In an hour, I have most of the garbage in the back of the truck and the house is looking austere and clean.
I sit down with my coffee and listen to the Mountain of Pure Rock while I go through Uncle Walt’s ledger. He recorded all the expenses of the house for decades. Unfortunately, he used his own names for each of the recipients of his checks. It’s a bit of a guessing game as I try to align the entries in his ledger to cancelled checks I found in the bottom drawer of his desk. All I’m trying to do is track down a few mysterious expenses that occurred every month, according to his records. I’m terrified that I will fail to pay one of the bills and invite a lien on the house or get one of the services disconnected.
We’re listening to Jethro Tull this morning, which is followed by CSN&Y.
The phone rings.
I reach back and grab the cordless phone from the counter.
“Hello?”
I sit up straight when I hear her voice.
After reestablishing our identities, I can already guess what she’s going to say by the tone of her voice.
“He passed during the night,” Amber says.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
I want to ask questions, but that would be rude. She answers a couple of them anyway.
“Aplastic anemia, is what they’re guessing, although it also could have been just a vitamin deficiency. We’re not asking for more tests. He was ninety-seven.”
I swallow. All things considered, I think he was doing pretty good for ninety-seven. He was living on his own and climbing those stairs every day. That’s not nothing. I don’t say any of this. She doesn’t need to hear my assessment of a man that I knew for ten minutes.
“There’s a tiny, tiny chance that there was something toxic in his house, but if that’s true he was probably exposed for decades. I just wanted to mention in case you want to get some blood work done.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. I’m so glad he didn’t, you know… All alone in that house. He loved that house. We could never get him to leave for even a long weekend.”
My Uncle Walt was the same way. One time I mentioned an eclipse to him. He said, “Well, if you can get them to have it at my house, I’ll be happy to watch it.”
She thanks me again for being a nosy neighbor and we say our goodbyes. After we hang up, I almost want to call back. I should have told her to stop by if she comes to clean out the place. I might have some pointers for someone coming to clean out Mr. Engel’s house. My experience in that department is super fresh.
I’m just about to pick up the phone when it rings.
It’s her again.
“Sorry. I meant to ask you one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“Is there any chance—and feel free to say no—but is there a chance you would be willing to stop by the house and shut off the power and water and lock the place up?”
“I’d be happy to, but may I ask why?”
“We’re not sure when we’re going to get up there and I hate to think of some electrical problem burning the house down or a leaking pipe flooding the place, you know?”
“Yeah, I hear you. The problem is that without heat, the pipes are definitely going to freeze in a couple of months, and if the furnace is anything like the one here, it needs power to keep going.”
“Oh,” she said.
I’m wondering if she’s really young, or maybe lives in an apartment. The issues I’m raising seem pretty obvious, but maybe that’s just because I’m living with them right now in Uncle Walt’s place. When I was thinking about cleaning out and selling this place, the realtor I talked to warned me that I would need to “pickle” the place for the winter.
“What would you recommend?” she asks.
I tell her the things that my realtor mentioned to me—draining the pipes and adding antifreeze to the toilets and traps. I can hear her brain overloading over the phone.
“You don’t have to make these decisions today,” I say. “Listen, I’ll go over and shut off the power. That will take care of the water too, by the way. The house has a pump.”
“Oh?”
Even that seems like too much information for her to process.
“Don’t sweat it,” I say. “Just make a note on your calendar to think about this again in a month or so, okay?”
“Okay,” she says. She sounds relieved. A month is far enough away that she can catch her breath. “Thanks again.”
I don’t mention the thing about stopping by. I’ll bring it up when we talk again, if we ever do. I’m starting to think that Amber is never going to set foot in Mr. Engel’s house. I want to ask how she’s related, but I hold that question too. It will likely be answered by the obituary.
We say our goodbyes and hang up.
It’s not until I put the phone back in the charger that I realize what I’ve just signed up for.
“Turn off the power,” I say with a sigh.
I’m thinking about Uncle Walt’s breaker box. It’s located in the cellar. I bet Mr. Engel’s is too.
Cellar
(I've put it off as long as I dare.)
I have put it off as long as I dare.
Now, it’s about five in the afternoon. I still have three hours until sunset.
I did every other errand and chore I could think of first. I went grocery shopping and got my hair cut. By the way, it only costs six dollars to get a crew cut around here. Any other cut costs ten. I think it’s Mr. Bean’s way
