Sins and Needles (14 page)

“That's because it wasn't in the toy chest when it was downstairs,” said Susan. “It must've been Aunt Edyth's,” she continued. “Bought for her before her parents discovered she didn't like to play with dolls.”

“Why not?” asked Bernie, coming to take the doll from CeeCee. “I mean, I know she didn't like men, but this is a girl doll.”

“Because playing with dolls is how little girls practice to be mothers,” said Susan. “And Aunt Edyth wasn't going to have any children, because she didn't want to get married.”

“Poor thing,” said Katie, touching her belly tenderly.

“Look, a wedding dress for the doll!” said CeeCee, holding up a long white garment heavily ornamented with tucks and lace. The dress was split vertically in several places.

“I don't remember that, either,” said Susan. “May I see it?” CeeCee handed it over. “This is very old silk—see how it's split? That's called shattering.” She held the dress up to the dim light overhead. “But isn't it lovely? Oh, that lace! CeeCee, this dress is older than that doll, I think. And it's not a wedding dress. It looks more like a christening gown.”

“What's a christening gown?”

“It's like the beautiful dress you wore when you were baptized. You've seen that picture of yourself in it.”

“Oh, yes! Did they baptize dolls back in the olden days?”

“No, darling. But they sometimes dressed baby dolls in fancy clothes to make them even prettier. Is there another baby doll in there?”

CeeCee obediently rummaged in the box. She found a jack-in-the-box, a flat basketball, more books, a Raggedy Ann doll with a torn apron and hardly any hair, a child-size baseball bat, but not another baby doll.

“Maybe it got broken,” suggested Katie.

“Yes, that's probably what happened,” agreed Jan, speaking heartily. She was impatient now for lunch. “Dolls back then had china heads or even papier-mâché and were easily broken.”

“Can we go to lunch now?” asked Stewart plaintively.

“Yes, yes, let's go eat!” agreed Ronnie.

The vote was carried by everyone's feet, as they turned nearly in unison to march down the steep, narrow staircase that led out of the attic.

L
UNCH
was a picnic on the grounds. Jan, Susan, and Terri each had brought an ice chest and a basket or shopping bag. Cold roast chicken, potato salad, cherry tomatoes, lime Jello with diced celery suspended in it, half a ham, a plate of smoked salmon, wheat crackers, bread and rolls, lemonade, beer, wine, and a couple of pies were brought out of the ice chests; three kinds of plastic tableware, paper napkins, a chess set and a Frisbee came out of the basket and bags.

“The basement is all but empty,” said Stewart. “Nothing down there but an empty freezer chest and a furnace that'll need to be replaced.”

“Is there any room in that house you haven't gone poking into?” demanded Susan.

Stewart's helpless grimace told her the truth before he could deny it. So he got defensive. “Well, so what? I'm nosy. Everyone knows that. I didn't take anything, I just looked.”

“And valued a few things here and there,” said Jan, dryly.

He smiled at her. “Yes, I did. What's the use of looking if you don't know what you're looking at? It's another part of being nosy. I suppose you never looked around when you visited out here.”

Jan said, “Of course I looked, but only at what Aunt Edyth invited me to look at.”

“She never invited me to look at anything,” he said, “so I guess you can't blame me for showing some initiative and looking for myself.”

Susan sighed heavily, but Jan said, as she had on many similar occasions, “Now, Mother.” She continued, “Besides, I might have ducked into the library on occasion, just to find something to read while she took her after-lunch nap.” Jan had only done that once—but Jan liked Uncle Stewart.

Stewart smiled and winked at her.

“Are we done looking at things?” asked Jason.

“No, there's the garage and that big shed out back,” said Susan.

“Do we hafta?” whined CeeCee. “Everyone's picked what they want, haven't they? I'm supposed to go swimming with Natalie and Abbey this afternoon.”

“Yes, we ‘hafta,'” said Susan. “For one thing, we need to give your father a chance to make up his mind what he wants before we leave.”

“Do I have to say what I want today?” asked Stewart, surprised.

“Yes, you do,” said Susan. “The executrix wants to get started setting up an estate sale.”

“‘Two executors and a steward make three thieves,'” quoted Jason.

“What?” barked Stewart indignantly, and Susan laughed.

