Flea Market Find

"Jeanine didn't say," Chuck replied as he took a curve, "but there are possibilities. Could be they overextended on some business deal, had a cash flow problem, and had to sell the place to get the money to get out of the bind. Could be the estate was seized for nonpayment of taxes, or under the RICO statutes. Could be the family suffered financial reverses and got foreclosed on. Could be it's a foreign family that does business here, they're moving back home, they aren't going to return, and the cost of moving their stuff is higher than it would cost to replace it. Those are just a few reasons mansions and estates wind up with someone like Jeanine liquidating the contents.

"Whatever the reason, before the owners, the bank, or the yankee gummint can sell the property it has to be cleared out. That is where a professional estate sale operator comes in. She sells off everything back to the bare walls, pays tax on the gross, and takes a percentage of the net as her fee."

"And the stuff that doesn't sell? Mom and Dad have done a couple of tag sales, and we had stuff left over when it was done ..."

"Depends on what's left over. Furniture and clothing usually goes to Goodwill or a Habitat store, whichever is handier. Kitchen plunder and tchotchkes, to a thrift store. Trash goes into a dumpster to be hauled away. Jeanine's usual deal is to turn a house over broom-clean to whoever contracted for her services. That's how I first came to know her.

"Her son has a small junk-hauling/clean-out company and he was looking for part time help. He took me on when I was 15. After a couple of times when I picked things from the dumpster Richie had thrown away as trash and sold them to dealers for good money, Jeanine heard about it and brought me on part time with her, back in the days before the Internet made it easy to find out how much something is worth and you just had to read and know what you were looking at. I worked for her all through high school and in college when I was home, and she taught me salesmanship, how to negotiate with customers, why presentation matters, how to wheel and deal, just as I'm teaching you kids. I know you, Amy, Kevin, and Clint have studied from books and been in the business club for three years; but as you are learning, there are big differences between how the books say things work and the way they really do. The idea in any sales business is to move the stock, and within reason you have to be willing to do whatever is needed to close the sale."

Questions from Maria and Chuck's answers on the philosophy of selling things took them all the way to Elmwood Manor. Built during the Gilded Age by a railroad magnate who had sidelines in coal, cattle, and horses, the mansion and its outbuildings were made of red brick with granite window and door surrounds in the Renaissance Revival style. The look of the place overawed Maria.

"It's hard to believe that in this day and age, people who aren't European royalty still live in places like this," she whispered, staring at the main house after they parked along the wide, sweeping, graveled drive that led up to the double doors that opened into the mansion.

"Not many, but a few," allowed Chuck as they walked toward an arched oak and iron-strapped door that would have looked at home in a centuries-old English church. "Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut inside just in case the owners are still around. This house will give you an idea of how the other half lives. Look for the quality, not necessarily for the taste. And after we complete our business, if you want to do a little shopping on your own behalf, feel free."

"I didn't bring a lot of money with me," temporized Maria.

"I'll advance you cash against your future paychecks," Chuck said easily. He paused on the verge of opening the door. "One bit of advice. Remember that this is not a retail store. If you pass on something and reconsider, it may not be there when you go back after it, so think before you decide. Oh yes: keep this in mind, too -- Jeanine doesn't usually negotiate on Day One of a sale, but on Day Two she drops prices to half of ticket, and in the last four hours she'll deal like mad just to get the stuff out of the house, because every item she sells is one less thing she has to deal with when bringing the house to a broom-clean state. You can get some astonishing deals, as you will see."

They passed through the door and found themselves standing in a huge foyer at the foot of a curved double staircase that led up to the second floor, with a marble-floored corridor leading deeper into the house, with elaborately carved doors leading off it into various rooms. The door by the left stair opened into a library more suited to a small school than a house, and the one by the right stair into a sitting room of some sort. Between the two staircases, a table had been set up with a cashbox and a woman behind it, obviously where you checked out. A brunette with salt-and-pepper hair was seated behind the table talking to a tanned, petite woman about the same size as Maria, but with a bouffant honey blonde hairdo that given her age had to be a dye job. She spotted the two flea marketers and came trotting over. Chuck kissed her cheek.

"Chuck! It's great to see you again! How are you doing? And who's this girl with you?"

