The ad seemed normal, yet it pulled at him, occupying his mind while he drove. Antique mariner’s chest. Ornate and bold, sturdy, keeper of secrets old and new. Sold as part of an estate sale. Pick up only. $40.
Tom finished his cruise through Freeport and took the right on-ramp onto the interstate. The old truck rattled a bit and shifted into overdrive, unfamiliar territory, as he merged onto Interstate 95. Memorial Day weekend traffic wasn’t bad in the middle of the long weekend, he thought. Tomorrow it would be murder.
He had written to the elderly man who put the ad online about meeting at two in Brunswick. He was going to be there a couple minutes early. The compounding factor, he thought, was that the man hadn’t responded to his text asking for the address. He figured he would head toward the general area, expecting that the reply text would arrive some time along the way, indicating a more specific destination to his journey. No text yet.
The chest did not look to be an identical match to the one he had in college. Based on the pictures in the ad, it looked to be a bit smaller and more ornate. The college chest had been mostly metal – metal latches, metal trim – only the handles had been constructed of heavy leather. The Brunswick chest also had leather straps and ornate wooden reinforcement, giving it more character and detail. And the ad wording – bold – captured another dimension to the chest. It had an aura or magnetism to it.
He had purchased the original college chest during the summer before his senior year. Ten dollars was the asking price at a yard sale. He had transported it, along with all his other furniture, to the apartment that his girlfriend had picked out. The chest was in pristine shape and seemed a natural fit in the apartment, serving as a table and also storage beside his old brown recliner.
He continued along 95, spotting the exit sign – Brunswick in two miles. He merged back into the right lane to be ready to exit.
The college apartment had been a three bedroom affair on the second floor above the small town’s general store. His girlfriend had picked it out since she lived locally. The building was a turn of-the-century wood construction that had a few abnormalities – there was a second floor shed attached, the upstairs hallway had a left-to-right sloped floor and the only bathroom was at the opposite end from the bedrooms, attached the kitchen and near the shed.
Previously, there had been a scandal at this building which had occurred almost twenty years before. The realtor had reluctantly told his girlfriend that a father had killed his family in the large closet attached to the third bedroom, which was situated at the end of the hallway. Gruesome affair, the realtor had stated, and abstained from going into any further detail.
As he decelerated off the exit, Tom saw restaurants, convenience stores and car dealerships bordering the four lanes of Route 1. This continued for more than a mile, then Route 1 turned left as Pleasant Street extended straight ahead up the hill toward downtown Brunswick. He followed the extension and pondered about what to do, given he didn’t have the final address yet.
He saw a sign for the local grocery store pointing to the right, indicating a tenth of a mile distance. He made the turn and quickly missed a left entrance into the store parking lot. A high fence barricaded that side of the road, so he turned left at the next intersection, hopeful he could find another entrance.
A white three-story office building rose on the right. A Thai restaurant called the Yellow Rose and an Irish pub, Finnigan’s, occupied the bottom floor while offices took up the second and third floors. Umbrella-covered tables were set up cafe-style outside Finnigan’s with a sign offering ‘Guinness for Lunch’.
He could settle there for a bit until he heard from the chest owner, he thought. Sitting in the sun with a Guinness on what finally felt like the first day of summer suddenly appealed to him. He didn’t need to be anywhere that Sunday afternoon as his wife was off dining with other wives at a new restaurant in Portland.
The road continued to another four way intersection. He took another left turn and found an entrance to the grocery store parking lot. Parking the truck, he locked it and headed over to Finnigan’s. No one was sitting outside, so he went inside to let someone know he intended to sit outside. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, he saw that there were a few tables in the front and a rectangular bar in the back made of dark wood, perhaps mahogany. Only two patrons sat at the bar. The young woman tending the bar looked up. “Good afternoon. Sit anywhere you like. I’ll be right with you.”
“I’m gonna sit outside. Can I trouble you for a Guinness?”
“No trouble. I’ll bring it right out. Twelve or sixteen ounces?”
“Twelve is fine.”
He stepped back outside and chose a table away from the road but in the sunlight. A few people were around – one man walking his dog and a lady with athletic clothes on, out for a jog. He always thought of Brunswick as an older retirement community. Bowdoin College was located here, but he still thought of the town as a bit old and stuffy, particularly in the summer when the students were gone.
