Money Well Spent

Jen ran into the bathroom, dressing in shorts and a nice top, doing her hair. I changed in the bedroom, jeans and a comfortable tee, and she dragged me out, a death grip on my hand.

"Sleep well?"

I grinned at her mom. "Not really. Princess here was firmly convince there was a pea under the mattress. She wiggled all night, keeping me up."

Her father grinned, catching the innuendo. Jen seemed to have a permanent blush this morning. Lindsey had joined us, and she spun tales of how in love we were, while I held Jen's hand and gave her little public display of affections, even patting her bottom in front of her mother. I thought she might melt through the floor any minute.

When afternoon came, everyone hit the pool. I have to say I enjoyed Jen and Lindsey in their cute little bikinis, and Mom really rocked the one piece she had. Everyone was in the pool but me and they noticed.

"Come in, Dean. It is your pool, after all." Her mother was grinning as she said it. "Show us what Jen's been going on about these last few months."

I looked daggers at Jen and she blushed, then tried to come to my aid. "Leave him alone, Mom. He'll come in if he wants."

The twins joined in, wanting to see the 'hunk' that Jen was always bragging about. Finally I stood, and slid my tee off.

Conversation stopped. My main scar had healed, but would remain an ugly red the rest of my life. My two minor cuts and the bullet hole were just tiny white lines and a dot. Her father stood up and shook my hand, then slid his shorts up a little, showing two holes in his thigh that looked the same as mine. Bullet holes.

"I was in the first Iraq war, called up reserves, and forgot to duck. Nothing like you, though."

I held his arm. "Exactly like me, sir. You fought for your country and got wounded, same as me. Never downplay your service. Never."

He blushed and nodded. His wife and girls were looking at him like it was the first time they had ever seen him. Then we were both smothered by crying women. Him with his wife and young daughters, me with Lindsey and Jen.

Jen kept saying she was sorry, because she knew I didn't like people to see my scars. I kissed them both, telling them it was all right, and jumped into the pool, taking both with me. They shreiked, and her dad followed suit, pushing her mother, and soon everyone was in the pool, having a good time.

They ended up staying an extra day, so I had my little bed buddy for another night. Jen gave her a tour of 'our' bedroom, and I noticed things, little knickknacks and pictures, that hadn't been there before. When they saw the large shower, her little sisters begged to use it, so I got evicted from my bedroom while the girls, Jen, Lindsey, and Mom, stress tested my on demand water heater. I spent quality time with her Dad and brothers. We all had a few beers, except for the youngest, and talked about all sorts of things. Right in the middle, Dad asked me about our relationship.

"How old are you?" I was thirty-one, Jen had turned twenty-four.

"You're not going to hurt my baby, are you Dean?"

I looked him in the eye and told the truth. "I'd rather die than hurt her. She is really something special, and I'm not the only one who can see it. Jen could go far in this business, if she gets a few breaks and keeps a level head. On a personal level, being around her is like having a warm sunny day, after a week of cold rain. She has a natural ability to bring out the best in everyone, and make us all want to be worthy of being in her sphere."

He gazed at me for a minute before nodding. "Good enough. I hold you to your word, Dean."

We didn't know it, but the women heard every word, and the kiss Jen gave me while her family watched had nothing to do with friendship. There was a defiant little smirk on her face when she pulled back.

Chapter 8

An odd thing about buying a property as is. You not only got the property, you owned everything that was left behind. I looked into the garage, of course, but it was full of what I thought was junk, so I left it alone for almost a year. Then I bought a motorcycle, and decided I was going to at least clean one bay so I could keep it out of the rain. It was after I had hauled four loads of trash away in my truck before things got interesting.

It was large, and covered with three layers of very old plastic, so old it split when I tried to remove it. Under the plastic was an antique sideboard, looking almost new. I regognized it instantly. My mother was a fanatic about antiques, and searched and bargained over the years until her dining room looked like it came right out of the roaring twenties. She had an oak table with two leaves big enough to seat twelve when fully extended, and twelve chairs to go with it. The china cabinet matched, sturdy oak with panes of glass so old they had a few wavy lines in them. All she needed for a complete set was the sideboard, and she was still trying to locate one when she died. They were sitting in my dining room now. This was the missing piece.

