that morning.
“If you come across anything that needs unlocking, this could be the key,” she said brightly, holding it up.
Isak looked at it. “Did Mum have a safe deposit box?”
Beryl shook her head. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Well, if worse comes to worst, her attorney or accountant will know, right? Do we know who they are?”
“Hmm,” Beryl mused with a funny puzzled expression.
“Gee, you’re a big help,” Isak teased. “You were supposed to find out some of these things before Mum forgot.”
“You’re right, I should’ve; but hopefully we’ll find some clues when we go through her stuff.”
They got right to work, quickly establishing a system: Each one had a box and a bag—saved items went into a box, and garbage went into a bag. Slowly, slowly, the piles diminished.
Every once in a while, one of them would come across a funny anecdote or an interesting tidbit and would share it. “Holy cow!” Rumer exclaimed in an astonished voice, holding up a faded document. “Guess how much Mum and Dad paid for this house in 1964?” Beryl and Isak looked up quizzically from behind their piles and Rumer read the figure out loud: “$17,500!”
“That’s crazy!” Isak said. “You couldn’t buy an acre for that now.”
“Well, when we put it on the market, I don’t think we should ask less than $300,000,” Beryl said.
“We’ll have to have it assessed first,” Isak said with a sigh.
“By the way, Ber,” Rumer said, looking up, “I’ve been wondering how we’ve been paying for the nursing home all this time. Usually people have to sell everything they own.”
“Mum had a sizeable nest egg stashed away. I don’t know how she did it, but it’s almost gone now. There’ve also been regular deposits into her checking account all along, including a large sum at the end of last year, but I always assumed they were automatic deposits from a retirement account. I was beginning to worry that she’d run out and then we’d have to sell the house at a loss.”
“It’s odd that there was that one big deposit,” Isak mused. “Usually when monies are coming from a retirement account, it’s set up so it’s always the same amount.”
Beryl shook her head. “I don’t really know. I guess I should have paid more attention to it.”
They went back to their piles and once she’d gotten through a few layers of paper, Beryl uncovered her mom’s old turntable and receiver. She traced the wires back to actual speakers and then discovered an old Rinso box full of 45’s and 78’s, and an L.L. Bean box full of albums. She looked up to see if her sisters had noticed her discovery, but they were so absorbed in their own piles they hadn’t even looked up. Quietly, she flipped through the albums, slid one out, and gingerly placed it on the turntable; when it started to spin, she set the needle down and it crackled to life. At the familiar sound, Rumer and Isak both looked up, and then big band sounds filled the room along with Frank Sinatra’s smooth, unmistakable voice crooning “Come Dance with Me.” Rumer and Isak smiled, remembering how their mom used to swing them around the kitchen when they were little, singing along to Ol’ Blue Eyes; suddenly Beryl started dancing around the room like their mom used to do, singing at the same time. Laughing, Rumer and Isak joined in—surprised that they remembered every word. When the album ended, Isak looked for a clock. “Is it cocktail hour yet?”
“Nope, it’s only four forty-five,” Beryl said, changing albums and hoping they could get a little more done.
As Patsy Cline began to sing “You Belong to Me,” Rumer leaned back in her mom’s chair and groaned. “This drawer is locked. Do you think that key opens it?” The heavy oak desk had multiple drawers on both sides, but the bottom drawers were bigger than the rest. She leaned over to the other side. “This one is too.”
“I never knew that desk locked,” Beryl
“If you come across anything that needs unlocking, this could be the key,” she said brightly, holding it up.
Isak looked at it. “Did Mum have a safe deposit box?”
Beryl shook her head. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Well, if worse comes to worst, her attorney or accountant will know, right? Do we know who they are?”
“Hmm,” Beryl mused with a funny puzzled expression.
“Gee, you’re a big help,” Isak teased. “You were supposed to find out some of these things before Mum forgot.”
“You’re right, I should’ve; but hopefully we’ll find some clues when we go through her stuff.”
They got right to work, quickly establishing a system: Each one had a box and a bag—saved items went into a box, and garbage went into a bag. Slowly, slowly, the piles diminished.
Every once in a while, one of them would come across a funny anecdote or an interesting tidbit and would share it. “Holy cow!” Rumer exclaimed in an astonished voice, holding up a faded document. “Guess how much Mum and Dad paid for this house in 1964?” Beryl and Isak looked up quizzically from behind their piles and Rumer read the figure out loud: “$17,500!”
“That’s crazy!” Isak said. “You couldn’t buy an acre for that now.”
“Well, when we put it on the market, I don’t think we should ask less than $300,000,” Beryl said.
“We’ll have to have it assessed first,” Isak said with a sigh.
“By the way, Ber,” Rumer said, looking up, “I’ve been wondering how we’ve been paying for the nursing home all this time. Usually people have to sell everything they own.”
“Mum had a sizeable nest egg stashed away. I don’t know how she did it, but it’s almost gone now. There’ve also been regular deposits into her checking account all along, including a large sum at the end of last year, but I always assumed they were automatic deposits from a retirement account. I was beginning to worry that she’d run out and then we’d have to sell the house at a loss.”
“It’s odd that there was that one big deposit,” Isak mused. “Usually when monies are coming from a retirement account, it’s set up so it’s always the same amount.”
Beryl shook her head. “I don’t really know. I guess I should have paid more attention to it.”
They went back to their piles and once she’d gotten through a few layers of paper, Beryl uncovered her mom’s old turntable and receiver. She traced the wires back to actual speakers and then discovered an old Rinso box full of 45’s and 78’s, and an L.L. Bean box full of albums. She looked up to see if her sisters had noticed her discovery, but they were so absorbed in their own piles they hadn’t even looked up. Quietly, she flipped through the albums, slid one out, and gingerly placed it on the turntable; when it started to spin, she set the needle down and it crackled to life. At the familiar sound, Rumer and Isak both looked up, and then big band sounds filled the room along with Frank Sinatra’s smooth, unmistakable voice crooning “Come Dance with Me.” Rumer and Isak smiled, remembering how their mom used to swing them around the kitchen when they were little, singing along to Ol’ Blue Eyes; suddenly Beryl started dancing around the room like their mom used to do, singing at the same time. Laughing, Rumer and Isak joined in—surprised that they remembered every word. When the album ended, Isak looked for a clock. “Is it cocktail hour yet?”
“Nope, it’s only four forty-five,” Beryl said, changing albums and hoping they could get a little more done.
As Patsy Cline began to sing “You Belong to Me,” Rumer leaned back in her mom’s chair and groaned. “This drawer is locked. Do you think that key opens it?” The heavy oak desk had multiple drawers on both sides, but the bottom drawers were bigger than the rest. She leaned over to the other side. “This one is too.”
“I never knew that desk locked,” Beryl
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