"It's great to see you too, Jeanine. I'm just fine. This is Maria Feriana, one of my flea market trainees. Maria, this is Jeanine Calabrese. She's the one who trained me the way I am training you. I suppose that sort of makes her your flea market grandmother," he said with a smile.

Jeanine laughed and gave the girl a hug. "I suppose it does at that. Well, Chuck, since I called you I know what you're after. Let's go have a look."

The big market bag filled with tightly rolled laundry bags swinging from his hand, the trio walked up the right hand staircase, then turned left down the corridor. Jeanine led them to a room that spanned the width of that wing of the house, the master suite. Opposite each of the two double four-posters on either side of the double doors were two single doors. One led to a bathroom, the other to a walk-in closet. She pointed at the doors on the left.

"That's hers," she said, "and that one," waving at the other side of the bedroom doors, "is his. Look them over."

"Maria, you look at 'hers.' I'll take 'his.' I'll see you in a couple of minutes. Be ready to tell me what you think the whole contents in there is worth."

"Me? I've never done anything like that before!" she gasped. Chuck and Jeanine both smiled.

"You have to start somewhere, kid. Just remember what you've learned pricing back at the shop and apply the same rules. Jeanine, let's you and me look at this one." He started for the master's closet with Jeanine next to him. Maria shivered and went for the mistress's. As soon as they were in the closet, the two veterans chuckled.

"She'll do all right. I can tell," Jeanine said. "Now, what do you think of this lot?" she asked, sweeping her arm to encompass the closet. Charles walked around the room slowly, looking at the suits, pants, coats and shirts hanging in their rows from fine wooden hangers, the shoes neatly arranged in their cubbyholes, the belts hanging from their pegs and the silk ties on their own rack. He took notice of labels like Countess Mara, Ralph Lauren, Gucci, Versace, Vineyard Vines, Burberry, and Hermes. The styles ranged from business formal to country casual, including dinner jackets, tuxedos, and white tie. He fingered a couple of the shirts thoughtfully, noting that few of them were monogrammed, which was good; embroidered monograms are impossible to remove or disguise. He looked at Jeanine, nodded, and they left the walk-in. Chuck closed the door and reached into his pocket, taking out a small roll of labels he had prepared. He affixed one to the door, sealing it shut with a sticker that declared, "Sold! Emerson's Emporium." They walked across to the mistress's walk-in closet and dressing room, where Maria had taken down a red Vera Wang formal and was looking it over.

"Well, what do you think? Is it worth buying everything?" he asked. Maria started, then relaxed.

"Oh, for sure." She motioned him to a corner away from Jeanine and they whispered together for a minute before Maria reluctantly hung the dress back on its rack. They left the closet and Chuck again sealed the closet with a sticker indicating he had bought all within.

"There are these things here," Jeanine said, pointing at eight or nine packing boxes that held the contents of the bureaus and the highboy. "Sports casual, mostly." Chuck motioned the girl to check one box while he looked at another. After a hasty dig-through, she nodded to him and he handed her the roll of seals, which she used to tape the boxes shut. Jeanine nodded.

"Where next?" he asked. The experienced sale operator led them to the opposite wing of the mansion, to the smaller bed-sitters and baths that had housed the children of the family. Judging by the clothing still in the closets and drawers, they had lived there until their graduation from college or even a little beyond. Maria split off and headed for a staircase she saw farther down the hall. Chuck looked over the contents of the walk-ins and sealed those closets, as well as the boxes holding what had come out of the bureaus. The two adults walked back to the small musicians' gallery between the two sweeping staircases, leaning on the marble balustrade and looking down into the entryway. A minute later, Chuck's teenage associate joined them.

"There are some more clothes and footwear here and there in some of the other closets and by the mud room," Jeanine said, "but you've seen most all of it. What do you think?"

"Definitely worth the trip, Jeanine. Tell me: are there any furs?"

"Eight or ten coats and stoles; they are on a rack in the main hallway. Mostly female mink, but one sable full-length coat and one vintage ermine opera cloak in surprisingly good shape. Interested?"

"Yes. What do you want for all of it, including the furs?"

Jeanine considered, biting her lip in a way that reminded Chuck of Maria when she was considering what price to set on a really nice dress or blouse. At last she named a price for the furs and five walk-in closets-worth of high end and custom designer clothes. Chuck did not even blink.

