I had taken a hot bath and was slipping into a pair of sweats when I heard rattled knocking on an outside door. “Just a minute,” I called down the stairs, then scurried to the end of the hallway in slippered feet to peer out the floor-to-ceiling window at the lawn below. I recognized Karol’s car parked in the makeshift driveway. I slid my arms into a long-sleeved tee, then went downstairs and opened the front door.
“Looks like you’ve been busy today,” she said as a greeting from beyond the screened door. “My gosh, even the front porch rockers are gone.”
I pushed the door open for her and said, “Come in. Please.”
I pulled a scrunchie around my wet shoulder-length hair, tying it off neatly at the nape of my neck. “I hired some men and women.”
When Karol looked at me quizzically, I added, “From a day labor place.”
Karol stepped past me as she nodded. I closed the door, the sound echoing in the emptiness of the living room. “This room is huge,” she whispered, walking to its center.
I followed her. “You don’t realize how big a room is until it’s empty.”
“Did you get the whole house done? In one day?”
I shook my head. “No. There’s still one more room in the back. It was a bedroom, but my aunt used it for storage. You name it and it’s in there, right down to calendars dating back to the fifties, which would probably draw a pretty penny on eBay. I want to go through a few things before I have the men load it all into a U-Haul, so I told them we’d wait.” I pointed up. “And my room is still completely furnished. I’ll work around it as long as I can, then I suppose I’ll have to go to Mother’s to live for a while.”
Karol nodded. “So, what’s next?”
I jutted my thumb toward the back of the house. “Do you want some coffee? I was just about to make some.”
“Sure.”
We made our way down the wide hallway. Our footsteps in the cavernous room made the oddest of acoustic combinations; her boots clomped against the floorboards while my Wal-Mart satin slippers gave a whispered swish.
I answered her question as we walked along. “Tomorrow we’ll pack up the barn. Or, I should say, the men will. I saw a rat in there today, so I won’t be back anytime soon.”
“The barn? What’s in there? Old tractors and stuff ?”
I shook my head as we turned into the kitchen. I flipped on the light; it exposed a room void of everything except a coffeepot, a few recently washed dishes turned upside down in the drain, and the new fire extinguisher I kept near the stove. “Mostly furniture. A few bushel baskets of old fruit jars and other glass items.” I pulled the carafe from the coffee–maker and filled it with water. “Some moonshine jars. Gorgeous stained glass windows Mother said were a part of the original house. Oh, and a desk I suspect is filled with old farm records. If I’m right, they’d make a nice touch for the museum displays as well.”
“Sounds good. Is that decaf or regular?”
“Decaf. Is that okay?”
Karol nodded. “Since middle age has snuck up on me, I can’t stand caffeine after a certain hour.”
“You and me both.”
The coffee began to brew, and I leaned against the counter. “I’d offer you a chair, but there isn’t one, obviously. When the coffee is ready, we can go upstairs to my room. I took up a couple of the front porch rockers and an occasional table and made a little sitting area.”
“Sure.” She smiled. “Please tell me you have a fire going up there too.”
“I do.” I collected two coffee cups from the drain and placed them on the counter in front of the coffeemaker, then went to the refrigerator for milk. “Back to subject: while the men are getting the barn loaded up and out of here, I’ll start the process of renovating. I’ll take some photographs of the rooms, make some drawings. When I’m in Raymore tomorrow, I’ll stop by a contractor’s office—Mother told me about his company, says he’s good and fairly reasonable—and set up an appointment for him to come out and determine what damage we might be looking at.”
“Speaking of which, I have something for you.” Karol reached under the hem of her leather jacket and into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a covered checkbook. “It’s a local account I set up for you. I put fifty thousand in it for starters. When you get to about twenty-five hundred, let me know and I’ll fill it up again. This will give you the spending money you need for repairs, whatnot. Just be sure to keep accurate records and the receipts. I’ll come by every few days and see what you’ve got.”
“Good,” I said with a wink. “Because I paid the day laborers out of my own pocket.” I took the checkbook and set it on the windowsill above the sink as the coffeemaker coughed and sputtered. “Coffee’s ready,” I said.
Twenty-four hours later the house was completely empty, the barn’s insides had been purged and stored, the desk’s contents had been placed in a box and taken up to my room for plundering later, and I’d met with a man face-to-face who—even watered down by age—had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.