Sarah's Legacy (6 page)

“No, no, I want you to model everything for me,” she laughed and covered her eyes when I started pulling things out of bags to show her what I'd bought. So I
put on a mini fashion show, parading and turning around like models do on TV.

“They had some great sales! I even have seventeen dollars left,” I said proudly when I was finished and she'd admired everything. I started to give it back but Mom shook her head.

“Keep that for spending in case you want to go somewhere with friends.”

I couldn't help but think that a few weeks ago it would have been out of the question to waste seventeen dollars. Our lives had changed beyond belief, all because of a strange old woman we'd never met.

That reminded me of the hope chest.

“Please, please can we look for the hope chest now?” I begged. “I'm
so
curious. It's like torture having to wait!”

“Oh, come on then,” Mom said as she hugged me. “I have to admit I'd kind of like to see what's in there too. But put something old on first. It's pretty dusty out there.”

I changed in a flash and ran back down the stairs to join Mom in the servants' quarters. It was like a tiny house, except there was no kitchen anywhere. I decided that was why there were two kitchens in the main house. One must have been for the hired help.

Mom was sure right about the dust. A thick layer carpeted the floor and covered every single thing in there. That included what seemed to be a thousand
boxes, old furniture, and an assortment of things like lamps and paintings standing and leaning everywhere. What a mess!

“There's more in the upstairs loft,” Mom said with a sigh. “I don't know how we'll ever go through all this stuff and get the place cleaned out.”

“Why bother?” I asked, thinking of all the work that would be involved. It would take forever! “It's not like we need the space.”

“Well, I had an idea,” Mom answered. “I thought I might be able to turn it into a business of some sort.”

“You mean like a store? What kind?”

“I haven't figured that out yet,” she admitted. “But it would be nice to be able to work right from home. Of course, I don't even know if I can get a licence to operate a business here. I'll have to look into zoning and things before I do anything else.”

“It would be so cool to have our own business.” Enthusiasm at the thought actually made me eager to help clean the place out.

“Well, don't get too excited yet. It may never come to anything. We'll have to wait and see. Now, let's find that hope chest.”

We took a quick walk through both upstairs and down, looking around in case it was in plain view. No such luck. If the chest was there at all, it was hidden behind or underneath something.

“It could even be in one of the large boxes,” Mom sighed. I was afraid she was going to say we'd have to leave it for now, but she didn't. Instead, she motioned me to come and help her start moving things out of the way.

“How could one person have so much stuff?” I moaned when we'd moved dozens of boxes, only to find more piled behind them. Each one had been carefully taped closed, though none of them bore labels.

“It's hard to believe, isn't it? And goodness knows what we'll find when we get around to opening them.”

We lugged several others out of place, stirring up more dust to add to the growing cloud around us. I had already sneezed a few times and my eyes were starting to burn. Then we saw it.

The chest was covered by an old tablecloth but there was no mistaking the shape. We peeled the cloth off carefully, trying not to stir up too much dust, to reveal a trunk made of dark brown wood with metal strips around the sides and top.

The lid was rounded, which made it look like a treasure chest from a pirate movie. There were leather handles on either end. We each took hold of one and hauled it out to the middle of the floor.

“Let's pull it to the back kitchen and clean it up first. Then we'll see if we can get it up to your room.”

It wasn't too hard to move it to the back kitchen, since we could just slide it along the floor. Once we'd
washed it down, though, it was clear there was no way we were going to be able to get it up the stairs. It was way too heavy for us to carry anywhere.

“I'll see if David can stop by tomorrow evening around the time Stan is coming over,” Mom said after we'd made a few unsuccessful attempts to pick it up. “I'm sure they can manage to get it to your room. In the meantime, go ahead and see what's in it.”

My excitement wasn't even dampened at the reminder that we were going to a movie with Stan on Saturday evening. I kneeled down on the floor in front of the chest.

Visions of all the wonderful things that could be inside filled my head as I pulled the lid open with trembling fingers.

It seemed that the pesky animals were as curious as I was. Arthur the Fifth and two of the other cats whose names I hadn't yet got straight came hurrying into the back kitchen as I started taking things out of the chest. Within a minute they were joined by two of the dogs. One, a terrier mix, is called Plunk because of the abrupt way he sits down, and the other one (I think) is named Dusty. Or maybe Rusty, I'm not sure.

I shooed them all away a few times and the dogs finally listened, flopping down a few feet away with their chins right on the floor and their eyes looking all sad and accusing.

The cats were another story. They kept trying to get into the trunk, mewing and making a nuisance of themselves. Instead of obeying my repeated command for
them to go away, they turned impudent faces to me and rubbed against my arms so that there was soon hair floating in the air all around them. It was almost as bad as the dust out in the servants' quarters.

“Do they
have
to shed so much?”

“I suppose they do,” Mom said, even though I hadn't really expected an answer to the question. “I can see that vacuuming up cat hair and cleaning out litter boxes is going to take up an awful lot of our time.”

“Couldn't we give a few of them away? They're such a nuisance!”

“I'm afraid not. We've agreed to take care of them and that's what we're going to do.”

“Nobody would know.”

“
We
would know,” Mom said quietly. I could tell that that settled it. Mom has this thing about keeping her word. Normally it's a good thing because I can always count on what she says. In this case, though, I wouldn't have minded if she broke her promise.

I gave up on trying to fight off the cats and turned back to the chest. So far, the contents were a disappointment. On top of everything else rested a lavender quilt wrapped in clear plastic, but it was the only half decent thing in there as far as I could see. Underneath it was a bunch of dishcloths and some pillowcases and doilies. I figured the good stuff was hidden in the bottom.

“I wonder why she didn't use these things,” I said without much real interest in the answer. You couldn't exactly expect normal behaviour from anyone who had enough animals to fill a small zoo.

