This one was an ancient bare globe. A fine oily dust covered the floor, the walls, and everything, including a stack of cardboard boxes.
Meri Ann stepped inside. “Amazing.”
“Dick Parcell built that unit. He worked for the finest families in Boise. My Bruce, rest his soul, always wanted the best.”
“Hmmm,” she mused, staring at the boxes.
“It’s just as well you know about my secret room. Some of my valuables are here, things you’ll inherit when I die. Mind you, only a box or two are mine. You’re paying for the lion’s share of the room. That’s only fair.”
“What? Yes. You are fair,” Meri Ann mumbled.
Pauline took a dishtowel off her shoulder and began wiping the boxes.
“Aunt Pauline, I wish you wouldn’t do that now.”
“It’s been a while since I took a rag to it.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go through Mother’s things on my own.”
Pauline straightened up. She folded the cloth with precision. “Oh, I understand. And I’ve plenty to do.” Pauline’s mouth drew into its familiar pucker. She strode to the center stack of boxes and scooted a two and a half foot square box out from the wall. She started to open it. “Joanna’s things from her dresser are in this one.”
How did Pauline know that? Had she gone through all the boxes? She glared at her aunt. “So I guess you know where everything is?”
“Well, I never.” Pauline backed all the way up the stairs, a pale mean ghost of a woman.
Meri Ann’s hands shook as she dug into the box Pauline had indicated. Sure enough it held things from the top of her mother’s dresser, dried-up jars of face creams, bottles of makeup, and two hairbrushes with adequate hair for the DNA tests. Meri Ann was too upset to stay in the basement one minute longer. She picked up the box and carted it upstairs.
Pauline stood ramrod-stiff on the outside stoop, arms folded against her chest. “You didn’t close the door, did you?”
She didn’t answer. Her muscles were taught, her mouth locked shut. The box filled her arms. She strained to carry it as she made her way around the side of the house.
Pauline followed her. “I wasn’t snooping. I was looking for aerosol cans. They’re highly explosive, you know? What if the cellar blew up?”
She punched the front gate open with her hip.
“You can’t think I took anything. I’m no thief.”
“You really don’t get it, do you?” Meri Ann set the box down on the sidewalk beside her car.
“Don’t talk to me that way. You’re the one who doesn’t understand. One day you’ll see.”
Meri Ann threw the box into the back seat. “I’m sorry already. Sorry for the lack of a loving aunt, for a father who doesn’t know what day it is. And damned sorry for my mother.”
# # #
Two blocks down Sylvan Street Meri Ann swung the Mazda to the side of the road. She switched off the engine and caught her breath.
All she had wanted to do was to sort through her mom’s things, to touch old treasures as she searched for a hairbrush. Instead she’d let Pauline get the best of her.
She glanced in the rearview at the cardboard box. It drew her like polar north. She turned around and knelt on the front seat facing backwards. She parted the box flaps.
The hairbrushes rested on top. She pulled out a strand of deep auburn hair, hair like her own, hair with a double helix of DNA. Something so personal that it carried her mother’s physical blueprint and a blueprint of all the women she had descended from. Now the hair was evidence. Sadly, she tucked the brushes inside a paper bag she had brought with her and placed it into the backpack, ready for forensics. Then she turned back to the box.
Beneath the cosmetics, she found her mom’s black cashmere sweater, a treasure she hadn’t expected to find. She buried her face in it, gathering her mother’s scent mixed with traces of Ralph Lauren’s perfume, Lauren. She draped the sweater over the seat, sifting through a cache of paperback
Meri Ann stepped inside. “Amazing.”
“Dick Parcell built that unit. He worked for the finest families in Boise. My Bruce, rest his soul, always wanted the best.”
“Hmmm,” she mused, staring at the boxes.
“It’s just as well you know about my secret room. Some of my valuables are here, things you’ll inherit when I die. Mind you, only a box or two are mine. You’re paying for the lion’s share of the room. That’s only fair.”
“What? Yes. You are fair,” Meri Ann mumbled.
Pauline took a dishtowel off her shoulder and began wiping the boxes.
“Aunt Pauline, I wish you wouldn’t do that now.”
“It’s been a while since I took a rag to it.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go through Mother’s things on my own.”
Pauline straightened up. She folded the cloth with precision. “Oh, I understand. And I’ve plenty to do.” Pauline’s mouth drew into its familiar pucker. She strode to the center stack of boxes and scooted a two and a half foot square box out from the wall. She started to open it. “Joanna’s things from her dresser are in this one.”
How did Pauline know that? Had she gone through all the boxes? She glared at her aunt. “So I guess you know where everything is?”
“Well, I never.” Pauline backed all the way up the stairs, a pale mean ghost of a woman.
Meri Ann’s hands shook as she dug into the box Pauline had indicated. Sure enough it held things from the top of her mother’s dresser, dried-up jars of face creams, bottles of makeup, and two hairbrushes with adequate hair for the DNA tests. Meri Ann was too upset to stay in the basement one minute longer. She picked up the box and carted it upstairs.
Pauline stood ramrod-stiff on the outside stoop, arms folded against her chest. “You didn’t close the door, did you?”
She didn’t answer. Her muscles were taught, her mouth locked shut. The box filled her arms. She strained to carry it as she made her way around the side of the house.
Pauline followed her. “I wasn’t snooping. I was looking for aerosol cans. They’re highly explosive, you know? What if the cellar blew up?”
She punched the front gate open with her hip.
“You can’t think I took anything. I’m no thief.”
“You really don’t get it, do you?” Meri Ann set the box down on the sidewalk beside her car.
“Don’t talk to me that way. You’re the one who doesn’t understand. One day you’ll see.”
Meri Ann threw the box into the back seat. “I’m sorry already. Sorry for the lack of a loving aunt, for a father who doesn’t know what day it is. And damned sorry for my mother.”
# # #
Two blocks down Sylvan Street Meri Ann swung the Mazda to the side of the road. She switched off the engine and caught her breath.
All she had wanted to do was to sort through her mom’s things, to touch old treasures as she searched for a hairbrush. Instead she’d let Pauline get the best of her.
She glanced in the rearview at the cardboard box. It drew her like polar north. She turned around and knelt on the front seat facing backwards. She parted the box flaps.
The hairbrushes rested on top. She pulled out a strand of deep auburn hair, hair like her own, hair with a double helix of DNA. Something so personal that it carried her mother’s physical blueprint and a blueprint of all the women she had descended from. Now the hair was evidence. Sadly, she tucked the brushes inside a paper bag she had brought with her and placed it into the backpack, ready for forensics. Then she turned back to the box.
Beneath the cosmetics, she found her mom’s black cashmere sweater, a treasure she hadn’t expected to find. She buried her face in it, gathering her mother’s scent mixed with traces of Ralph Lauren’s perfume, Lauren. She draped the sweater over the seat, sifting through a cache of paperback
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