“She wouldn’t,” he said. “I mean . . . I don’t think she would do that.”
I didn’t know what to think. “Maybe we should put the rest of the stuff back in the safe for now? Just in case we need it?”
“Yeah,” he said, ruffling his hair again.
“I’ll look around,” I assured him. “Maybe it just fell off the table or something.” I doubted this could have happened, but also didn’t insist that either his ex was a thief in addition to being a less-than-delightful houseguest or that our ghosts liked shiny objects.
The window replacement was beginning today, and the workmen arrived soon after Shelly had departed, and by the time Michael had taken Daniel to school and headed off to work, the house was abuzz with activity, so much so that I felt comfortable going up to the attic alone to sort through the letters and pictures there. I wanted to see if I could get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the land deed. If there was a record showing the land had been sold to a Tanner, why did the deed to the land say Tucker?
It was like a stroll through history, pulling open newspaper clippings and flipping through ancient photos. The headlines were interesting, though I didn’t have a lot of historical context for most:
PROHIBITION! Jan. 16, 1919 Momentous Day in World’s History
Mrs. Ross Takes Office - First Female Governor in US - 1925
Scopes Found Guilty of Teaching Evolution - 1925
There were stacks of papers, many of them discussing banal news of the day, but others sporting headlines that had me remembering high school history:
Herbert Hoover Elected! 1930
U.S. Prohibition Ends - Uncertainty Faces Nation - 1933
I spent the better part of the day upstairs, lost in my exploration through history. There was no rhyme or reason I could find as to why certain events seemed to warrant the keeping of the front page while others did not, but reading about each event felt like peering through a time machine. And when the foreman’s voice rang through the house in late afternoon, letting me know they were heading out for the day, it was like being awakened from a strange nap rife with odd and dusty dreams.
I went downstairs to see the workmen off, but before they left, the foreman asked about the garage. “Are we replacing those windows too?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “Only, we don’t have a key.”
He shook his head. “If we’re replacing windows, shouldn’t matter. We can do it from the outside as easily as inside on these old buildings.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling suddenly a little less secure than I had before. “Well, okay then.”
The total cost to replace all the windows in the house with energy efficient double-paned glass was enormous, but Michael and I had agreed it was important if anyone ever planned to actually live in the house again. And since our six months would take us right through a cold Singletree winter, it would be good for us, too.
“We’ll get the rest done by mid-week,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, and watched the trucks pull out of the driveway as the sun began to set.
I shivered, heading back into the big house alone. With no one else around, I was reminded that the place was most likely haunted, and I checked my watch, hoping Michael might be home sooner rather than later. Before I could become too worried, I heard Michael’s truck rumbling up the driveway.
Daniel, Michael and I spent the weekend mostly outside, pulling weeds in the yard, while the window crew continued working on the upper levels of the house.
The guys didn’t work Sunday, but they were back bright and early on Monday morning. I’d seen Michael off to the store, and had resumed my weed-pulling out in the yard. My mother had already called to give me an earful about missing Sunday dinner when a voice came floating through the greenery about mid-day. “Ma’am?”
“Yes?” I pushed my hair out of my face and pulled off my gloves, going to meet the foreman in the middle of the yard near the garage.
“There’s a tarp in there over the car. You okay with us going ahead with the work? That oughta keep the dust off it.”
I glanced toward the garage, where the men had removed the front window. I knew there was a car in there, but I was imagining it was as old and dusty already as the rest of the house. “Probably doesn’t matter,” I said. “I mean, a little dust won’t hurt it, right?
The man looked weirdly uncertain. “I mean, I guess not. Some people are particular about their cars.”
“Well, don’t like, drop a brick on it or anything, right?” I laughed. “And could you leave the door unlocked when you’re done in there?”
“Leave it unlocked?” He looked surprised by this request, and I thought I’d told him we didn’t have the key, but I figured he had bigger things on his mind.
“Yes please,” I said.
“Sure thing.” He walked away, shaking his head, like I was the silliest client he’d had in a while.
Whatever. I went back to the never-ending task of pulling the overgrowth from the yard.
When the contractors finished the windows, I told Michael and Daniel that the garage was finally unlocked and we went out there together. What lay inside was something none of us had expected. Well, none of us, except maybe Daniel.
We pushed open the creaky door and stood inside, letting our eyes adjust to the dark interior. In the middle of the space sat a car, covered entirely in a shredded tarp. In the space where the tarp had been eaten or just aged away, hints of what lay beneath peeked through. Shiny red paint gleamed in contrast to the dark colorless space around it.
“What is this?” Michael asked, reaching toward one of the shiny patches as Daniel practically bounced in excitement.
“Let’s find out,” I suggested.
Together, we slid the old tarp off the car.
“A Corvette!” he practically screamed when the car beneath was revealed.
There, sitting in the middle of the ancient garage, a gorgeous older model sports car. I would never have identified it on my own, but evidently Daniel knew his vintage ‘vettes.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, his voice suddenly reverent. “Dad, it’s a 1958 Roadster.”
“Language,” Michael said, but his tone was so distracted by the bright red car in front of us that I was surprised he’d managed to remember his parental duties at all.
“This is amazing,” I said. It was swoopy and cool, and I suddenly understood why the contractor had looked at me like I was crazy when I’d told him not to drop a brick on it. This was not what I’d envisioned sitting out in the garage.
“This is amazing,” Daniel said, running a hand gently over the angled fender. “This thing is a collector’s item. Super old.”
Compared to the rest of the house, this was a relatively young antique, but Daniel’s perspective was probably different than mine, considering he was twelve.
“Dad, can we drive it?”
Michael looked unsure. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on!” Daniel sounded very much his age as he prepped himself for a tween-style tantrum.