"Done! Maria and I will start bagging the stuff up at once. Where can we pile it up while we're working?"

"Pick a corner of the library, I don't expect too much traffic in there. Throw a sheet or something over the bags with one of your 'Sold' stickers on it. I'll tell Dotty at checkout to keep an eye on the library, and I'll ask Audrey to speed up her roaming between there, the study, and the dining room, but I don't have enough people to put someone in there to watch your pile."

Maria, who had been silent as her boss and his former boss had so easily reached an understanding based on many years of experience, now spoke up. "Excuse me, but does that price include anything we find in the attic or the cellar? And what about the guest house?"

Jeanine was amused, smiling at a girl she saw as a two generations younger version of herself. "Tell you what. Chuck, up that price by a hundred bucks, and all the clothing, footwear, coats, the whole megilla, is yours. I haven't really looked in the attic, but there wasn't a whole lot up there; it was emptied out before I took the contract. And if you two happen to find anything else you fancy, we'll negotiate for it." Maria smiled with satisfaction. Chuck pulled a reusable shopping bag out of his Tyvek market bag and handed it to Maria, shoving half a dozen tightly rolled thin cotton bags into it. She looked a question at him.

"You take the mistress, and I'll take the master closet back in the big bedroom. I know our usual practice is to take the clothes off the hangers, but we have five walk-in closets to deal with and we can't spare the time. The sale will open to the public in a few minutes. Some people will ignore 'sold' stickers and go after what they want anyway. So fold things as neatly as you can into the bags, tie them off, and move on to the next one. If you need more bags, come and get some from me. When we're done, we'll ferry everything down to the library and move on to the kids' rooms. Before you start, seal the attic door shut and see if you can lock it. We'll tackle that later. Okay?"

"Okay." Maria went upstairs while Chuck headed for the rack of furs.

Two hours later, all five walk-in closets had been bagged up and ferried down to the library, where a king-sized sheet stenciled with "SOLD" and the Emerson's Emporium logo over and over covered them. Maria looked at it.

"You brought this with you? Did you think we'd buy that much?"

"Maria, this may be your first time to the big game, but it's not mine. We're not here as individuals searching for a bargain or that one missing piece from our collection; we're pickers. This stuff is being bought for resale, remember. Oh, if you find something you fancy toss it in and we'll settle up later, as I said before, so you get the bulk price benefit. Just remember the mission.

"Now, what did you see in the attic that you think Jeanine missed? Something a pro that has been in the biz longer than your parents have been alive overlooked? I want to get full value for my extra hundred bucks!"

The pair of intrepid pickers broke the seal and went up into the attic, looking for and finding a light switch to supplement the sunlight coming in from the dormer windows in the roof. The slate roof was high enough over their heads that they could walk upright. She led him down to the far end. There were trunks stacked in the shadows there, and some old cloth hanging storage closets. She unzipped one of them and drew out a silk and lace wedding dress, handling it gently due to its age. There were three other dresses of similar vintage in there as well.

"I think this alone justifies the extra cash, boss. Good thing they hung them on wooden hangers and not wire ones; we'd never get the rust stains out. But that's not all. The other storage closet bags have morning coats and long winter coats, and the steamer trunk beside them has all the accessories -- spats, gloves, silk ties, shirts, everything. There are hatboxes, too, men's and women's. And look here."

She opened up a green trunk that had the name, rank, and serial number of its owner stenciled on it. The top tray contained boxes, some pasteboard, some leather, some cigar boxes, that held medals, ribbons on a double ribbon bar, pin-on rank and branch insignia, belts, cloth unit patches, and a holstered pistol. Lifting out the tray, Chuck found officer's blouses in khaki and olive brown, khaki and brown shirts, ties in both colors, a khaki trenchcoat, two billed hats, and russet brown shoes. He looked at her.

"Near as I can tell, it's the complete wardrobe of a World War II infantry officer; I saw crossed rifles, and that means infantry. I took a quick look at the others. There's one that looks like it's from the movie Sergeant York we had to watch in History, another one that is green with gold buttons and black stripes, and one from the Navy that's double-breasted blue with gold sleeve stripes and a white hat. Did I do good?"

