Distribution Ch. 02

"I was seconding the motion when I raised my hand to vote in the affirmative," Ms. Kindle said. "Opposed?"

I hadn't realized that she was voting for my proposal, and by the shocked look on Mr. McMahan's face, he hadn't either. He and Ms. Dickens raised their hands in opposition to the motion.

"The motion caries, eighty-seven to six. Who would like to volunteer to work with Mr. Driver on the cataloging and marketing of the contents of the automobile related items?" Ms. Kindle asked.

"I'll work with Mr. Driver," Ms. Meriwether was quick to say.

Ms. Dickens was walking away, toward the gazebo, having apparently lost interest in the proceedings.

"Charlie's going to help with the cataloging, but we'll welcome your help also," I said to Ms. Meriwether, and watched her smile at me.

"Who would like to volunteer to help Mr. Driver with the cataloging and marketing of the contents of the house?" Ms. Kindle asked, speaking in a loud voice. Ms. Dickens did not turn, or give any indication that she'd heard the call for a volunteer.

Again, Ms Meriwether said that she would be happy to work with me, but Ms. Kindle said that others should become involved in the interest of time. I watched Mr. McMahan make a move to raise his hand, but Ms. Kindle was already saying that she would assist me.

Things were looking up. Ms. Kindle had thanked me for the slice of pizza and beer the night before, and now she was volunteering to help catalog and market the contents of the house.

"Great, let's get started," I said. "Ms. Meriwether, I'll get my laptop, and show you how to enter each item as Charlie describes what it is."

She nodded, smiling at me. I headed for the house. Ms. Kindle fell in step with me, with Mr. McMahan at her side.

"What can I do to get started inside?" she asked.

"Look up antique dealers in the telephone book. Call them, and ask if they will be interested in attending a silent auction. Tell them that there are some fine old items. Tonight, we'll catalog everything, and tomorrow, you can send out a mailing to the dealers that express interest. We'll need to get approval for the postage, but we can do that at the meeting tomorrow morning."

"I would say that the vote for your proposal assumed that there would be expenses associated with the plan," Ms. Kindle said.

"What about the dumpster?"

"Absolutely, the vote included ordering the dumpster."

"What can I do, Mr. Driver?" Mr. McMahan asked.

"Tomorrow, dress for some manual labor. You can help me carry the mattresses and clothes to the dumpster."

I couldn't tell if he was satisfied with the assignment, but he didn't lodge a complaint.

"How about picking up some vacuum cleaner bags, Mr. McMahan?"

"You said you need some cleaning supplies, too," he said, obviously agreeable to the task.

"Pick up a bucket and some sponges," I said, handing him a twenty dollar bill.

Ms. Kindle said that she would get the vacuum cleaner for him to determine what kind of bags to buy. She headed upstairs, but stopped and stared Mr. McMahan down when he started to follow her.

I was looking at the yellow pages when she came back, carrying the vacuum.

"I'll order the dumpster. You need to go back to the barn. Which company should I call?" she asked.

I pointed to one of the companies that advertised short-term dumpster rental, and circled the size container that would accommodate the items we needed to dispose of. As I left the house, Ms. Kindle was dialing the number, and Mr. McMahan was copying the model of the vacuum.

As I was setting up the format I wanted her to use to catalog the automobile parts, Ms. Meriwether whispered in my ear. "Please call me Nadine. I'll call you Brian, okay?"

"Okay, Nadine. Hey, Charlie, Ms. Meriwether wants us to call her Nadine," I said, and watched her turn a bright shade of red in embarrassment.

We worked until I got hungry, recording the description of each item Charlie and I found on the wall. The description was short for many of the items because we didn't know what automobile they were for. 'MIN' became shorthand for more information needed. I didn't know what time it was, but I suspected everyone else was hungry, too.

I found Mr. McMahan operating the vacuum cleaner. He was only too happy to take a break and go after sandwiches for the crew. I watched him scamper up the stairs before I went back to the barn. It wasn't long before he took our orders and left.

We ate our sandwiches in the gazebo. Everyone talked about the progress they were making. Charlie said that we'd cataloged half the parts that were hanging on the walls, but we hadn't been able to climb the stairs to the attic because they were blocked with wooden boxes that needed to be moved out of the way.

Mr. McMahan said that he had finished vacuuming the carpets on the first floor, and was ready to start with upstairs carpets.

Ms. Kindle spoke to me. "The dumpster will be delivered first thing in the morning. I've called all the antique dealers that advertise in the phone book. All but one is interested in bidding on our furnishings. I've made labels for the mailing list. If there's nothing else you want me to do, I'll spend the afternoon looking for the safety deposit key." I was dumbfounded. She was asking if I had anything else for her to do. "You made labels for the mailing list?"

"Uncle Mackey's computer is ancient, but it works," she said.

"Good luck with finding the safety deposit box key," I said, smiling, and watching her shyly return it.

"Brian, you have the sweetest children. The little boy looks exactly like you. How old are they?" Nadine Meriwether asked.

"Amanda will be ten in March. Phillip will be seven."

"Your wife is lovely, too," she said, but I didn't respond.

