�You like old things?� she had asked somewhat suggestively, and he tried to keep his eagerness from showing even a trace. �Sure I do,� he said. This could be a good one. She had some good stuff, and she knew it, but these old women never kept current with prices. They were embarrassed to ask for a thousand dollars when current auction prices were ten times as much. They quoted offers from other dealers, sums they marveled at, but amounts which he knew to be utter rip-offs.
She looked him up and down. �There is an item that may be of interest to you, but it is in the attic. You�re not afraid of stairs I presume?� He waited to follow behind her but she hesitated. �A gentleman never follows a lady on the stairway,� she said with prim determination. He led the way to the second floor and turned to the right. �Not so fast. It�s this door here. � The passage was narrow and the stairs seemed to be at irregular levels.
Once at the top he saw how the room opened into a high-ceilinged great room, meeting at a point 10 feet above their heads. �Much of what we put up here was my aunt�s. She died, oh, 70 years ago now. My father just left it up here and then my sister and I--- we got the house in 69, and now it�s just me. I worked in New York you know.�
�No, I didn�t know that,� he said.
�Oh yes. Came home to help with the house and stayed.� You look around,� she said, indicating her aunt�s furniture and things. �That�s all been sitting up her since 1935. But these trunks are mine.�
He saw an Art Deco vanity on a rounded dresser with curved corners and a pale, grooved veneer. He opened the drawer of a bedside table and saw what looked like a Colonial-era silver comb and matching mirror. �All her things are still in them. The desk is over there. It has her papers. She frequently corresponded with Eleanor Roosevelt, ha, but Eleanor corresponded frequently with everybody. You do know who that is, don�t you? � He laughed, �Eleanor? Sure I do. I just finished Goodwin�s biography of FDR.� He instantly regretted saying it. It sounded arrogant, and maybe, to a careful listener it implied special interest in the 1930�s and possibly in items dating to that period. �But I don�t remember much of it,� he lied. �I was really busy when I was reading it.� The woman didn�t seem to notice.
�Oh you like books? She was quite a reader. Knew Hemingway too. But she used to say that she never wrote to him--he did all the writing to her. She was quite a beauty. The item is in here, move the light closer,� she said, and began going through a box of photos.
He glanced to the rear of the attic and saw a large wardrobe, presumably full of clothes dating from the early 1930�s. A bookcase and a number of wooden boxes were stacked against the wall. A table and four chairs were piled high with more boxes. �Here,� she said, and thrust a small box into his hand. He held the flashlight between his chin and chest. The box contained photos, probably from the early 1950�s by the look of the paper, he thought. He looked through them.
In the first photo, a man and a young woman, both naked, were kissing. He looked at her. �Is this what you wanted me to see?� he asked. She nodded. �Are you the woman?�
�Yes, I was nineteen. Go on, you may as well see the rest,� she said, as if the idea to come to the attic was not hers and she was indulging someone else�s request. Subsequent photos showed the couple becoming more intimate as the woman worked her way down to the man�s waist. There were more, of an increasingly erotic nature but he handed the rest back to her.
�I�m sorry,� he said. �You---think I would know the---I---I don�t know what to say.� He shrugged his shoulders and sputtered a few more apologetic syllables.
The woman paused for a long time waiting for him to say something. �I thought that perhaps�you would know if there is a value to these,� she said.
�Well---sure. I mean, uh, there is a value to everything,� he said nervously. �I mean, what�uh� why is it that you thought I would know? I mean, I�m sure there is but I wouldn�t be the one to know!�
She stared at him then abruptly stuffed the photos back into the box. He could see her mouth was drawn tight. His flustered reaction had made her embarrassed and angry. �All young people are sexual these days! They�re sexual!� she hissed. She glared at him uncomfortably. �I had to leave here! Do you understand me? I couldn�t stay here for a single minute! I had to go to New York! Well I�m glad I went! Do you see? I�m glad!� Then after a breath she regained her composure and quietly said �Please go back down stairs.�
�Wait. I�m sorry, but hold on a minute. There�s other stuff here that is worth money---your aunt�s things. They�re in perfect condition. It all matches, the table and chairs, the dresser and bedside tables. They�re not priceless, but that�s what�s worth money!�
�Well that�s nothing I know about. Now please leave!� She didn�t look at him and had begun to descend the stairs..
�But I do! Look, you have everything of hers. Here is the money,� he said, pleading to be believed. �Her correspondence alone!�.
�So I�ve been told,� she said over her shoulder. �But I have to ask you to come down now and then please leave!�
He took another look around. The flashlight reflected off Art Deco objects from the smooth, confident past. There were probably first editions among the books and maybe other silver items in the woman�s drawers and tables. And in the desk�perhaps undiscovered letters from Eleanor Roosevelt and Ernest Hemmingway? He sputtered a few final syllables. �Bu� I ma�I mean you�got�uh wai---� He looked at the desk and then the bookcase and the set of dining room chairs, all streamlined and modern. �They�re worth money�� he said.
Try another?