“Well, that was the whole purpose of a hope chest,” Mom explained. “Years ago, young ladies made all these things by hand and put them away to be used in their homes once they were married. They never touched them until then.”

“That's dumb,” I commented. “You'd think your great-aunt would have eventually realized that she wasn't getting married and gone ahead and used them.”

“It's strange that Sarah never married,” Mom said in a faraway tone. That's the way she sounds when she's sort of talking to herself, so I didn't bother saying anything back.

“She was quite a beauty, you know.”

“Old Sarah?” The idea astonished me. There were a few pictures of her around the house. I couldn't quite imagine the wizened-up old woman whose likeness looked out sternly from gold-edged frames ever being attractive.

“Oh, yes. She was lovely. I guess you wouldn't remember seeing her photographs in your grandmother's album.”

A clear recollection of black and white photos came to me, pictures I'd looked at many times in my grandmother's
living room. As I lifted more doilies from the chest a face rose in my mind.

“She wasn't the girl beside the tree with the big hat on, was she?”

“That was her.” Mom sounded pleased that I'd remembered.

“But she…” I sneezed as cat hair floated around my nose. “That couldn't be her!”

“And why couldn't it?”

“She looked like a movie star in that picture!” “Yes, she did. I imagine there were all sorts of young men interested in her too.”

“Maybe she liked cats and dogs better, even then,” I said grouchily. I was almost at the bottom of the chest by then and it was becoming clear there was nothing of any value in it. I lifted the last few items out and added them to the pile beside me on the floor. A layer of paper lined the bottom and I took it out just in case but there was nothing underneath.

“Everything that matters is in the chest and I'm passing it on to you.”

Remembering Sarah's message, I felt cheated. What a weird thing to say about a quilt and a bunch of old pillowcases and stuff.

“I suppose that Aunt Sarah wanted you to have these things for the day that you're married,” Mom said, as if she'd read my mind. “These are all handsewn
and embroidered. She must have put a lot of work into them.”

I wasn't cheered by the thought that her message had anything to do with me getting married and using all this junk someday. Most of it was yellowed with age anyway. But at least the chest itself was nice. It would look good in my room.

I stood up, brushing cat hair off my jeans and trying unsuccessfully to hide my disappointment.

“I'll see if I can find out what kind of detergent might take out the age stains,” Mom said, as if that might perk me up. I tried to look happy at the idea, though I was secretly hoping it would all fall apart in the washer. I'd much rather use the trunk for my own stuff.

I was startled from those thoughts by a ringing sound. It was immediately followed by the sound of Stoolie saying, “Hello? Hello?”

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I had a phone installed today,” Mom said, as she hurried off to answer it.

I followed her down the hall and into the living room where she was lifting the receiver and saying hello. The big question in my mind was who could be calling us. After all, if she'd just had the phone put in, no one would have our number yet.

“Sarah and I were just looking through a hope chest that my aunt left to her,” Mom said brightly. “No, no, it's not a bad time. We've just finished. I can chat for a bit.”

I decided she'd probably called Grammie and Grampie in Ontario and given them the number. Very likely they'd phoned back when I'd be there so they could speak to me. I plunked down on the sofa waiting my turn. It would be great to talk to my grandparents.

“Excuse me for a second,” Mom said. She put her hand over the mouthpiece then and turned to me. “Is there something you wanted, dear?”

“Isn't that Grammie?”

“No.” She didn't look directly at me as she answered. “It's just someone for me.”

Well, I knew when I wasn't wanted! I shrugged to show her I couldn't care less about her silly old phone call as I left the room. But truthfully, I
was
curious, so I listened carefully as I started slowly down the hall.

“Sorry about that, Stan,” I heard her say.

Stan! The realization hit me that Mom must have phoned him first and given him our number. I quickly told myself that she'd probably only done it in case there was a change in plans for the movie tomorrow, but something in me wasn't buying that idea.

I stomped angrily up the stairs to my room.

When Mom came up to my room a bit later and asked if I wanted some ice cream I just shook my head and refused to look at her.

“How about a game of cards, then?” she suggested cheerfully, as if she couldn't see perfectly well that I wasn't too pleased with her at the moment.

“Why don't you see if
Stan
would like some ice cream or a game of cards?” I snapped. I thought I might as well make it good and clear that I wasn't happy about her talking to him.

“I think it's a bit late to invite anyone over this evening,” she answered smoothly, like she didn't know I was being sarcastic.

That made me madder than ever.

“Yeah, well, I guess anyone who wanted a jerk like
him around would have to be pretty desperate for a boyfriend anyway,” I muttered.

Instead of answering, she got a hurt look on her face and left, closing my door quietly behind her. I didn't feel one bit sorry for her. In fact, I was quite pleased with myself. After all, she had it coming for not getting rid of Stan right from the start. He didn't belong in our lives and the sooner she realized it and put an end to the whole thing, the better.

Right in the middle of imagining how bad she was probably feeling, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of purring. One of the cats must have followed Mom into my room. Looking around, I found Arthur the Fifth sitting at the foot of my bed. I scooped him up, marched to the door, flung it open, and plopped him down in the hallway.

That was when I heard Mom singing. The sound of her voice rose softly from downstairs.

I couldn't believe it! She was supposed to be upset and there she was singing as if everything was just fine. I strained to listen for a moment but couldn't quite make out what the song was. It sounded happy, though. I slammed my door good and loud, crossed the room, and flung myself across the bed.

A few seconds later I felt a small thud on the bed beside me.

“I thought I just put you out,” I mumbled, seeing
Arthur the Fifth's furry face staring at me curiously. The dumb thing must have sneaked back in when I was concentrating on Mom's song.