The Masters’ Yard Sale

© Copyright 2010 S. J. Riccobono.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Printed in the United States of America.

isbn: 978-1-4269-4286-0 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4269-4287-7 (e)

Trafford rev. 11/30/2010

missing image file www.trafford.com

North America & international

toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada)

phone: 250 383 6864 fax: 812 355 4082

Dedicated to:

Bear, the cat, who sat upon command.

Contents

The Jewelry Box

The Yard Sale

Here They Come

Quick Thinker

It’s Your Decision

Is Everybody Dead Up There?

No Place Like Home

An Unlikely Rescue

The Collectors Bid

The Jewelry Box

It was a rather ordinary box; one that any common metal smith could have fashioned out of brass and tin. It was of no significant size; longer than it was wider and without much depth. It only had one minor attraction to a passing eye; a carved fractal design on its cover and sides. Of unknown origin, it first appeared in what would later become modern Norway around 332 AD where it had been discovered by a fisherman wedged between two coastal rocks during the summer thaw. He brought it home to his wife, who used it to store a few family trinkets until her death when it was bequeathed to her daughter. Sometime later the daughter sold it to a woman in the marketplace who gifted it to a relative from a territory later known as Denmark. That woman kept the box until the year 396 when it was lost in a house fire and the debris was removed to a local trash pit. The box remained buried in that pile of junk for one hundred and fifty years until it was found by a young boy in the year 546. He dusted it off, and though he didn’t know it at the time, the box was in the same condition it had been in 332 AD. The boy brought it home and gave it to his mother, who in turn used it to store her meager vanities. When the family fell on hard times, the woman sold it to a roving blacksmith interested in its simplistic lines. He kept the box for himself until 590 when he was murdered by a disgruntled customer. The box then became the property of his son who gave it to his new wife as a present. When she died of a common disease of the era, a niece was given the box until her death at seventy-five. In 665 the woman’s daughter took possession and in 710 she gave it to her eleven year old daughter, who took it outside to play and promptly lost it. Following torrential rains and mudslides, the box remained buried for another three hundred and fifty years until a rich nobleman hired several workers to build a new castle. Still in excellent condition, the box was found in a quarry pit by a mason who in turn brought it back to his native country once his work was finished. Upon his death at a ripe old age, he gifted the box to his favorite granddaughter. The young girl kept it until her death in 1150 and a nephew of hers was given the box to present to his new wife. She was very found of it until her husband brutally murdered her and buried the box alongside her body in the lowlands, hoping she would be washed out to sea. Unfortunately for him, the dead woman turned up in the marsh and the nephew was executed for his crime. The box, however, was not found with the corpse and remained buried in the ground for another two hundred and twenty years. In 1395 a wandering Frenchman noticed a shiny reflective object jutting out of the soil, dug it up and brought it back to his home in the Bordeaux region; where most of his family had already been decimated by the plague. He eventually found a woman to marry and gave her the box. In 1406 the happily married man discovered his wife in bed with a suitor and chopped both of them into pieces with an axe. A local merchant, who laid claim to their possessions, took the box and displayed it for sale in his modest shop. In 1409 an Italian merchant purchased the box, carried it home to Pisa and gave it to his wife’s sister as a wedding present. Unfortunately a violent earthquake hit the region and a wall collapsed on the sister and the box was then given to a niece. It remained with her until she sold it to a Florentine merchant in 1445, who in turn brought it home as a gift for his niece. In 1447 the niece, who was secretly a prostitute, owed one of her customers some money she had borrowed and gave him the box as payment. It remained in his possession until 1471 when he sold it to a young carpenter. In 1472 the man briefly went to work for an artist by the name of Leonardo Da Vinci, whom he gifted the box in appreciation for hiring him. Da Vinci took one look at, thought it was a piece of junk and immediately tossed it out the window. To a passerby’s surprise, he picked up the box and took it home to his wife. When her sister visited them from Tuscany, the woman traded the box in return for a hand stitched dress. The sister took it home and in 1501 gave it to her daughter. The daughter kept it until 1554 when she passed it on to her daughter. In 1602 when baroque art was popular, a traveler from Rome who was not keen on the new fanciful style, purchased the box in return for a pendant. The traveler kept it until his death in 1648 when it was given to a friend’s daughter. The daughter became a concubine of a priest and in 1680 she gave the box to him upon her deathbed. In 1694 the priest gave the box to a younger priest. By 1730 that priest bestowed it to another priest. In 1780 a visiting priest from Munich Germany was given the box as a gift and returned home with his prize. However that priest was convicted of heresy and was tortured. Hoping to receive mercy from the torturer, the priest gave him the box, but it did not shorten his agony. The torturer then presented the box to his wife and during the battle of Marengo their house was abandoned and later burned to the ground. A soldier found the box in the smoldering ashes and brought it back to his home in Berlin in 1809. From there the box remained in the soldier’s family until 1905 when it was sold to a family friend as a birthday present for his new bride. Due to its stellar condition, the woman believed the box had been custom made for her. Unfortunately both her sons were killed in the trenches of World War One; and in her depression she leaped off a cliff into the river below, taking the box with her. In 1928 the box was found washed ashore in a muddy bank and was sold to a merchant in the town of Bonn. Rather than display it for sale in his own little store, the merchant gave it to his oldest daughter. By1935 Adolph Hitler had come to power and the merchant sold it to another merchant. The result of the disastrous Nazi takeover led to World War Two; and when an errant bomb demolished the building housing the jewelry box, it was buried under the rubble. A young man eventually found the box and gave it to his father, who owned a general store in town.

