“To be honest, I can’t devote a whole lot of time to this project,” Willow told her. “I’d sort of like to have the sale as soon as possible.”
“Next weekend?” Betty asked. “There are a number of sales in town. You could probably piggyback on the traffic. If you like, I could get you an ad in the newspaper and onto Craigslist and whatnot.”
“That’d be wonderful, Betty. And good motivation for us to get it all ready in time.” Willow glanced around the foyer, wondering if next weekend was too soon. Then she remembered the desperation on George’s face. Perhaps sooner was better.
As she began to sift and sort and move things about, she wondered if George was going to regret his decision to get rid of everything. Surely some of these things had sentimental value. She went into the living room, spying the Danish Modern furniture pushed way to the back of the room. George had appeared to like those pieces, even if they didn’t quite go with all the dark floors and woodwork and heavy drapes. If this house was lightened up some, they might possibly work well in it.
Willow made an executive decision. As George’s “trusted friend,” she would attempt to save the items that looked like they might still work in this house ... as well as anything, like the family photos, that had sentimental value. She would find a large room where they could all be safely stored. Then if George didn’t want them, they wouldn’t be difficult to be rid of. In fact, Willow would happily purchase the Danish Modern pieces from him. She still had one apartment to restore and furnish as a rental.
By Sunday evening, after just one relatively short squabble,Collin and Josie had managed to get the rest of the attic emptied, and the “blueprint” that Willow had created for the estate sale was slowly shaping up. Although there was still much to be done, the place was beginning to show signs of order, and Willow knew it was quitting time.
“How about pizza?” Willow asked after Collin and Josie set a bureau in the large downstairs master bedroom where they were putting all the bedroom pieces.
“Sounds good to me.” Josie went over to the corner where George had started setting items aside for her. “Do I really get to keep all these?” she asked Willow.
“George said they were for you. You can take some now and more tomorrow.”
“Cool.” Josie picked up a small wooden chair. “I can’t wait to hit this with paint.”
“Does Mr. Emerson really want to get rid of everything?” Collin asked as Willow locked the front door.
“He said he does. But I think he’s stressed. I want us to go over everything carefully,” she told them. “If you see something that you think he might regret letting go, we’ll just set it in the conservatory for now.”
By the next morning, George felt guilty for having allowed Willow to take over for him at his grandparents’ house. But it was almost as if he had no choice. It felt as if someone had pulled the plug on him. Even as he ate a bowl of cold cereal, the simple weight of lifting his spoon felt exhausting. After he rinsed his bowl, leaving it unwashed in the sink, he sat down in his easy chair and, with Baxter snuggled in his lap, fell promptly asleep. He didn’t wake up until eleven.
As he puttered around his house, forcing himself to wash his breakfast things, George wondered if he was seriously ill ... possibly dying. His last annual checkup hadn’t been quite a year ago, but there had been no concerns. The doctor had proclaimed George in “excellent health.” Even so, George called to schedule another checkup for as soon as possible. After the phone call, he felt exhausted again. So he went outside to his hammock. He picked up his self-help book and read, for what must’ve been the fourth time, the first chapter—then took another nap.
When George woke up, he considered calling Willow to see how things were going. But the truth was, he did not want to know. If she had changed her mind—realizing it was too much to take on—he didn’t even care. He would simply call in some sort of removal service to clear it all out. Maybe they’d do it in exchange for everything that needed to be taken away.
By the time George went to bed on Monday night, he told himself that he’d check on Willow the next day. After all, it was irresponsible of him to just abandon the process that he’d begun. Except that every step of the way had been excruciatingly painful. Seeing old pieces of his life—his brother’s life, his mother’s life, his grandparents’ lives, and even the ancestors that he’d never known—it had all taken its toll on him. As if it had drained him completely and now he was bone-dry and a summer wind could come along and just blow him away. He truly believed his only escape, the only way to survive this ordeal, was to get every last thing out of that house. Like an exorcism of sorts. But he hadn’t the strength to do it.
On Tuesday morning, George didn’t feel any different.He still felt drained and hopeless. In fact, it was almost as if he was now shackled to his house. To step out of his little bungalow would surely invite calamity. Perhaps his heart would give out completely. He picked up the phone several times throughout the day, thinking he would call Willow and ask how it was going. But then he would set the receiver back down again. It was just too much. Too hard. Too painful. Perhaps tomorrow would be better.
twenty-four
Although Willow was somewhat relieved that George continued to keep a low profile while they sifted and sorted through several generations of accumulation, she felt a bit of concern as well. It didn’t seem like him to just let this all go and not even show up and inquire how it was going. She’d known he was stressed and tired, but he’d had three days to recuperate by now. As she carried a cardboard box of smelly old clothes out to the Dumpster that Betty had suggested was necessary for those items that no one in their right mind could honestly want, Willow considered calling George and inviting him to come see their progress. Really, he should be relieved and impressed to see what they’d accomplished in just a few days.
Betty’s granddaughter, Savannah, was a real godsend. Energetic and smart about antiques and collectibles, the nineteen-year-old girl had even managed to turn Collin’s head with her good-natured teasing and flirting. Or at least she’d distracted him from his disturbing obsession over Marissa. Savannah had spent most of Monday and Tuesday here. Willow wondered if it was due to Collin. But he wasworking at the bookstore on Wednesday and Savannah still showed up.
“I want to have my own resale business someday,” she told Willow as they cleaned and priced miscellaneous kitchen items, setting them out on tables and counters for the sale. “If I thought I was closer to setting up my own shop, I’d probably want to keep a lot of this stuff. But I have to finish school first.” She held up a seventies Corning Ware casserole. “Besides, I know that you can find this stuff at estate sales all over the country—and who knows what will be hot by then?”
“You’re a wise young woman.”
“But I did have some good finds,” Savannah reminded her. “You’re sure that Mr. Emerson won’t mind?”
“He said he wanted everything gone,” Willow told her. “And for the work you’ve done, it sounds like a fair payment. But just to be safe, I plan to check with him this evening.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re saving a few things for him.” Savannah set an old Crock-Pot on the kitchen table. “Just in case he changes his mind. All that Scandinavian furniture you stashed in the conservatory is so cool. I’d love to keep that myself. Well, if I had a place to store it.”
“Where do these go?” Josie came into the kitchen with a box of the photographs from the stairway wall. “Just so you know, the conservatory is pretty full.”
“Put them in my SUV,” Willow told her. “I’m hoping George will want to hang some in his bungalow. He’s got a lot of bare walls.” Willow had already stashed some of the more personal items from George’s and Alex’s childhood bedrooms in the attic, including an old violin they’d found in George’s room and a guitar in Alex’s. Then, worried thatsome treasures could’ve still been missed, she’d asked Collin to carefully go through both rooms, salvaging any items that he felt that George might want saved. From what she could see, Collin had done an excellent job too. Several interesting boxes were stored in the attic with “save for George” written on them. All in all, they were in good shape for the estate sale, which would run Friday through the weekend. But first, Willow wanted to speak to George.
After Savannah and Josie left, and Willow was turning off the lights and locking the doors, she decided it was time to pay George a little visit. She felt slightly irked that he’d remained away for this long. And slightly guilty that she hadn’t attempted to call him before now. Anyway, it was time to talk. She would use the delivery of the photographs as her excuse to invade his space.
George looked somewhat pale as he opened his front door. Willow studied him for a moment, then, while carrying the box of photos inside, she inquired about his health.
“The truth is I’ve been a little under the weather,” he said quietly.
