Iris had seen her great-aunt’s date of birth on various documents, so she did the mental math. “That would have made her thirty-two, quite a bit older than you.”
“Oh yes. But I admired her. She never married, and I was curious how she made ends meet. We went to the same church, so I tried to get to know her. It wasn’t easy. Gertie had no patience for silly questions.”
“So what happened?”
“I got married like my parents wanted. Raised a couple of kids, and now I have grandchildren. Unlike Gertie, I picked the conventional path. But we got together every week to work in the garden. We’d rotate, hers or mine. We made apple wine together here, right in the basement, and got drunker than skunks. My husband was not amused by that, let me tell you.”
These little details might not mean much to anyone else, but Iris loved hearing them. “Did you ever find out why she didn’t get married?”
Hazel pressed her lips together briefly. “All she ever said on the subject was that she loved somebody who didn’t love her back.”
“That’s so sad.”
Hazel nodded. “Found out later that she’d taken care of her father until he passed away, leaving her alone in this big house. But it’s not all sad. As soon as she could, she went traveling. I think she was gone for a whole year.”
“Oh my god, that explains the matchbook collection.” Iris jumped up and retrieved them to show Hazel. “Just look.”
With reverent hands, the older woman sorted through what was left of Gertrude Van Doren’s memories. “This takes me back. She had a story for each one of these. I wish I could tell them like she did.”
“It would mean a lot to me if you tried, next time we get together,” Iris said.
“You mean that?” Hazel blinked a bit, as if she might be fighting off tears. Then she sighed. “I always felt like this place should be full of people. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Unaccountably, tears filled Iris’s eyes too, and she reached across the table to take Hazel’s hand in hers. “Me too. It feels like I’ve come home.”
* * *
Yard sale. Rummage sale.
Whatever the right name for it, they were having one. Eli had been hauling stuff all day. Last week, Iris’s crappy family had sent all her belongings, and she’d sorted them, determining what could be sold for fun and profit. Plus, Mira was moving in later, and with the ruckus being created by the amount of used goods currently arrayed on the front lawn, Susan from next door might have a stroke. As he understood it, anything that didn’t sell would be donated.
Along with Iris’s old stuff, they were also offering the last of Gertrude Van Doren’s worldly goods apart from the ceramic angels. Iris had donated some things earlier, but she’d held back some items she wasn’t sure about—in case they were needed for furnishings or because she couldn’t decide if the stuff should stay or go. Evidently, she was sure now.
Henry Dale grumbled beneath his breath. “I don’t see why I’m even doing this. Not getting anything out of it. Neither are you, for that matter.”
“The time has come for me to speak the truth.” Eli grinned, drawing out the momentous pause. “It’s because you’re a nice person beneath your grouchy exterior.”
Henry Dale gave him a filthy look, but Eli glimpsed the hint of a smile crinkling the older man’s eyes as he turned away to arrange the goods in a more orderly fashion. From Iris, there were old shoes and clothes, some crafts and knickknacks. From Gertrude, they had a few amateur paintings, canning supplies, some larger furniture pieces, and other odds and ends. Eli had no clue if this was even worth the time, but he did know that rummage sales were popular around here.
With the sun shining down, people wandered in and out for most of the morning. Iris joined them and peered in the tin box they were using to collect the cash. “Wow. Somebody bought the bed set I was using in Mira’s room?”
“Fifty dollars for a bed, mattress, and dresser is a steal,” Eli pointed out.
“I suppose so. You did tell them I had the mattress cleaned recently?”
“We did,” Henry Dale answered.
Today was perfect for an outdoor event, brighter than usual but not so warm that it was a hardship to be outside. Perfect sweater weather, in fact, the kind of day that should end curled up with somebody special with a romantic movie playing. And here I go again. He really couldn’t keep a lid on these thoughts when Iris was around.
She hurried off to intercept a kid who was about to see if the vase he was holding was breakable. Spoiler, it was. He laughed as the mother apologized profusely and tried to pay for the damage while Iris waved away the offer. In the end, they compromised and she took five bucks to assuage the woman’s conscience. Eli got a broom and dustpan to sweep the broken glass up from the gravel driveway.
“Oh, you’re two steps ahead of me. Thanks! I’m planning to split the proceeds with you and Henry Dale, by the way. Just so you don’t think I’m making you work for nothing.”
“You’re not making me work,” Eli said gently.
Like most other days, Sally had gone over to a friend’s house. Actually, she spent a lot of her time with Ethel, come to think of it. Eli didn’t want to make assumptions, but he did wonder if romance was blooming in that direction. Not that it was his business.
At the end of the day, there were only four boxes left. The charity service took them, and that truck was just pulling away when Mira showed up. That must have set their cranky neighbor off because Susan slammed out of her house, storming across the sea of dead leaves with an expression that boded ill for residential peace.
“I have tried to be tolerant, Lord knows that I have. But this is the last straw! Constant noise. Constant traffic. If I could, I’d sell my house and move, that’s how terribly you’re behaving!”
Mira seemed to catch the last part of that tirade as she got out of the truck, and she glanced at Eli and then Iris. “Uh, hi?”
“I’m sorry for…” Here, Iris stumbled because she didn’t even seem to know what she should be apologizing for.
Her shoulders rounded.
And he couldn’t stand seeing her this way, hurt and beaten down, searching for excuses that she had no earthly reason to make. Today, Eli couldn’t fight off the urge to step in, regardless of whether it was his place. “To my knowledge, there’s no law against holding a yard sale. And that was the last of Gertrude Van Doren’s things.”
“I’ll head inside,” Mira said, wisely choosing not to engage.
Susan scowled, focusing her wrath on Eli. “You have no right to get involved. You’re just the handyman.”
“I’m her roommate. And don’t cut me off, I had more to say. You’ve never once expressed condolences to Iris for losing a loved one, so if anyone is guilty of bad manners, it’s you, woman.”
Susan’s eyes widened, and she sucked in a shocked breath. “How many of you are there, exactly? Are you freaks starting a commune?”
He ignored her, continuing with his verbal takedown. He might be quiet, but everybody had a tipping point. “If you can sell your house, please do. Then maybe we can make friends with whoever replaces you. So move along. You’re not welcome here.”