lucky enough to have the exact amount he asked.
The elder Devlin handed June the bottle, neatly wrapped and tucked into the pot, “It was a pleasure doing business with you! I hope you have a fantastic rest of your day!” With that, he turned to walk over to the young man who had been inspecting the clock on the mantle over the fireplace in the dining room. June walked out to her car, noting that the fancy car by the house was missing.
She smiled at the thought of the Devlins, driving the old car in the garage, “I guess that isn’t part of the estate. Bummer, I was wondering what sort of memory I would get from that?” As June got into her car and started to drive away, she started to go over the shopping list for the weekend. Oddly, she had a craving for chicken with fennel soup. She wasn’t even sure what fennel was, but she remembered some recipe that a friend shared that had it. She also needed to get a bottle of whiskey.
Caroline Devlin watched the woman drive away. “Dad, do you think she will be back?”
The elder Devlin, having secured the sale of the antique clock, looked thoughtful, “I think so, she spent too much time in the rooms. Besides, that pot has more history than she thought.”
“I hope so. I am still not sure if that couple will do for the house,” Caroline said doubtfully. “They have been the closest to Mr. and Mrs. Charles that I have seen. The client needs them.”
“Our client has time. More than you and I will ever have. Why don’t we see about a groundskeeper? Go open the servant’s door, will you? I will take care of these fine people that are coming up right now.”
As Caroline turned to go, the elder Devlin turned to the middle aged man walking up the stairs to the front door, “Isn’t it a wonderful day for a sale? My name is Abrahm Devlin. You look like you are a man of the earth. Could I interest you in something from the garage? We have some wonderfully classic tools back in the servant’s quarters. Why don’t you follow me, and I will find the perfect thing for you?”
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