two from the top. My mother
and aunt looked at one another and nodded almost imperceptibly.
They had this uncanny silent communication where they didn’t even
have to exchange a word to understand what the other was thinking.
“Would you put two empty boxes next to my chair, I’ll look at each
book and we will have a keep box and a go box,” my mother
directed.
“More mysteries,” Connie said, coming into
the room and setting the box in front of her mother.
Walking back into the study, I scrutinized
all the boxes packed in the room. “You don’t suppose it’s all books
do you?” I asked Connie.
“Well, it was his study,” Connie said. “I
suppose after he filled the shelves, he just kept putting them in
boxes. I wonder if he read them all or just collected them.”
Taking more boxes out into the living room we
found my mom and aunt hard at work looking over each title and
sorting them into the two new boxes.
“We are getting rid of most of them so far.
You can carry the full boxes out to my SUV. Shelly and I will take
them over to the second hand book store to see if they want them.
We should look up the older books online to see if they have any
value. I know our father used to like signed books so we’ll have to
check each one. He used to have a full set of Lincoln Finds a
General that he always treasured. It took him forever to find
volume four. We want to be careful not to let things like that just
be taken to the used book store. How does that sound to you,
Shelly?” My mother was in high gear and hardly took a breath.
“Perfect,” Shelly answered. “That way we
would be getting some boxes out of the house right away and we
would only be touching them once and deciding right away.”
We worked our way through the stacks and
found a desk that had been buried. When we pulled away the last of
the boxes hiding it, I was pleased to see it was a beautiful piece
of furniture that I could use later in my design. It was made of
heavy walnut with a center top drawer and three drawers stacked on
each side. The top was covered in tawny-colored leather embossed
with gold around the edges. There was an old library lamp sitting
on it but he must have moved his other personal possessions
elsewhere to make room for more boxes.
By the end of the afternoon we had gone
through most of the boxes in the study. We filled both our mother’s
cars nearly to overflowing, and put to the side only eight boxes of
books to figure out later. I made a list of the books we had to
value by some internet research. Probably most of them wouldn’t
have much worth but I hoped to find an unexpected treasure. They
were a mixture of thrillers, old westerns, historical novels,
biographies and everything in between.
“Well, Darling, I think I’ve had as much of
this as I can stand for today. I need to go home and have a shower.
I feel filthy,” my mother said, coming into the study and wiping
dust from her hands. She glanced around at the room. “I haven’t
seen this room up close like this since I was a child, and even
then my father didn’t want me in here. It was always his private
space.”
The dark oak floor boards in the room were
scratched and dented and full of dust and little bits of debris,
but you could still see the old grandeur of the room. I was happy
to see the nineteen seventies updating hadn’t reached this room,
probably because it had already been so filled with boxes.
“When my parents were first married, they
didn’t have much money but they furnished this house a little at a
time,” Mom continued. “As my father became more successful they
added all the woodwork and other touches. I was always surprised
they didn’t move to a grander house as they could afford it. My
father loved to show off his wealth when he was younger with snazzy
clothes and new cars. Since my mother died here maybe he just
couldn’t leave the place.”
I turned at the wistful note in my mother’s
voice. Aunt Shelly leaned on
and aunt looked at one another and nodded almost imperceptibly.
They had this uncanny silent communication where they didn’t even
have to exchange a word to understand what the other was thinking.
“Would you put two empty boxes next to my chair, I’ll look at each
book and we will have a keep box and a go box,” my mother
directed.
“More mysteries,” Connie said, coming into
the room and setting the box in front of her mother.
Walking back into the study, I scrutinized
all the boxes packed in the room. “You don’t suppose it’s all books
do you?” I asked Connie.
“Well, it was his study,” Connie said. “I
suppose after he filled the shelves, he just kept putting them in
boxes. I wonder if he read them all or just collected them.”
Taking more boxes out into the living room we
found my mom and aunt hard at work looking over each title and
sorting them into the two new boxes.
“We are getting rid of most of them so far.
You can carry the full boxes out to my SUV. Shelly and I will take
them over to the second hand book store to see if they want them.
We should look up the older books online to see if they have any
value. I know our father used to like signed books so we’ll have to
check each one. He used to have a full set of Lincoln Finds a
General that he always treasured. It took him forever to find
volume four. We want to be careful not to let things like that just
be taken to the used book store. How does that sound to you,
Shelly?” My mother was in high gear and hardly took a breath.
“Perfect,” Shelly answered. “That way we
would be getting some boxes out of the house right away and we
would only be touching them once and deciding right away.”
We worked our way through the stacks and
found a desk that had been buried. When we pulled away the last of
the boxes hiding it, I was pleased to see it was a beautiful piece
of furniture that I could use later in my design. It was made of
heavy walnut with a center top drawer and three drawers stacked on
each side. The top was covered in tawny-colored leather embossed
with gold around the edges. There was an old library lamp sitting
on it but he must have moved his other personal possessions
elsewhere to make room for more boxes.
By the end of the afternoon we had gone
through most of the boxes in the study. We filled both our mother’s
cars nearly to overflowing, and put to the side only eight boxes of
books to figure out later. I made a list of the books we had to
value by some internet research. Probably most of them wouldn’t
have much worth but I hoped to find an unexpected treasure. They
were a mixture of thrillers, old westerns, historical novels,
biographies and everything in between.
“Well, Darling, I think I’ve had as much of
this as I can stand for today. I need to go home and have a shower.
I feel filthy,” my mother said, coming into the study and wiping
dust from her hands. She glanced around at the room. “I haven’t
seen this room up close like this since I was a child, and even
then my father didn’t want me in here. It was always his private
space.”
The dark oak floor boards in the room were
scratched and dented and full of dust and little bits of debris,
but you could still see the old grandeur of the room. I was happy
to see the nineteen seventies updating hadn’t reached this room,
probably because it had already been so filled with boxes.
“When my parents were first married, they
didn’t have much money but they furnished this house a little at a
time,” Mom continued. “As my father became more successful they
added all the woodwork and other touches. I was always surprised
they didn’t move to a grander house as they could afford it. My
father loved to show off his wealth when he was younger with snazzy
clothes and new cars. Since my mother died here maybe he just
couldn’t leave the place.”
I turned at the wistful note in my mother’s
voice. Aunt Shelly leaned on
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