It was then that Army Private George Benning of the United State’s Eighty Second Airborne Division participated in Operation Market Garden. When the war finally came to an end, George was stationed in Bonn and on one particular day he noticed the jewelry box in the window of the general store. Intrigued, he paid the paltry sum and brought it home to California where he had inherited his mother’s house in the quiet suburb of Mar Vista. Benning married in 1956 and raised two daughters; the first of their generation of baby boomers. When his oldest daughter had reached ten years of age, he gave her the box. When she went off to college, the box eventually ended up in the garage. George Benning died in 2010. The box, along with all the other stuff that clutters most garages, has remained there until this day.

The Yard Sale

Century City, a city unto its own within the sprawl of greater Los Angeles, seemed a little tired and outdated. The skyscrapers were still distinctive and overlooked a variety of shops, restaurants and movie theatres; but the world had become a much bigger place since the days of its inception. In one of the tall buildings thousands of professionals worked on successive floors where company logos stretched over the heads of perky receptionists. Such was the case on the twenty-fifth floor at the firm of Begley, Begley and Myers. Begley was dead, Begley the lesser was the lead partner and Myers had a knack of spending too much of the company’s money.

For the remainder of the nameless employees, it was a sea of cubicles bustling with young college educated fodder. Sheila Culdeski was one of those eager players and had been employed at the firm for over two years. She was a confident twenty-seven year old woman and very proud of her Certified Public Accountant degree. She was a pretty girl; by no means a stunning beauty. Unmarried and tall at five foot nine inches, Sheila had light brown curly hair and a fresh smile. She had been assigned a typical cubicle stuffed with a computer, file cabinets and a desk topped with pictures of her family and friends. She peered upward at a female employee standing at the edge of her work space.

What are you doing Saturday night?

Sheila rolled her chair back. I can’t go to the club this weekend. Chris might want to come over.

She frowned. You’ve been saying that for the last month. He didn’t even show up last week. Come on, it will be fun. There are all sorts of guys there.

Sheila hesitated. Maybe next time.

You always say next time.

She pivoted her head sheepishly. I know. But he promised he was coming. We have a lot to talk about.

All right, have it your way. But if you change your mind, give me a call.

Sheila finished her day’s work, rode the elevator to the garage, got inside her little red sedan and joined the Friday traffic leaving Century City. She lived in a modest apartment in Westwood, where thankfully it only took twenty minutes to get home in the worst of conditions. She parked her car, grabbed the mail, jammed the key into the door, kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned her blouse, turned on the television set and scoured the refrigerator for yesterday’s chow mien.

