Page 42 of Pax

While they disappeared to get Deanna’s things, the women got to work on the cottage. Like all the others, it was beautifully constructed and gorgeous on the inside. Albeit extremely manly.

“He does like the color brown, doesn’t he,” she smirked.

“That’s why he said do what you want to it. I love my son, but he has zero style when it comes to a home. He’s always been more concerned about functionality than comfort and aesthetics.”

“I like a lot of the things he has here,” said Deanna, looking around. “It’s just that all these big, dark pieces are a bit depressing after a while. I don’t want to do anything with a lot of flowers or anything, just lighten it all up.”

“I have a few pieces in the attic you need to see,” said Claudette. They walked to the big house and up the two flights of stairs to the massive attic space.

Claudette wasn’t lying. There were dozens of dressers, side tables, a few dining tables, dozens of dining room chairs, and numerous other pieces.

“This is all so beautiful,” she gasped. “Are you certain about this, Claudette?”

“Honey, it’s all gathering dust and will be wasted away if we don’t use it. Mama and Pops didn’t throw anything away. If they changed their style, they simply saved this. They were the first to understand that everything old becomes new again.”

“This is just exquisite,” said Annie, running her hand over a massive sofa table.

“They had five of those at one time, but I think they’ve let others on the property take them. You should take that one,” smiled Claudette.

“Oh! The books! Look at the hundreds of books in those bins!” said Deanna excitedly.

“Mama does love her books,” laughed Claudette. “The library is a favorite hideaway for a lot of our family. She had all those sealed so they wouldn’t get mildew or dry out. You’re welcome to place them on any shelf in your home.”

Deanna looked around the room and spotted several eight-foot bookshelves. She inspected them more closely, running her hands over the beautiful wood.

“I think if we used these against the main wall, I could fill them with books and photographs, little things that we’ve both collected over the years. Then the dark wood won’t feel so dark, and I’d be okay to use lighter fabrics on the chairs and sofa.”

“I love that idea,” smiled Annie. “Come with me, and we’ll take a look at some fabrics and see what we can get here quickly.”

While Annie, Alice, Deanna, and a few others were seated on the porch of the cottage looking through new ideas, Ben, Carl, and Adam stacked her boxes inside the living room.

“Last one,” said Carl.

“Smallest one, asshole,” frowned Adam.

“Wait,” said Deanna. “I don’t recognize that box.”

“It’s got your name on it, honey,” said Ben. She stood, looking at the box, and touched her hands across the writing.

“That’s my father’s writing.” She looked up at Carl, and he stared at her.

“What do you want to do? Would you like me to open it?” She stepped back and then looked up at Carl again.

“Do you mind? I mean, just open it and see what’s in there. It must have been one of the boxes in my hall closet that I brought from their home after they were shot.” She took a seat in the rocker once again, seated on the edge in order to see inside the box. Carl took his knife and opened the taped seal, pulling back the folds of the box. He stared at it, then up at Deanna.

“Wh-what is it?” she asked.

“Dee, you’re rich, honey,” he said, showing her the stacks of cash. She shook her head, looking at the stacks of neatly aligned cash. There were tens, twenties, fifties, and hundred-dollar bills.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “That can’t be for me.”

“Here,” he said, handing her a small card. “It’s for you.”

She took the note and opened the card. It was small, not even enough space to write a full letter. Just a simple cardstock notecard.

“Deanna, your mother and I saved this for you. All the money we would have used for silly vacations or new cars. It’s yours. Now, go live and enjoy your life.” She stared at those around her, everyone grinning except Annie, who knew the young woman was probably hurting. “Go enjoy my life? What the hell does that mean? I was enjoying my life when they were alive! Why would they hide all of this from me? Why scrimp and save, depriving themselves and me of things we wanted to do? Why?”

“Because you were their only baby,” said Claudette. “That’s a powerful thing, my love, to be an only child. Your parents had all their hopes, dreams, and fears tied up in you. And their expectations. I know you don’t understand what they did, the hiding of things from you, but I expect it was to protect you and ensure that you could live on with the life you deserved.”

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