A couple of weeks later on a sunny Saturday morning,
the Henrys watched the movers carry their belongings into their new home.
"Where do you want these boxes marked Sam's
books," asked a burly man wearing a gray jacket with "Mark's Moving"
in red-embroidered letters across the back.
"Those go in my room over there," pointed
Sam to his bedroom. "Put them
anywhere in there." The mover
lumbered across the living room to the front bedroom.
Two other movers followed behind him carrying Sam's
old blue-painted desk. Since his bedroom
faced the park across the street, he asked them to put it in front of the
window. A perfect place with plenty of
light for doing homework and watching squirrels race around the park.
Heading to the kitchen, Sam ran into Mrs. Steers who
had magically appeared from nowhere.
"Oh, excuse me," said Sam startled by
her. "I didn't see you come
in."
"Sorry, Sam," she said. "I shouldn't have come in
unannounced. I came through the front
door instead of the laundry room."
Sweaty and flushed from moving boxes, Emily came into
the kitchen. "Oh hello, Mrs.
Steers. I didn't hear you come in. I
would offer you something to drink, but who knows where the glasses are."
"Oh, don't worry," said Mrs. Steers. "I wanted to make sure all was
well. I could hardly wait for your
arrival. It's nice to have good tenants
again."
One of the burly movers pushed past them, plopped a
box “marked kitchen” onto the floor, and pushed past again.
"What do you think of the furniture?" said
Mrs. Steers. "I hope the dining
table and chairs will be adequate. Hmmm…
I don't see the bookcases."
"Sam claimed those. He drug those off into his bedroom," winked
Emily. "He couldn't resist the
idea of creating his own library and finally being able to organize his books."
"Good to
hear. Well, I'll leave you to your
unpacking," said Mrs. Steers. "Oh,
I almost forgot the real reason I came up.
I brought you some food and snacks." This time, she left through the laundry room.
Sam caught a glimpse of a dark hallway where
piles of books lined the walls. He heard
the door’s lock click.
Sam liked Mrs. Steers. Even more, she had lots of
books. She had told them little about
herself, remaining reserved, slightly tight-lipped, and somewhat introverted. Mrs. Steers was proving to be a mystery.
All they really knew about her was she wrote detailed
historical fiction and retired as the curator at the local historical
society. Emily had talked with Mrs.
Steers about her books. Sam had seen them because his mom had checked one out
about the early years of the reign of Czar Nicholas the Second and his
family. Mrs. Steers' husband, Albert, had
left her financially comfortable, which maybe explained the cheap rent. Sam figured she wanted the company more than
the money. Whatever the reason, the
apartment was perfect.
The next day, Sam stood in the doorway to his new
bedroom, looked at all the boxes, and began to think. To his right was the wall
where on the other side was the laundry room. Straight forward was a shallow
built-in closet. To the left were the two large windows that overlooked the
street and the park. The windows were clean. The plain heavy curtains hung
neatly. Sunbeams hit the polished floor between the cardboard boxes.
Between the wall and his bed, Sam placed a
light-weight narrow green-painted set of shelves. The paint was worn in places
and peeled revealing darkened wood underneath, but Sam didn't care.
Sam dragged two boxes marked "Sam's books" next to the
bed and opened them. He was greeted by Harry Potter and the
Philosopher's Stone and a graphic novel version of Twenty-thousand
Leagues Under the Sea. Next came different illustrated versions of A
Christmas Carol, then The House with the Clock in Its Walls by John
Bellairs. Sam laid them on his bed so he could see the spines on the bed and
put them in alphabetical order.
Sam stopped and had to
organize the six titles for Bellairs. "Carroll. Dickens. Jackson."
Sam looked at the cover of The Haunting of Hill House, a gift from his Grandpa
Henry. A house standing alone among some trees. This book had kept him up a
couple of nights after he first read it.
"Lewis. Milne. Poe. Rowling." Another
stopping point to make sure the Potter series was in proper order.
"Tolkien. Verne. And last Mr. Wells." The cover of The Time Machine
was embossed in gold letters, a nice new edition hardback of one of his
favorite. Classics mixed with the new. All of Sam's favorites.
With his books in order, one by one, Sam put them on
the shelves. He stood back and admired his work. Sam turned and glanced out the
window to see Mrs. Steers coming up the sidewalk. A dark- complected guy, at
least six feet tall, walked beside her carrying two paper grocery bags. Sam had
never seen such a towering man. He was dressed in an grey heavy coat that hung
to his knees and wore a Greek fisherman's hat. They made their way up the walk
to the house and disappeared under the porch roof.
Sam turned his attention to the desk and the last box
to unpack. He opened the box and looked at the hodge-podge of stuff.
"This is going to take a while," said Sam.
An hour later, books, desk, and clothes all neatly in their new places, Sam sat
down on his bed, ready for a nap in his new bedroom.
Two hours later,
Emily woke him for dinner.
No comments:
Post a Comment