Drama Dolls: A Novel: [Dark, Suspenseful, Fast-paced, Exhilarating] (9 page)

A vacation photo was in the guest bedroom. A smiling couple in the center. The assistant grabbed the photo and shoved it into a dresser drawer. Scanning the bedroom one last time, she fluffed the pillows on the bed. Nodding her head, the assistant smiled in approval. Before leaving, the assistant, she closed the room’s door. This was her signal that the room was ready for viewing.

The house had been on the market through spring and summer. Price declines indicated by the REDUCED PRICE sign in the front yard. Overgrown grass being cut sporadically. Neighborhood kids’ candy wrappers lost in the lawn. A few cigarette butts were scattered on the sidewalk. There were fast food cups filled with rain water. A cellophane burger wrapper crumpled into a ball. Any piece of litter from drivers passing by called the yard home.

Royal Wedding Hostas ran up the staircase of the front steps. Weeds in between waiting to be pulled. Tulips were in the flower bed in front of the banister. Peppered in the flower arrangement were Hosta White Feathers. More weeds.

The realtor gave the nickel and dime tour, allowing William, Jeffrey, and Lena to self-guide and familiarize themselves with the nuances of the Queen Anne. There were high ceilings, ornate woodwork, and a brick fireplace that stood out upon entering.

“Any kids?” Jane said. The realtor asked because of all the space the house offered. She could determine how serious a buyer was by discovery questions.

Lena, her arm through Jeffrey’s, shook her head. Smiling, she said, “Nope. Just me and my husband.”

Continuing with her line of questioning, the realtor, she said, “This is a lot of room for just the two of you.” A serious tone, she said, “Do you plan on having children?” Observing their reactions was something Jane did with all her showings.

Admiring the decorative staircase from afar, each spindle carved with the same design, Lena just shook her head. Smiling, leading Jeffrey through the old house, she was pulling him closer as she turned each corner.

“This is sooo pretty,” she said. Turning to address her proposed husband, Lena said, “Don’t you think?” The accidental bride rubbed her hand up and down Jeffrey’s arm. Playing the part, she said, “Honey?”

Jeffrey, he nodded, surveying the place with each glance.

The library off the living room was a quaint sitting and reading area. Bookshelves up and down the walls, they covered the mass of the wall space, giving new owners plenty of room for Dickens, Poe, and Twain classics. Built-in shelves in the walls were adjacent to the dining room. There were custom designed bookstands around the perimeter.

One large bay window covered the wall that joined the home’s interior and exterior. A vintage desk with curved wood, detailed to impress admirers, was in front of the window. Facing outdoors, the drawer hardware was shiny brass. Every knob was exactly the same.

Lena, her mouth dropping open, pulled out a drawer. A dusting of wood fell to the hardwood. “How gorgeous,” she said, turning to Jeffrey. “This would make a great office desk.”

Outside the window was an empty field of grass. Opposite the field was another small neighborhood of old homes. Houses from a different era. Just above the roofs of the antique dwellings was a tree line.

Nudging the groom in the elbow, getting his attention, Lena said, “Sitting in front of the window as you get your work done.”

Agreeing without ever taking a look, Jeffrey said, “Yes, dear.” His eyes were past the point of burning. Glossy and empty, Jeffrey blinked repeatedly. Getting his tenth wind was his saving grace for looking interested.

“Oh?” the realtor said. “What type of work are you in?” The real estate agent followed Jeffrey with her eyes as he paced around the room.

“My husband acquires valuables. Mainly jewelry,” Lena said.

Engaged, wanting to keep the communication moving, the realtor said, “Oh. Well, the owners were big fans of antiques. This desk actually came from Europe.”

“Oooh. Europe. Did you hear that, honey?”

Appraising the desk, the baroque corners caught Jeffrey’s attention. Falling in and out of a fog, he said, “
Were
fans?”

Dishing out a disconcerted look to Lena, the realtor said, “There’s only one owner now.”