"Do you have children, Nadine?"

"No, we don't," she said, before becoming quiet.

I was in a good mood as we returned to work. With the exception of Ms. Dickens, I had the whole crew looking to me for direction. In only two days, I'd gotten them to believe in my methods. I saw no need to tell them that I'd disposed of old furniture from two houses, or that I was in the antique business.

The antique automobiles and Uncle Mackey's collection of parts were new to me, but everything else was routine.

We finished cataloging all the parts that were hanging from the walls when Nadine said she needed to leave. Charlie and I wished her a good night.

"You have a good night, too," she said, winking at me.

Charlie and I moved the boxes away from the stairs. I couldn't resist the urge to climb to the loft. I whistled, and yelled down to him that there were tables filled with every kind of starter, water pump, distributor, and carburetor known to man. "There's some other stuff that I can't identify," I said, looking down to see him pry one of the boxes open.

It was Charlie's turn to whistle. By the time I got downstairs, he had helmets, bayonets, belts, and medals out of the box.

"What do you have?" I asked.

"I believe it's all from World War One, but I'm not sure," he said, shaking his head in amazement.

I looked around at the structure. It wasn't secure at all. "How long have these boxes been here?" I asked.

Charlie shook his head. "Not long. They weren't here last time I was in the barn with Mackey. That was about a year ago."

"We've got to move these boxes into the house as soon as possible," I said, and he agreed with me. We paid special attention to how the doors closed when we locked the barn. Ms. Dickens would never forgive us if anything happened to those war memorabilia.

"No luck," Ms. Kindle said the moment she saw me enter the back door. "But...," she said, pointing to a roll of bills on the table. The roll was about an inch in diameter, and there was a rubber band around it.

I looked around the room. "He's gone," she said, assuring me that Mr. McMahan was not within earshot.

"Where did you find it?"

"It was inside a beer stein on Uncle Mackey's desk."

The roll of money reminded me of the nineteen envelopes that Amanda had discovered in the roll top desk at Mr. Bennett's house.

"Do you feel like Chinese?" she asked, changing the subject. "I found this ad in the telephone book."

I looked at the ad, saw that she'd placed a checkmark beside three of the dishes on the menu, and reached for my cell phone. While I was out picking up the Chinese food, I bought a bottle of Chardonnay. When I got back, the roll of money was still sitting on the table. We didn't talk more about it, and I doubted if she had bothered to count it.

While we were eating, we talked about how we would go about cataloging the furniture. She would log the items into my laptop while I went from room to room calling out descriptions. She offered me a second glass of wine, but when I rejected it, she corked the bottle. When we had our fill, she put the leftovers in the refrigerator, and took our plates and wine glasses to the sink.

We started with the throw rugs. I wasn't sure if the correct term was oriental rugs so I simply called them scatter rugs. I had to estimate the dimensions.

"Your family may want this game table. It was a gift from Uncle Mackey's mother," I said, but didn't get any response that showed she was interested in keeping the table in her family.

We breezed through the other pieces, and when I got to the dining room, I was able to describe the pieces in detail. The furniture in the small bedroom was non-descript, but we listed each piece. I'd learned long ago, that some antique dealers lusted for pieces they considered unique while other dealers considered it junk.

I was uneasy climbing the stairs because I had not been permitted up there before. There were two rooms filled with bedroom furniture. I made up exotic descriptions as Ms. Kindle punched them into my laptop.

The third bedroom had been Mackey's room. In addition to the computer, printer, etc., there were two file cabinets, a desk, and bookshelves. The top of the desk was so littered with magazines and papers that I wondered how Ms. Kindle had found the beer stein. The bookshelves were similarly overflowing with books and magazines.

"Let's not list anything in this room," I suggested, and watched Ms. Kindle shrug. The magazines, I thought, might be useful in researching the auto parts and the world war one collectibles we'd found in the barn. The contents of the file cabinets could also prove useful.

I would have liked to investigate the files, but Ms. Kindle was anxious to print the mailing to the antique dealers. She transferred the file from my laptop to Mackey's desktop, and I went downstairs to catch up on my correspondence.

I wrote e-mail messages to my parents, my sister, and to Amanda, knowing that she would share it with Phillip. The messages I wrote that night were a lot more light-hearted than they would have been the night before. I felt like I had things under control, a big improvement from twenty-four hours ago.

Checking the time, I didn't think it was too late to talk to Marian.

"When are you coming home?" she asked, sounding tired, like I'd disturbed her.

"I'm making progress, but it may be longer that I first thought."

"How much longer?" she persisted.

Didn't she know she was asking a question that was impossible to answer? I glanced around the room, spotted the roll of money still lying on the table, and then at my sleeping blanket. When had Ms. Kindle spread it out and placed the photographs of my family within reach of the blanket?

"I can't say for sure, Marian. It's more complicated that I thought it would be."

"You sound like you're having a good time."

"I suppose I am. This is the type of thing I'm good at. The people are complex, but they're coming around."

"Don't have too much fun," she warned me before we said goodnight.

I turned off the computer, and was removing my clothes when I heard the bathwater running upstairs. Was Ms. Kindle coming around?