Chuck responded by handing Maria a strip of labels like the ones he'd used to seal the closets downstairs. "You done real good. Tag 'em all, including the bags. Then you tag all the rest of the trunks. I'll start down with the bags. You stand by here and keep the bargain-hunters off our stuff."

As he carried the first load down, he met a customer on the way up to the attic. "Don't bother; everything up there is sold," he said firmly. The woman looked disappointed but kept going anyway.

It took Chuck a few minutes to wind his way through the horde of bargain-hunters to deposit the bags with his stash in the library. When he got back to the attic, he found Maria arguing with the lady he had passed on the stairs, who had opened two of the trunks and was taking things out of them despite Maria's protests. He stepped in.

"Ma'am, which word of 'Everything up here is sold' didn't you understand? I made a deal with Jeanine for the whole lot. I'll thank you to put my items back in the trunk." He gave her a firm, steady look.

"Well!" said the well-dressed, upper crust woman. She turned to leave in high dudgeon, but was stopped by Chuck's outstretched hand.

"You're not going anywhere until you load those trunks back up. You took them apart, and you are going to put them back together." They locked eyes, and the woman was the one who broke contact.

"Do you know who I am?" she huffed as she began stuffing the clothes she had taken out of the trunk back any old way.

"I don't care if you're the Duchess of Carpania or the Queen of the May. You know what rank and social position mean at an estate sale? Absolutely nothing. He who gets to the item first, gets the item, period, end of discussion." The lady finished shoving the clothes back into the steamer trunk and Maria closed it, putting a seal across the join between the lid and the body. Chuck extended a card to the matron and continued, "But if you saw something you fancy, come to the Grand Bazaar in a week or two, after we've had a chance to get things into inventory. No hard feelings. Or if you'd rather, call and tell me what you are interested in. Perhaps we could get together at the shop and make a deal."

The woman looked thoughtful. "I've never been to the Grand Bazaar, though I've heard of it, of course. What's it like?"

"Have you ever been to the Saint-Ouen Flea Market in Paris?" She nodded. "It's like that, only more eclectic and not nearly so well organized. The vendor layout varies from one week to the next. You never know what you are going to find; that's part of the fun. One thing: If you go there looking for a specific something, the chances are fair you won't find it. But if you go with the idea you're going to find something neat, you just don't know what yet, you'll find something you didn't even know you were looking for."

She smiled for the first time. "I'll have to give it a try some weekend soon," she said, shooting a quick look at the business card, "Mr. Emerson. I'm Mrs. Clarisse Cabot. I regret our starting off on the wrong foot, but it is a pleasure to meet you. Expect to see me again, if all your stock is like this." Mrs. Cabot left, her dignity salvaged.

As they worked the steamer trunk down the stairs, Maria said, "That has to be one of the best examples of salesmanship I've ever seen, boss. I thought she was going to bite your head off, and by the end she was giving you the eye and wondering. You had her eating out of your hand."

"Years of practice selling cars, Maria. Treat people fairly, even if they start out disrespectful, and you will wind up selling them on your product. And our product is not just our stock, but also our reputation. We're just starting to build the rep for Emerson's Emporium, but if Mrs. Cabot really does follow up and comes to the Bazaar, we'll treat her as fairly as every other customer, and the word will spread. From tiny acorns do mighty oak trees grow."

The military trunks, and the rectangular steamer trunks from the days when one "crossed in style" aboard seagoing palaces with names like Normandie, Queen Mary, Aquitania, Independence, and Leviathan were easy to get down to the library. The dome-top trunks, made with oak staves and heavy gauge brass fittings, were much more awkward and difficult to move. Chuck warned Maria against lifting them by their leather handles, because not having been properly maintained with neatsfoot oil or leather conditioner for decades they were likely to tear. Carrying the last one down to the library, as she came off the bottom step of the grand staircase Maria slipped and lost her grip. It landed on her foot and she yelped, her eyes bulging from the burst of pain. Chuck quickly lifted it off and she sat on the bottom marble step, swearing softly as tears ran down her face and she held her foot, massaging it to ease the hurt. Jeanine, who had just finished making a deal at the checkout table, came running to sit next to the girl and put an arm around her.