When I tried to pull it out to better inspect it, it wouldn't budge. I opened the top drawer and found it full of silverwear, and I mean a full silver service. The bottom drawer held serving bowls, gravy boats, ladles, that sort of thing. The two doors held a complete service for eight, matching the bowls. A fine floral pattern, they had to be worth a fortune. I got a few boxes, padded them with blankets, and layered them in, moving them slowly into the dining room. The sideboard was still heavy, and I had to wait for the girls to get home from shopping to help me. It took both to carry one end.

They immediately took over, cleaning the sideboard carefully, until the finish matched the rest of the pieces. They they gently cleaned the service and polished the silver. They also looked everything up, and the whole package was worth over nine thousand. I had to threaten to evict them to keep them quiet.

I got the bay cleaned out and got my motorcycle inside. Lindsey was almost quivering to help empty the other two bays, and Jen matched her enthusiasm. Jen and I had a rare Saturday off coming up, so we set that as a target. I woke to the smell of bacon and looked at the clock. 5:30! It was still dark outside. I stumbled into the kitchen to see both girls wearing old jeans, ratty tee shirts, their hair covered with bandanas. Both had work gloves hanging out of a back pocket.

I got good morning hugs and they practically rammed the food down my throat, they were in that much of a hurry. I opened the door to the second bay and gave them a lecture. "We are not going to hurry! Go gently. It might be nothing but junk. If there is something valuable in here, we don't want to ruin it by being impatient. Understand?" They nodded and promised.

We may as well have used a bulldozer for the first two thirds. Nothing but junk. Then it got interesting. Lindsey found a small vanity, marble topped, with matching chair, under a tarp. We slid them to the door gently, to get a better look. It was in very good condition, the mirror still intact. It had two drawers and I let them each open one. Lindsey went first, gently pulling it out. Inside was a matched set of brushes and combs, silver with ivory inlays, that looked brand new. The handles were embossed with initials, A J M, in flowery script. I knew instantly they belonged to Agnes. Her full name was Agnes Jane Merchant. I knew from one of their letters that her husband had sent them to her while he was still in service, and that they were Italian. There was also twelve assorted hat pins, tipped in ivory and stones. I knew we would be looking them up soon.

When we fully exhausted that drawer, Jen eased hers open. She pulled out a small jewelry box, frustrated because it was locked. I shined my light into the drawer, and there lay the key. I gave it to Jen, and her hands shook so bad it took four tries before she got it open. Both girls stared, wide eyed and speechless. A string of pearls. An elaborate broach, made of what I later discovered to be garnet. Pearl, ruby, and emerald rings, a garnet ring to march the broach, a diamond pendant on a fine gold chain, another necklace made of garnet beads. That was just what was in the top drawer.

She slid the second open, and both gasped. Two matching bracelets, gold and encrusted with small diamonds in twin rows. Tennis bracelets, I think they're called. They were very substantial and had to be worth a fortune. There were a few more slender bracelets, but if you had asked us a week later, we couldn't have told you what they were. I watched them, the hunger plain in their eyes. "Stay right here," I ordered, walking into the house and heading for the attic.

I kind of felt foolish, but I knew in my heart Agnes could hear me. "Agnes, I want to ask a favor. Would it offend you if I gave the girls a bracelet apiece? I know they would treasure them. They're good girls, Agnes. They work hard, don't complain, try to better themselves, are kind and loving to their friends and family. Both came from modest backgrounds, and could truly appreciate how special they are. Do I have your blessing?"

I stood for a second, and watched, stunned, as a couple of photos floated down from the rafters. The first was Agnes and her younger sister Elizabeth, standing in front of a Christmas tree, holding up their wrists, so you could see the bracelets. The other wasn't actually a photo, it was a receipt, noting the cost for the engraving inside the rings. "Sisters Forever". I realized two things then, that Agnes could really hear me and was watching over the house, and that she approved of my idea.

I walked back out to the garage. "Girls, I just talked it over with Agnes, and she says the bracelets belong to you. All she asks is that you read the inscriptions inside and honor them, and that you treasure them, and only way you ever turn them loose is when you give them to your firstborn daughters. Will you agree to her terms?"