“It's just an old saying, Uncle Stew,” soothed Jason. “I learned it in law school. Dates to Chaucer's time, if not earlier. A steward—and your name is, in fact, a corruption of that title—functioned like a foreman on a ranch, except the steward ran a lord's estate. Or served a king over the whole kingdom. It was pretty much expected that these people would help themselves if they could.”

“Do you think Marcia Weiner is a crook?” asked Katie.

“No, of course not. I was just making a joke.”

“Not a very funny one,” said Hugs, frowning at him.

“I apologize. Now, can we go look at the garage?”

“You all go ahead,” said Susan. “Jan and I will pack up here.”

“I'll help,” said Terri.

“Thank you, by the way,” said Jason, “for a really excellent picnic.”

There was a guilty chorus of agreement from everyone who had forgotten his or her manners as they set off for the garage.

It was a lovely day, with temperatures in the midseventies, low humidity, and light breezes to make the flowers bob and the trees whisper. Jan, Terri, and Susan worked quickly, putting leftovers back in the ice chests or garbage and putting paper plates and plastic utensils into tall white plastic bags that Susan had brought.

“I'm glad one of us had the sense to bring these,” said Terri, stuffing a wad of used paper napkins into a bag.

“Mother,” Jan said, “why are you so down on Uncle Stewart? I mean, more even than normally?”

“Because he's up to something, I just know it,” she replied.

Terri bristled. “Susan, you always think Stewart's up to something.”

“That's because he generally is,” she replied without rancor.

“He is not!”

“Hush, both of you,” said Jan. “Uncle Stewart is just being himself, partly because he can't help it—and partly, Mother, because he knows it annoys you no end.”

Terri laughed. “You are undoubtedly right,” she said.

“Well…” grumbled Susan. “All right, he's getting my goat, and he knows it.”

“So just ignore him,” advised Jan. “There, are we done?” She looked around.

“Looks like it,” said Terri. “Where are they? In the garage still?”

“Yes,” said Jan. “Come on, let's see what they've found.”

They walked around the side of the house to the small wooden garage with its twin, pull-open doors. CeeCee was sitting behind the wheel of a huge Cadillac probably thirty-five years old, deep blue in color, with one flat tire. The roof and hood were coated with dust and bird doo. “Honk, honk!” she shouted, and then the rich sound of the horn really sounded. She squeaked in alarm and got out. “Sorry,” she said.

“That's all right, hon,” said Jason, grinning.

“Must be some life in the old battery yet,” said Stewart.

“Want to claim it, Stew?” asked Susan as she approached with Jan and Terri.

“Naw,” he said. “But take a look at what's right here beside it.” He edged in sideways and pulled an ancient tarp off something leaning against the wall.

“It's a motorcycle!” exclaimed Bernie. She turned to her Aunt Susan, grinning with excitement. “Is this the one Aunt Edyth rode on?”

“Why, yes, it is. She must have kept it out of nostalgia.”

Stewart supported the old machine by holding on to its handlebars, straddling the front wheel. Both tires were flat. It was painted a khaki color and had a large headlamp front and center.

Jason approached, whistling in appreciation. “My God, it's an
Indian
!” He came for a closer look, rubbing dirt off the gas tank. “I wonder if we could get it started.”

“Don't even try!” said his mother. “It would probably catch fire and burn you to a crisp!”

“That's my mom!” said Jason, laughing. “Still—” On the right handlebar was a cylindrical object with a stem on top of it. He reached out impulsively and pushed down on the stem. It resisted, then moved in jerky stages, emitting a kind of crunching sound. He kept working it, pulling it up and pushing it down, and as the movement smoothed out, the crunch became a kind of rough bark or growl.

“Stop it. You're breaking it!” scolded Jan.

“No, he's not,” said Susan. “That's the sound it's supposed to make. It's instead of a bell or horn.”

“Too weird!” said Katie.

“Enough, enough!” ordered Stewart, who was standing right over it. Jason obeyed, stepping back, but he still was grinning from ear to ear.

“Can I change my mind?” he asked.

“What, you
want
that old thing?” asked Susan.

“Sure, it's worth more than the Cadillac, probably more than the Hemingway book.”

“You're kidding, Jason,” said Katie, looking askance at the rusty, oily object.

“No, he's not,” said Hugs. “The Cadillac isn't nearly as old as the motorcycle, and old Indians are very valuable.”