Twirling toward the dining area, Lena stopped short. “Oh my God!” Her voice, becoming higher with each syllable, ended in a squeal. Staring her in the face was a wooden table the size of a compact car. “Jeffrey, look at the dining room table.” Her stomach sucking in, her chest out, a stationary smile with her mouth open, Lena was beside herself.

The realtor grinned. “Everyone who has looked at the house has had the same reaction.”

Curious, Lena said, “How many people have come through?”

Jane placed her finger on her squeezed lips. Eyes closed together, eyebrows furrowing, she said, “There’s been a good amount. Four, maybe?”

Jeffrey acknowledged the realtor and then continued to scope out the house.

The table’s fringe was handcrafted. Rounded slits along the edges. There was elaborate detail running along the border in between the slits. The sturdy tree trunks for legs looked like upside down bowling pins with smooth, flat bottoms. Thin ankles expanding into massive thighs that were screwed in forcefully into the bottom of the table’s top. Each chair matching the table’s hand-cut pattern, the seating could accommodate a fielded baseball team with designated hitter.

Enthralled with the owner’s taste, Jeffrey said, “Impressive.”

Lena, repeating the information to Jeffrey, said, “Did you hear that? Four people have already looked at the house.” She searched for a response but got nothing.

“This is a beautiful home,” the realtor said. “It won’t be on the market too long.”

Along the wall was a buffet. A similar design to the table, all the dining room furniture looked like it came in a set. Complementing the hardwood floor, the cheerful deep red walls ran the course of the dining area. This was the only room on the main floor that was not painted a creamy yellow.

“Nice color,” Jeffrey said.

His inner voice, salivating at the furniture, it had an emotional erection.

Noise above them, footsteps moving across the ceiling, caused Jeffrey to look up. The thumping triggered the crystal chandelier to shake. Made from a variety of different crystals, the light fixture was a nice addition to the room. Manufactured from glass and crystal prisms, any light that struck the chandelier was both reflected and refracted. “Imagine the dinner parties we could have,” Lena said. She was very convincing, almost forgetting the reason for their desire to view.

Open houses equaled open doors. Scoping out upcoming targets to burgle became easy. This time of year made selling homes favorable. From the length of the lawn, Jeffrey knew the owner wasn’t around much. The owner wasn’t invested anymore.

A built-in china cabinet was directly across the buffet. Inside, the cabinet was filled with Cambridge Rose Point crystal and glassware. Unique pieces such as vases, relish dishes, French dressing bottles, they were all etched with the Rose Point design. There were cruet sets, candy boxes, and comports, enough crystal to astound any guest.

Lena stood in awe of the collection of antique dinnerware. “I can’t believe how beautiful this stuff is,” she said. “I couldn’t even imagine serving food with these pieces.”

“As I said, the owners were very much into collecting,” Jane said. Gaining Jeffrey’s attention, she said, “Are you a collector as well?”

“I guess you could say that,” Jeffrey said.

Rejoining Jeffrey, grabbing his hand, Lena said, “Jeffrey knows a lot about antiques. Don’t you honey?”

Footsteps up above moved across the ceiling. The swinging chandelier starting up again.

“Are you familiar with these pieces?” the realtor said.

Jeffrey, recalling the history of the Cambridge Glass company, said, “Although the Cambridge Class company was around since the early nineteen hundreds, the Rose Point etching didn’t come into production until nineteen-thirty.”

Leaning into the glass, noting the valuable crystal, Jeffrey said that Rose Point was so extraordinary because it succeeded during the Great Depression. “Think about that for a second,” Jeffrey said. On a roll, tiredness not even an issue, he said, “The stock market crashed in October nineteen-twenty-nine. Black Tuesday. The market lost fourteen billion dollars that day alone.”

Confidence rising, he said, “Imagine how much confidence you have in your product that you roll out a line of crystal, of all things.”

Fascinated by the knowledge Jeffrey had stored in his brain, Jane and Lena glanced at one another.

The voice of impressive reason, it said, “Interesting.”

“May I?” Jeffrey said. The realtor nodding, he opened the china hutch and pulled out a crystal glass.