First they were silent. When they tried to talk, all that came out were sobs. They had just calmed down when I showed them the inscriptions, and then they started again. No more work got done that day.

Sunday morning they had calmed down and surprised me, trying to give them back. "Don't you like them?"

"We love them, Dean. That's not the point. The point is we looked them up last night, and got a pretty accurate guess on what they would cost if we had to buy them. Never in our lifetime could we ever own something like that unless we married really, really well. You need to save these, pass on to your family." Linds was sniffling, holding out the bracelet like it weighed a ton. I looked at Jen.

"You feel the same?" She nodded, unable to talk.

"Well then, I guess that's settled then. You're right, the bracelets should stay in the family. That's presisely why Miss Agnes and I decided you should have them. I don't have a family, my only living relative is a grandmother that lives in another state. I love the old girl, but if I gave her something like this fights would break out as soon as she passed, and I couldn't deal with that. Since you obviously don't understand, I guess I need to get crayons and draw you a picture. First though, I have to talk to Miss Agnes."

They followed me into the hall and up to the portrait. I didn't recall her ever looking so haughty. "Miss Agnes, I'm afraid I have some bad news. The gift you gave in a loving gesture is being returned. I guess they really didn't deserve them after all." I paused, for dramatic effect, while the girls hung on every word. I pretended to listen, and sighed. "You're right, but then you always are. If you insist. I'll try one more time."

I walked into the living room, and sat on the couch. They seemed afraid as they gingerly sat beside me. "Girls, It seems you are a disappointment to Miss Agnes. She seemes to think you were a lot smarter than you obviously are. The reason I gave you those bracelets, you silly females, is because I thought you were my family. You two are the only thing that keep me centered. I can be down, or reliving a particularly bad memory, and one of you will hug me, or hold my hand, and I'm instantly better. You know without a doubt that I'm there for you every time you need me. I thought we had an emotional connection, but I guess refusing our gift proves otherwise. Miss Agnes is disappointed because she never got to spoil a daughter, she had five boys. She likes you here, almost as much as I do. She was going to treat you like the daughters she never had, and you insult her. It hurt her very badly."

They were both wailing now, wrapping me up while they shook. Of course I petted them, calmed them down. Once I did, I stood up and held out my hand. "Give me the bracelets. I'll probably donate them to some worthy cause, maybe whoever buys them will treat them with the love they deserve. Maybe some man will buy it for his daughters, to show how much he loves them, or give them to his wife, in appreciation for the decades of loyalty and support. Who knows? And the money the charity will get will go a long way towards helping them turn lives around, redeeming humans deserving of love and respect. Give."

The last was more of a demand than a request. They had steadily been drawing back, clutching the wrist the bracelets sat on, protectively. Lindsey finally worked up enough nerve to speak. "Is what you said true? Do you love us like family?"

"All the way down to the soles of your cute little feet, baby sister."

She fainted. Never saw that coming. I found out later she was from a broken home, a latch key kid that practically raised herself. There wasn't a lot of love going around, her mother was always working and was emotionally repressed, so there were few hugs or words of endearment. It made Linds wary of everyone, and she had a hard time trusting people. She told me later that there was only two people in the world that she ever told she loved them, me and Jen.

Jen tackled me after we got Lidsey revived, kissing me everywhere her lips made contact. She stood back and grinned. "I'm not your little sister. I've got something better in mind. And just to clarify, these bracelets are now family heirlooms, and will stay in the family as long as we live, at the very least. if I ever get a chance to pass this on to a daughter, I'm going to tell her a man I love very much, and who loved me back, gave it to me in trust, waiting for her to arrive."

"Me too," chimed in Lindsey. "Now, as your first official act of big brotherdom, I think you should take us out for breakfast."

I couldn't help laughing. Neither girl was over 105 pounds, but they ate like Olympic cyclists. They should have been wider than they were tall by now, but if anything, they looked thinner. If I looked at a piece of chocolate cake, I gained five pounds. Life isn't fair.

"All right, but before we go, you need to apologize to Miss Agnes. You hurt her feelings pretty bad when you refused her gifts. Explain to her you were just being silly girls, and how much you love the bracelets, and how honored you are to wear them. I'll go get dressed while you do. And that apology better be sincere, or she'll know."