“Aunt Edyth rode that thing until she was fifty years old,” Susan said. “She had a World War I pilot's leather helmet and goggles and didn't give”—she raised her hand and snapped her fingers—“what anyone thought of her. She could go pretty fast, too.” Susan was smiling in remembrance.

Jan said, “I think Stewart should have first refusal, since he hasn't claimed anything yet.”

Stewart looked the motorcycle over with interest—he was pretty good with old engines—then shook his head. “I'd be scared to ride it. You take it, Jason.”

But Jason was having second thoughts. “Tell you what, Ron, you give the poster back and take this instead, and I'll help you restore it.”

“You will do no such thing,” said Jan, in words that had thorns and icicles all over them.

Ronnie rolled his eyes and gave a big, helpless shrug.

“Oh, all right, never mind. I'll take the bike anyway.” And he looked fondly at the ancient motorcycle.

Susan sighed. “Well, on to the last place we have to look through.”

The shed at the back of the property probably had started life as a two-horse stable. Its double doors were the Dutch kind, with top and bottom halves that can open separately. Hugs saw that the padlock had been left unfastened. He pulled the top half of one door open.

“Whoa!” he exclaimed, stepping back. The opening was jammed nearly to the rafters with a huge old dismantled dining room table, faded and chipped lawn furniture, and sun-ruined hammocks.

He opened the door all the way and then the other one—which was also blocked with rolled-up rugs, two pedal cars, three tricycles, a paint-spattered stepladder, a golf bag holding both clubs and croquet hammers, and assorted smaller items such as tennis and badminton rackets.

“Why is that table out here instead of in the attic?” wondered Hugs.

“Can you imagine hauling it up that ladder?” asked Stewart.

“Oh. I see.”

“I learned to ride a bike on that old thing!” Susan said, pointing. “And see that? We invented a game combining croquet and golf! Oh, I had such fun with the Hamblin twins!” She put a hand over her mouth, trying not to cry.

Jan went to her mother and put an arm around her shoulder. “Such good memories,” she said, squeezing.

“Yes, yes,” her mother replied, nodding. “Good memories.”

“Well, how are we supposed to look at whatever is in here, when we can't get in?” asked Bernie, very sensibly.

CeeCee spoke up. “It's empty in the back,” she said.

Stewart turned quickly to ask, “What do you mean, empty? How do you know?”

She took a step away from his sharp expression and said, “I just went to look through the back window, and it looks like everything is just piled up on the side with the door in it.”

“Oh. I thought you meant you tried to crawl through this stuff.” He gestured at the heap blocking the door. “Might've pulled it all down on yourself.”

“Dad, I'm not an idiot!”

He smiled. “Glad to hear it. Come on, let's move some of this out so we can see what's back there.” He suited action to words and began quickly hauling table parts out onto the grass.

A few minutes later, looking at the table leg in his hand, then around at the quartet already on the grass, he asked, “What is this, a spare?”

“No,” said Susan. “The original table had five legs. One was in the center to support the leaves when they were put in.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Yeah, I think I remember that. Have we found all three leaves?”

“Right over here,” said Perry, putting the last one down beside the other two.

“Look, there's a Stickley label here on the underside,” said Jan, looking under the tabletop.

“So?” said Bernie.

“Stickley invented the Craftsman style, and his name on a piece raises its value tremendously.”

“How come you know all this stuff about antiques?” asked Jason.

“I'm a big fan of
Antiques Roadshow
. You should watch it sometime. It's not only fun, it's educational.”

CeeCee, meanwhile, had found an opening in the heap of items still in the doorway and gone inside the shed. “Hey!” she shouted. “There's a big old
boat
back here!”

“CeeCee, where are you?” demanded her mother.

“In here,” she said, more quietly. “With the boat.”

“Didn't you listen when your father warned you not to go in there?”

“But there was a path through, and I was careful not to bump anything. You want me to come back out?”

“No!” Terri, Stewart, Jan, Hugs, and Susan all spoke with one voice.

“What kind of boat is it?” called Hugs.

“I don't know. Like a great big motorboat, all made of wood. But there's no motor on the back. And it has a steering wheel. And a windshield.”

“Oh, my God, it's the
Edali
!” said Susan. “I thought she must have sold that old thing by now.”

“What's the
Edali
?” asked Katie, trying to peer through the pile of stuff.