“Ah, you’re very clever.”
They kept putting books into boxes, just books and books and books, and Laurie kept filling a small shoebox with little mementos. She kept a refrigerator magnet that said KISS MY GRITS, and a set of coasters with art deco patterns on them, and a ceramic owl the size of her thumb that sat on the kitchen windowsill.
After a while, Matt emerged from the bedroom. “Okay. So, are we ready for a first pass on the valuables from the bedroom?” They all sat down together. He explained that while Dot didn’t have a big collection of expensive jewelry, her opal ring might sell, plus a watch with a couple of small diamonds on it. He also thought he could get some money for her quilt, which was of good quality and in good condition. But that was about it. He gave them a quote, and Laurie told him to put it all on consignment, hoping that in the end, the money she made might cover her plane ticket. Then she held up her great treasure. “Did you see my duck?” she asked.
“The decoy?” His grin sloped to the side a little and made an asterisk wrinkle appear by the corner of his eye. “I did. Do you know where she got it? Any hunters in the family?”
Laurie shook her head. “Not even a little. I thought maybe you’d know. I also don’t know why it was in the blanket chest instead of out on the shelves with the rest of her stuff.”
“Do you mind if I take a closer look?” he said, and Laurie handed it to him. “It’s in really solid condition. How about I give you $50 and see what I can get for it? I make more than that, we’ll split it.”
Laurie smiled. “I’m pretty attached to it. I think I’m going to keep it.”
“Laurie knows a lot about ducks,” June offered. “She writes magazine articles about frogs and swamps and things.” She didn’t add that Laurie also wrote for alumni magazines and trade magazines and other not-glamorous outlets that paid her dependably and hired her regularly.
“Really? That’s amazing. I’m kind of a nature dork; what have you written recently?”
“Well,” Laurie said, “I wrote a thing for The Atlantic about the Texas blue lizard, a species that probably doesn’t exist but is legendary anyway.”
“That was you? I read that. I loved it,” he said with a smile. “I can’t blame you for hanging on to the duck. I would, too. Do you mind if I take a couple of pictures of it? I have a buddy who knows all about these things, and I’m sure he’d love to see it. Maybe he’ll even know something about it.”
“Of course,” Laurie said. “The more eyes on it the better.”
“That’s very nice of you,” June said pointedly. “Laurie will have to figure out how to thank you.”
“No need,” he said. “I’m happy to help.” He took a few pictures with his phone while Laurie tried to look at June so hard that her forehead would catch fire. “Make sure you take good care of it,” he added.
“Oh, I will.”
It took him a couple of hours to work his way through the rest of the house while Laurie and June unpacked dresses and purses and took care of almost all the clothes in the closet. When they all gathered in the living room again, he didn’t offer to buy much. There was a hand-carved tray he thought might bring about a hundred dollars, and Dot’s mother had left her a silver teapot; that was good for a little more. A few other things, small things. But nobody was going to buy her Polaroids or her old cameras. As he finished the paperwork for the contract, Laurie sat on the couch and fidgeted. “So,” she began, “do you live here in Calcasset?”
“Camden,” he answered. Pretty close. “You said you grew up here?”
“Yeah, until I left for college. My parents moved to Florida around then for my dad’s job. And now that they’re older, it’s nice to be there since it’s a lot warmer, obviously.” She paused. “Do you have kids?” For some reason, when she wanted to know whether a guy was single, she always heard herself ask if he had kids, which was not the right question, since it was both overbroad and not broad enough, but it was easier to pass off as idle curiosity. Just regular questions: Where are you from? What do you do? Do you have durable domestic attachments?
“I don’t,” he said. “I have a dog. But he’s very demanding.”
Behind him, June made a face, a little “aw” face, like she’d just seen a kitten pick a flower.
“By the way, I sent the pictures of the duck to my buddy. He recognized it, says he thinks it’s mass-produced, so it doesn’t really have resale value. My guess is that your aunt forgot all about it. You’d be surprised how often people pick things up, they keep them, and before they know it, it’s twenty years later, or fifty, and the thing is still in the basement or the cedar chest or it’s inside an old suitcase. I wish I had a more exciting answer for you.” He folded his arms. “People are mysterious, is what I guess I’m saying.” Was that a twinkle? It might have been a twinkle. It was at least twinkle-adjacent. Twinkle-ish. “I think if I put it in my store, it’ll sell as a nice piece of decor, so I’m still willing to offer you those fifty bucks if you want to take a flyer on it.” He paused. “So to speak.”