Page 66 of Something Old

“See for yourself.”

So, Madeline did. She opened the envelope and withdrew a stack of photos that had been printed out on computer paper. Assorted furniture pieces—most of which looked to be very old and of nice quality, though the eras and styles varied greatly. Some looked almost Victorian. Some had the simple, hardy construction and utilitarian lines that characterized the postwar 40s. Others were decidedly 60s mod. There was even a plump striped-and-floral print 80s living room set.

“Four generations of clutter in one house, mine, my mother’s, my grandma’s, and my grandmother’s mother’s,” Magda said, answering Madeline’s unvoiced question. “I’m tired of rattling around my big place alone, and the stairs are getting too much for me. I’m downsizing!” She said the last bit with an excited flourish.

“In fact,” she added, conspiratorially, “I’m moving into a one-room ground-level apartment, and my best gal from my school days is moving into the unit across the hall from me. Can you believe it? It’ll be like we’re roomies!”

Madeline smiled. “Sounds fun.”

“Yes, and I’m ready for some. It’s R&R time.”

Madeline took out a magnifying glass and studied some details in the photos more carefully.

“None of it’s like it was when it was new,” Magda said, understanding what had caught Madeline’s attention. “And some of it—okay, I’m not going to lie, most of it—has seen heavy use and has some damage. I had five children! There are dints and dents, scratches, the odd watermark, and spots where the finish is worn clean away. One chair,” she frowned at this confession, “has a dog-chewed leg—but the lot of it is all the more beautiful because of it. More special than when it was glossy and glitzy but hadn’t seen anything of life yet. Every piece is still serviceable and has a lot of life left in it. They just need the right home. The right fit.”

Madeline stared at Magda. The woman couldn’t possibly know the parallels she was drawing . . . She pulled herself back to the matter at hand. “That’s quite the sell job.”

Magda grinned, and her eyes sparkled. “The truth always is.”

Yes, Madeline thought. It was exactly like her and Grant. They’d seen heavy wear but were still standing. Their hearts were banged up and battered—but maybe they just needed the right home to keep on beating. And Lord knew she found the guy beautiful. She felt some last tendrils of her reserve slip away. “There’s a lot of life left in most things,” she agreed.

“Does that mean—”

“Yes,” Madeline agreed. “I mean, I want to look at them in person, but especially if you’re open to selling on consignment, I’m sure I’ll take them. Absolutely.”

After Magda left, both Aisha and Sam shot Madeline such exaggeratedly knowing looks that Madeline had to laugh. “Okay, okay. All the messages from the universe are received loud and clear. I’ll go see him right after work.”

“You know what you want to do,” Sam said sagely. “So just put on your big girl panties and do it.”

“Totally!” Aisha agreed, then literally cheered. Madeline rolled her eyes—but inside, she thought it was actually kind of sweet.

Chapter 34

When Madeline showed up at Grant’s tiny house with a bottle of wine a little after eight, he opened the door to her before she even knocked.

“You knew I was coming, didn’t you?”

He shrugged, his eyes as warm and blue as that beautiful sparkling lake they’d visited together that summer. “Let’s just say I hoped.”

Grover wagged his whole body in a stiff but happy hello—then side-eyed them as if suddenly feeling awkward and ambled off the porch to lie down beneath a nearby tree.

“See? Even Grover knows I want alone time!”

Grant’s eyebrows lifted. “As in . . . alone-alone time? In that case, what are we standing around for? Come on in.” He made a large, welcoming sweeping gesture.

Madeline laughed and obligingly entered but grumbled, “Alone-alone. You are starting to talk like me.”

“For a while now,” Grant agreed. “But it’s not so bad. After all, I fantasize about us growing seriously old together. We’ll sit on the porch, day in and day out, with our ten dogs and one cat—just one. We’ll drink spiked tea and laugh a lot—but we’ll never talk because we don’t just finish each other’s sentences, we already know what the other person’s going to say before they say it.”

“Your fantasies need a lot of help, Grant.”

“True,” he said, mock sorrowfully. “You really have your work cut out for you. We should get started now.”

“That comment shouldn’t be at all hot or cute.”

“Shouldn’t be . . . but was it?”

Madeline shook her head, smiling.