The glassware was just as dazzling. Water goblets for an entire dinner party, some were clear while others were pressed glasses. “Feel how thin this is,” Jeffrey said.

Extending her arm out, Lena carefully rubbed her fingers around the perimeter. Tracing her thumb around the glass’s outside, she said, “It even feels expensive.”

“Each piece of glass was priced at around twenty dollars. Some of the dishes could draw up to three hundred,” Jeffrey said.

Hearing the prices, Lena quickly withdrew her fingers from the crystal.

Jeffrey returned the glass to the cabinet’s shelf and closed the door.

Lined up against the walls in each room were boxes packed for moving. Different sized ones, marked with a permanent marker to distinguish rooms. Some read FRAGILE – DISHES. Others indicated clothing, shoes, and things to donate. The tape coming off the ends, curling into each other, you could tell that the cartons had been sitting for a while.

Walking toward the swinging door that separated the dining room from the kitchen, the realtor stalled. Her hand on the door, ready to push, building to suspense, she said, “I know you loved the glassware but are you ready to see the kitchen?”

Pushing open the wooden door, the realtor said, “I give you the modern kitchen for the Victorian home.”

The remodeled kitchen, modernized for mass appeal, drove Lena into a state of excitement. A Wolf oven with six burners, stainless steel exterior, it had a temperature max of five hundred degrees. “This is a commercial oven designed for residential use,” Jane said. “So, it’s kind of like what you see in the restaurants but not as powerful.”

Placed in the middle of the longest wall, the setup was ideal for cooking. Counter space extending on each side, a stand up pantry, and in the center, there was an island by itself, a prep station with its own faucet and sink.

Glass cabinets above the counters, which ran the course of two walls, they were filled with wine tumblers, designer plates, and glasses that were displayed for guests to see.

Shaking her head, her heartbeat in a tizzy, Lena said, “Wow. Everything is displayed so nicely.” Flabbergasted and overwhelmed, she said, “They really did like to entertain.”

In the corner near the pantry was an Ascend commercial refrigerator. Stainless steel to match the oven, the fridge had four bays, three for refrigeration and one for freezing. On the top of the fridge-freezer were distinct digital meters for controlling the food’s temperature.

Kitchen walls made of Venetian plaster were emphasized with decorative scratch marks to give a soft intonation and informal feel. The wall colors alternated from a burnt orange to an aureolin yellow. “It looks like something you’d find in an Italian villa,” Lena said. Captivated by the room, Lena almost fainted. Fanning herself with her hand, she said, “Is it hot in here?”

“Lovely, isn’t it?” the real estate agent said.

“Beautiful,” Jeffrey said. “Totally.”

In the alcove, a separate nook that was an extension of the kitchen, was a powder room.

Lena, highly emotional, she said, “Baby, there’s a bathroom in here too.” Walking in, the half-bath complemented the kitchen’s design. A glass chandelier matching the kitchen’s lighting, the powder room had a European styled sink and vanity combo. “What a beautiful place,” Lena said. Feeling the wall with her palm, she said, “What color is this?”

Leaning in close, the realtor said, “I think it’s salmon.”

Standing in front of the staircase to the second floor, William appeared suddenly, having broken away when the group first entered. The commission-based salesperson smiled. “What do you think?”

A glazed expression, William said, “It’s nice.”

Jane, addressing her clients, said, “Any questions so far?”

Lena stood with a blank stare. Jeffrey was staring up the staircase. And William, he was sweating.

Spinning toward the staircase, looking upward to the second story, the realtor said, “Well, let’s see the upstairs.”

In a row, the train of people paraded up the flight of steps. Combined, the first and second floor were almost the height of three normal stories. Walking up, their necks were falling back in order to see the ceiling. Separating the landing where the stairs turned sharply right was a vertical window with stained glass. The way the sun hit the glass made for a colorful kaleidoscope.

“This is so breathtaking,” Lena said. She stood for a second to bask in the rainbow of colors shining on her. Closing her eyes, taking in the sun that was filtering through, a smile formed on her face.