The waitress appeared with his Guinness. She wore a white short sleeve blouse and a short green skirt. “Would you like to see a menu?”
“I’m all set. Just wanted to enjoy a beer and the first warmth of summer.”
“Ok, let me know if you change your mind.” She turned with a flair of her skirt and went back into the pub.
He examined the tiny bubbles rising in his beer and drew a taste into his mouth. He was always surprised how light Guinness tasted versus it’s dark and heavy appearance. Kind of an analogy for his life, he thought. Light happy past versus dark heavy present. Was the chest a subconscious act to bring back that carefree feeling in his life and feel less responsibility and pressure?
The complexity of his life had been weighing on him. He had been discarding material items and trying to simplify his life – finances, belongings, responsibilities, relationships – he was paring them to their essential core. He also was trying to determine what really made him happy and focus on those few simple experiences and belongings.
After another sip of his beer, he put his sunglasses back on and leaned back in his chair. Even the simple warmth of the sun on such a nice day made him happy. How many times had he been too busy to enjoy the sun?
He cleared his mind and angled his face toward the sun. BZZZT. BZZZT. His phone indicated the arrival of an incoming text message. He leaned forward, raised his sunglasses up over his head and read the text.
Sorry I didn’t reply sooner. Just leaving the school where I work. The address is 12 Maple Lane. What time should I expect you?
It was now a little after two and he had ten of his twelve ounces yet to finish. Maybe twenty more minutes in the sun, he thought. He texted back stating he would be there at two thirty.
A moment later – BZZZT BZZZT. The response chimed in.
Perfect! See you then!
After entering the address into his phone, he saw that 12 Maple Lane was only about a three minute drive. He already had two crisp twenty dollar bills, so he didn’t need to stop for cash.
He took another sip of beer, contemplating his attraction to the chest. Keeper of secrets old and new. Was attraction the right word? Perhaps yearning better described its pull on him. He was ready for new adventures, new secrets. The current architecture of his life needed a structural adjustment.
The mental connection of the Guinness and his old college chest stirred a vivid college memory for him. Many of his friends had traveled from all over New England to crash a party that he and his roommates had thrown on the first weekend they had lived in that apartment. They drank too many beers, played wiffle ball in the shed and eventually had left the apartment trashed with empty beer bottles and stale pizza crust. Two guests had fallen asleep on the couch on the roof over the store that could be accessed through the living room window. Upon arrival at four the next morning to begin the store’s daily baking routine, Tom’s landlord was pissed to see what evening escapades had taken place so early in their new rental relationship. He immediately crafted an eviction letter and stuck it in the door for his tenants to see on what would be their first day of senior classes. Already evicted because of a great party on the first day of class. That was a worthy story that Tom still told friends today.
The eviction image made him chuckle and smile. He finished his beer and left a five dollar bill under the mug to cover the cost and tip. Crossing the street, he got back in his truck and charted his course to 12 Maple Lane.
As he eased the truck out of the parking lot, he thought back on his college girlfriend. She had picked out the apartment and then became an unofficial roommate, staying in his bedroom and sharing in the cooking and cleaning routines. She also joined the rotation to shuttle his roommate Matthew back and forth to the university since he didn’t have a car. She had been by his side when he went, hat in hand, groveling back to the landlord, promising no more parties in exchange for remaining in the apartment. She had probably sold the deal for him. Upon graduation, she moved out of state with him to begin their new life and his first job in Virginia.
He turned one last corner and arrived at 12 Maple Lane. Like it’s namesake suggested, maple trees shaded a green ranch-style home with an attached garage. The two garage doors were both open. A blue BMW convertible was parked on the side of the street adjacent to the house. As he got out of his truck, Tom could hear voices coming from the garage – one male and one female. The female voice laughed and talked rapidly as Tom approached the garage.
A short man in a jean jacket stood up straight, looked at Tom and started walking his way. “Hey, your buyer is here. I’m gonna run back to my house for a minute. Be right back.” He nodded to Tom as he walked by and climbed into the BMW. He fired up the engine and sped down the road.
“Hello, guess you’re here for the chest. Come in and take a look.” The voice was vibrant and quick. Turning back toward the garage and the woman’s voice, Tom felt he couldn’t move, transfixed by the form before him. Tendrils of auburn hair framed a tan face with large brown eyes and full lips. Her nose was small and turned up slightly, like a ski jump he thought. Ski jump, where did that come from?
