It's all her fault. |
“The man reached out to shake my hand. ‘I’m Edgar Heiskell the Third. What part of the house did you say this came from?’ “‘The attic,’ I told him. “‘Well, this is probably going to take a while, my grandpa fitted this all by hand. I might even have to replace part of the frame in order to get the glass out.’ I told him I was in no hurry, that I had plenty to keep me busy. “He smiled and said, ‘I bet. That old house sat empty for quite some time. It will be nice to see it back to its glory again.’ “‘I’m hoping for that myself,’ I said, ‘it’s just going to take some time.’ “We took the window out of the back of the truck and carried it into the shop. I noticed he had stacks of windows, window parts, panes of glass and such sitting around. “I said to him, ‘You look pretty busy yourself.’ “‘Yeah, I have quite a few repairs needing my attention,’ he said. ‘That’s why my grandpa put the shop way over here near the border of three townships, We get business from all three, we’re the only shop like this around these parts.’ He set the window down flat on the countertop. ‘My son helps me when he gets out of school.’ “I told him again, ‘There’s no hurry on this at all.’ “He smiled and ran a hand over the wooden window frame. ‘I’d like to show my dad this. He’s kind of semi-retired and comes in once in a while or if I have too much to handle, he helps out. He will mind the store when I’m out putting windows in for people or my wife will. He’ll get a kick out of this, seeing his dad’s handiwork and all. As far as I know he may have helped him back then.’ “We said our goodbyes and I left. As I got back into town I figured I should have a look around and let some of the locals know who I was and why I was there. I wandered around for a while then headed back to the house. When I got there, I opened the garage, mixed some spackling compound in a bucket, then headed back upstairs to start working. “That was one of the best things about that job, I got paid eight hours whether I worked them all at once or split it up. I did work the eight one way or another. I took my spackling, putty knives, and sandpaper into the master bedroom, then went back downstairs for dropcloths and a ladder. Starting on the wall behind where the bed was at one time, I thought to myself, It’s funny how when you take down a picture or move a piece of furniture, you can still see the traces of what was there. I patched holes where pictures had hung, a few cracks around the windows, and the molding that went around the entire ceiling. Then I removed the switch and plug plates, scraped the loose paint from the window frames, and sanded the areas that needed it. “After I had the room completely ready for painting, I took all of my equipment into the next bedroom. Again I started patching holes from pictures and such, stopping every now and then, listening to hear if anything was about. Nothing, that’s a good sign. No haint. “I noticed my spackling was running low but thought I had just enough to finish that room. I made a few more trips around the room, looking for anyplace I might have missed. I was pleased with myself. I had it all done except for sanding and doing the windows. It was getting late, so I headed back over to the garage with my bucket and tools so I could get everything cleaned and ready for the next day. I cleaned my stuff up and put everything away, then headed back over to the house to set my plan in motion. “I went from room to room getting each one ready, then headed back out. It was five thirty in the afternoon. I figured I would head to town where I had seen a restaurant that stayed open ‘til ten and have a sit-down dinner, so I got myself cleaned up to go to town. I went out and got in the truck, looked up at the house, smiled, and drove off. “Boy-howdy, that was the best dinner I had had in a long time. I was stuffed. I sat there and had two more cups of coffee, then looked at the time, it was almost eight. “It was time to go back and see if my plan would work or not.“ ...To be continued... |