“Ah, well, as long as she serves a purpose.” Joe got out the inventory sheet, and they walked through the room, with Kathleen checking off each item as she identified it. She laughed at one of his entries. “Desk with mirror?” She raised her eyebrows. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
“That’s not a desk with a mirror?”
“No.”
“Antique furniture isn’t my thing,” he admitted. “What’s it really called?”
“A vanity dresser with mirror,” she said, pulling over a desk chair and sitting in front of it to demonstrate. “Say I’m a lady going out for the evening. I would sit here to do my hair, or have someone else do it for me.” She twisted the ponytail into a bun, turned her head slightly to assess it, then let it go. “Also popular? Powdering one’s nose, or adjusting a hat to get it angled just right before securing it with a hat pin.” She looked up at him and winked. “Or, some ladies just liked to stare into the mirror and admire themselves.” She leaned into the mirror. “Look at me! I’m so pretty.” Her eyes were solemn, but her mouth twitched into a grin.
He couldn’t help but smile at her reflection. “More than pretty. You’re beautiful.”
Kathleen’s cheeks flushed pink. She stood and brushed off the front of her apron as if to deflect his words. “Trust me, I wasn’t fishing for compliments.” She gave him a wary sideways glance.
“I didn’t think you were.”
Kathleen got up, and they carried on, checking off two old trunks, each of them hinged on one side and secured by leather straps on the other. When Joe had first stumbled upon them, they’d reminded him of the kind that held pirate treasure. “And all this was in the attic?” she marveled. “I can’t wait to see what you bring me from the rest of the house.”
“There’s a lot,” Joe said. “I hope you’ll have enough room.”
Kathleen nodded. “What doesn’t fit here can go in my garage. I can make it work.”
They made their way through the list. Kathleen impressed Joe with her knowledge of antiques, although she claimed to know next to nothing. “I’m still learning. You should have seen my great-aunt. She was a walking encyclopedia. I have to look up most things. She left me these reference books, and I study them whenever I get a chance, but I could go my whole life and not know it all.”
She paused, and her expression became serious. “Now this,” she said. “This is interesting.”
She knelt down in front of a large wooden box, admiring the carving on the top that had only become evident after Joe had cleaned it. Once the grime had been washed away, he was amazed as a two-dimensional image of two birds, a heart between them, came into view. The carving had been so painstakingly done that the feathers were shown in detail. Below the birds, a name had been carved: Alice. As soon as Joe saw the name, he knew it had belonged to Pearl’s older sister, the one who’d died too young. The biggest tragedy of his grandmother’s life.
Kathleen ran her finger over the top and flipped back the lid. “This is gorgeous,” she said. “The craftsmanship is amazing.”
“Is it from some famous manufacturer?”
“No, I don’t think so. If I had to guess, I’d say this is a custom piece. A onetime labor of love.” She looked up at him. “What was inside it?”
“It was full of what looked like junk. Yellowed fabric that I think were tablecloths and napkins, and some candlesticks that are still back at the house. They’re tarnished.”
“Real silver, then. My guess is that this was Alice’s hope chest. Girls used to fill them with things they’d need when they got married and had a household of their own.” She inspected the hinges and the latch, all the while talking. “It was clever the way it was constructed from solid oak and lined with cedar. The cedar was to keep the moths out. And the corners, here?” She pointed at the outside edges. “Dovetail joints. Tricky to do back then. This is one hope chest that was made for the ages. It was most likely built by Alice’s father. I’d heard he was quite the carpenter. Such a sad thing that his daughter didn’t live long enough to use all the things in this beautiful hope chest.”
“How did you know that she died?” Joe asked, astounded.
“Alice Bennett was my aunt Edna’s best friend. She mentioned her several times.”
“My grandmother told me that her sister Alice died too young and that it was a tragedy, but she didn’t want to say any more than that.” Joe remembered the pained look on Pearl’s face during this conversation. “Do you know how Alice died?”