She saw him pause. “Sorry, you were expecting to see my dad. You talked to him about the chest. He had a doctor’s appointment he had forgotten about, so he asked me to meet you. I get out of work at two, so that’s why I was a bit slow to respond. My dad had given you my number.” She stepped out of the garage into the afternoon sunlight. He felt himself take a step back. She wore a short sleeve white blouse and denim shorts. She had a slim runner’s body that moved in a concise yet elegant manner as she stepped toward him. He consciously fought to keep eye contact. His tongue felt dry and his mind went blank.
“Well, would you like to see it?” She waved a hand back toward the interior of the garage. “It’s back here along with all the other items from my grandfather’s house.” She turned and walked back into the garage.
“Sure, thanks,” he muttered, stumbling forward to follow her, sneaking a glance at her as she turned away. She had an infinity symbol tattooed on her right calf, resembling a slim figure eight positioned on it’s side. It was simple, clean and tasteful.
The garage was two bays wide, but expanded back to a cavernous area that easily could have stored two extra vehicles. Within this space, a variety of antique furniture was lined up systematically like large chess pieces. She hovered at the second row where the chest stood at the front of the line.
“My grandfather used to have this in his study beside his recliner. He set his coffee on it in the morning and his whiskey on it in the afternoon.” She reached down, pulled the latches on each side and opened the chest. Her hair fell forward as she bent, obscuring her face. An ornate system of wooden trays covered the top of the chest. “You can store smaller items here.” Still bent forward, he noticed, she lifted the trays. “And you can store larger items below.”
Searching to find his voice, he said, “It looks to be in good shape.”
She set the trays back in place, stood up and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, unclear if he was talking specifically about the chest.
To recover, he stammered, “It’s similar to a chest I had in college, but it’s more ornate and well taken care of. I’m surprised you, or I guess your dad, are not asking for more money for it.”
“My grandfather had so much stuff, as you can see. We’re just trying to sell it to people that will recognize the value and use the furniture. There’s not enough space in this house for all of it. We’ve kept out the items that have meaning to us.”
He tried to focus on the chest, but couldn’t get her eyes and her vanilla scented hair out of his thoughts. Not clear on what to say next, he felt he needed to fill the silence.
“What did your grandfather do to collect so many pieces of furniture?”
She didn’t object to the change in conversation. “He traveled all around the world, for business at first. Soon he came to love certain regions and started his own business importing items and reselling them here in the United States. He had a shop downtown that became quite a destination for people with money looking for unique collectibles. Most of his collecting involved art and furniture, but sometimes he also imported wines and whiskeys.”
As he watched her speaking, he became obsessed with her energy and movement. She seemed tireless, yet constantly aware and curious like a small child. They locked eyes for a moment, and he had to look away for fear of revealing his thoughts by staring too much.
“His house was full of items from all around the world. His will divided up his belongings among many family members, so we had to sell his house and separate everything. What you see here is what is left.” She gazed reflectively upon the rows of antiques. “In some ways it hurts to sell them as I remember spending so much time among these items as a little girl. He took me to Europe many times and helped to foster my love of travel.”
“Sounds like a remarkable person and grandfather. You were lucky to have had him.” He looked back at her, suddenly afraid he had gone too far in what he had said.
“You’re right. We only find a few people like that in our lives. I’ve felt a void since his death.” He saw her energy level visually drain as she spoke. “I’m a high energy person myself, and I owe that to him. He was up early, ate well and loved to engage the world at his level. He didn’t worry about world politics, but tried to engage and control what was within his realm. I try to live like him every day, and cherish the moments we spent together. He would have me over for afternoon tea on the weekends. We would talk about his past adventures, but he always made time to ask me about what was going on in my life. Talking to him always gave me perspective. Some of my favorite moments.”
She shook herself out of her funk and looked at Tom. “Anyway, what do you think? Are you interested?”
Tom had to refocus as he momentarily forgot she was asking about the chest. “I’ll buy it. It’s exactly what I’m looking for as it causes me to reflect in much the same manner as you have described. I had a similar chest when I was in college, which was a very happy time in my life.”