After perusing through the mail, she microwaved the food, shuffled over to the couch and watched the news. Sometime later her best friend phoned her and they chatted for about five minutes and then she resumed watching television. That would be the extent of her Friday night; an old comedy and then a documentary about secret societies and waiting for a telephone call from her boyfriend Chris that never came.

On Saturday morning Sheila drove around town and shopped for clothes and packaged meals. After a boring, tedious afternoon of reading in her apartment, she began cooking a simple chicken and vegetable dish. About to open a bottle of wine, the intercom buzzed and her boyfriend Chris announced his arrival. Irritated that he didn’t contact her earlier, Sheila pushed the button that opened the front door to the complex.

Hi, gorgeous, he casually remarked, kissing her on the lips briefly. Sorry I didn’t give you a call. I’ve been working on that new project I told you about. It could be a fifty thousand dollar payday.

Troubled by his obtuse behavior, she feigned interest. Oh, that’s great.

You don’t seem that excited?

I am.

Hey, if things keep going this way for me, you may not have to work much longer. Your boyfriend’s a genius.

So you’ve told me. She carried two full wine glasses through the living room. I was thinking we could go out tonight?

He cringed. Do we really have to? I got a better idea. Why don’t you go up and take a shower and I’ll give you a good time.

Sounds like every Saturday night.

Come on, baby. You know you dig it.

She nodded. All right. But I want to go out some time.

Make you a deal. I’ll take you out to a first class dinner and movie next weekend. But let’s just stay in tonight. It’s been a hectic week.

Although he was sexually attentive that night, Sheila spent most of the time peeking over at a television show about fiber optics. This routine had become all too familiar and she began to feel somewhat used. What had originally attracted her; a handsome face, two hundred thousand dollar a year salary and a fancy car was now becoming a drag on her self esteem. When he passed out on the couch, she finished the bottle of wine and watched late night television; eventually migrating to her bedroom without him. Thankfully Chris had already left by the morning and she could enjoy what was left of her weekend.

Monday arrived all too soon with the alarm clock jolting her out of bed and sending her running to the shower. The coffee maker was already percolating and the ritual of make-up and hair brushing had occupied most of the morning. She selected her dress, purse and most importantly, her shoes. She picked up her attaché case, glanced around the living room for something she might have missed and ran out the door to her car. On the way to work she devoured a protein bar and checked the rear view mirror for a last minute lipstick adjustment.

At the office she briskly waved to the receptionist and scurried past a row of cubicles until reaching her own. Although it did not seem apparent at first, there was an aura of gloom at the office that morning. After sorting through her emails, a male co-worker stopped to talk to her. Heard what’s going on?

No, what?

He scanned right to left and then poked his head inside her cubicle. I hear there’s going to be layoffs.

Stunned, she reared back. What?

Yeah. Something about Myers having financial troubles.

Are you kidding me? Who are they going to let go?

Don’t know the extent. A few clerks were already notified. Nobody knows anything. Everybody’s on edge.

Oh my God. This is terrible.

You don’t have to worry.

Sheila exhaled. What do you mean? I’ve only got seniority over Jenson.

He spun around. Looks like Jenson’s already heading for Mr. Daldworth.

This is bad. She faced the computer, but couldn’t bring herself to tap out anything on the keyboard. Jenson had been with Mr. Daldworth for over fifteen minutes. The office was eerily silent with only whispers of desperation floating over the cubicles. As Jenson plodded grimly back to his desk, Sheila gazed suspiciously at her phone, expecting a ring at any moment. And then as if a bomb had exploded, the phone rang and it was Daldworth on the line. He seemed friendly, but guarded as he summoned her. Sheila held in a full bladder while zigzagging through the sea of cubicles towards his office. For Daldworth’s part, he tried to be supportive and ushered her towards the leather chair across from his desk. "Sit down,