They looked at me for a minute before going into the hall. I could hear them talking as I slipped on cargo shorts and a fresh shirt. When I came out, there was a lot of whispering going on. Excited whispering. They jumped when I spoke. "Ready, girls? What was all that whispering about?"

They shot out the door, yelling bye to Miss Agnes. I looked at her and grinned. "Guess we got our point across, old girl. See you later. We're finishing the second bay, and might start on the third if we have time. Wonder what treasures you've hidden for us?"

I swear to God, she looked like she was smirking when I left.

"What was all the whispering about?"

"Promise not to laugh at us?"

"No, but I promise to take you seriously."

There was a little pause. "Tell us the truth. Do you believe Miss Agnes can see us, that she understands who we are and why we're living there?"

Of course, I answered a question with a question, something I've always found annoying. "Do you think she is?"

Jen spoke out, her voice firm. "I believe in her. She looked so severe this morning, but after what you told us, we did go out and apologize to her. We were sincere, especially Linds. We both felt it. Something brushed both our cheeks, and it felt like a kiss. And when we looked up again, SHE WAS SMILING!"

Lindsey jumped in. "Jen's right. We both felt it. And our bracelets got warm, in a gentle way, for lack of better words. I think your house is haunted."

'Well if it is, it's probably by the nicest ghost I've ever heard of. However, I checked up on her, and according to family documents and letters, she could be very unforgiving if she felt wronged. Best stay on her good side. Now, let's eat."

We went into the nice buffet and the girls gorged. I'm ashamed to say I probably ate too much as well. The girls had had a very emotional twenty-four hours, so it was only natural that the force of gravity pulled them down onto the large sofa, until they were snuggled together, asleep. Lindsey was even snoring a little. I sat in the big overstuffed rocker I favored, and watched them sleep for a bit. I was restless, and something made me get up and roam the house, ending up in front of Miss Agnes. I didn't speak out loud, but I knew she could hear me.

"I wish I'd gotten a chance to meet you, Miss Agnes. I've read everything I could find on you, you know. I know yours was the will that held the family together when the Great Depression hit. You were what, 45 then? And you were a woman in a definitely man's world. But you made them listen, made them move your investments from stocks to jewels and precious metals, and you came out smelling like a rose, your family intact, even wealthier that you were when it started. Your husband must have been proud. I've read a few things about him, Miss Agnes, from all accounts he was a very impressive man. He would have to have been, to win your hand, The stories I've read say courting you was not a pursuit for the faint of heart. I need to thank you for what you did for the girls. I'd expect a lot more conversations with them from time to time, and I'll probably seek you out for advice myself, especially when it comes to women. I doubt I'll ever find anyone, now. Too old and messed up, I guess."

A noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a laugh came out of the vents. I needed to get that checked.

The girls woke and we spent the rest of the day finishing the second bay. We found a few things I knew belonged in the house, an ornate coatrack with a mirror, a couple of end tables, and a high backed sofa covered in horsehair. I decided on the spot to have it restored. We saved the last bay until we had another Saturday off.

Chapter 9

We worked for a couple of months before we had another encounter with a homeless person. Out of the blue, Shaggy came up to us, smiling. We were two blocks from where we had first encountered him. He looked different, somehow. He noticed me looking him over and grinned. "Meeting you, talking about my mother, it gave me a wakeup call. Believe it or not, Mom is still alive. She's eighty-four and resides in an assisted living complex, in her own small apartment. It took me three hours by bus, but I went to see her, the first time we had laid eyes on each other in sixteen years. She cried so hard the attendants wanted me to leave, but she stopped them.

"I thought you were dead," were the first words out of her mouth. We talked for three hours, and enjoyed a meal together. She begged me to call her and asked me to give her my phone, so she could put the number in. I hadn't had a phone in ten years, so I lied, and told her I'd left it home, and wrote her number down. I came back here, cleaned up a little, ended up working as a day laborer about three days a week, more when I can get it. I took my first day's pay and got a cheap cell phone. She was the only one I've called. We talk every other day. Her attendant told me one day it had taken years off her, that now she's animated and takes an interest in things. She told me Mom bragged on me! Me!