“Then it sounds like it’s going to a good home with a good future. It’s funny how objects can make us reflect so strongly.” She closed the top of the chest and secured the latches. “I can help you load it in your truck.”
He pulled his wallet from his front pocket and handed two crisp twenty dollar bills to her. “That would be great. Here’s the money.”
She stuffed the money in the front pocket of her shorts and leaned forward to grab the leather handle. As she bent, her hair fell forward, framing the cleavage line that appeared above the vee neck of her t-shirt. He had to refocus again. He grabbed the other leather handle and they walked in unison out of the garage, down the driveway and stopped at the back of his truck. He opened the lift gate with his other hand, and they hoisted the chest onto the gate.
“Perfect, thanks.” he said.
Opening the passenger side door, he pulled straps from under the seat. He climbed into the back of the truck, moved the chest to the front, directly behind the cab, and secured it with the straps. “That ought to hold it just fine.”
“Looks like you’re all set. Sorry I sent the address so late.”
He felt the finality of their interaction and tried to draw out the conversation. “No problem, Brunswick’s not that big a town – I wasn’t worried. It gave me a chance to get a Guinness at the Irish pub.”
“Oh, Finnigan’s. Their food is good.”
“I just sat outside and enjoyed the sun. Sometimes I forget to do that – stop and enjoy the moment.”
She nodded. “It’s easy to do. My grandfather would always say ‘Every moment matters.’ As I continue to get older, I understand this more each day.” She smiled and brushed the hair from her face.
He was mesmerized in this moment, he thought. “I have a question that I meant to ask when I first got here, but I forgot. In the ad for the chest, it states ‘keeper of secrets, old and new.’ Did you write that?”
She laughed and her cheeks turned slightly red. “Yes, it definitely catches your attention, doesn’t it? I added that to spice up the ad. It’s how I saw that chest as a little girl when I would sit on my grandfather’s lap and he would tell stories of far away places where he had traveled. I was never allowed to open it, so I would imagine the vast secrets of the world he would store in that chest when he came back from each trip. Crazy, huh?”
“It definitely drew my attention. I like how the chest still gives you such vivid images.” He didn’t know where to guide the conversation, but didn’t want it to end.. He had already been there longer than a normal Craigslist transaction should last. “Well, I guess I’ll be heading out. Thanks again for meeting me and selling the chest. Given the stories you tell, I’m surprised you can sell it.”
“I have great memories from that time, but now it just makes me sad. I kept other items that remind me of him. My brother has enough of his furniture. He got his old car as well.”
That was her brother that left, he thought.
“That’s good. Sounds like he was a great man and loving grandfather.” He paused for a second, deciding to extend a subtle invitation given the brother situation that just unfolded. “It’s been a real pleasure meeting you. I’d love to hear more about you and your grandfather, but I’ve been here long enough. I wish you the best of luck for a long happy future.”
“Thanks. It was nice to meet you as well. I hope you enjoy the chest.” She extended her hand as a gesture to close their deal and bid him farewell. Reluctantly, he shook her hand and smiled. “Drive carefully. Brunswick is full of tourists this Memorial weekend.” She smiled and took a step back toward the curb.
Unable to think of another way to continue their interaction, he pulled his keys from his pocket, nodded goodbye and climbed in his truck. Sneaking one last look at her through the rear window, he watched her walk back up the driveway and disappear into the garage. He paused, smiled to himself in the mirror and started the truck.
As he drove away, he felt he had missed a vague but strong opportunity. Should he stop and go back? It felt compelling, but irrational. Undecided and uncommitted, he continued to drive down Maple Lane without stopping or slowing down.
He thought for a moment as he drove about the important times in his life when he had or had not made a firm decision. His tendency had been to sometimes allow things to happen to him in a manner he didn’t always understand or control. He sometimes focused on one portion of his life that he lost balance in other areas.
Gazing as he drove, he passed Finnigan’s where he had previously enjoyed a Guinness and the warm sun. The only way that might be better is having someone with whom to share those moments.
He thought about her inviting brown eyes and the vanilla smell of her hair. He had nothing to lose. In fact, he needed to be bold. If she said no, well, that would just be the first secret he would keep in his new chest.
Braking, he turned right into the grocery store parking lot and picked up his cell phone. After a pause, he said, “Hey, it’s me again. I had one other question for you.”
Daniel Peary 