Locker {1}

“Honey, would you like more wine? Just a little bit? You know We can always open another. After all It’s not every evening we get to enjoy one of your succulent roasts, is it? And with potatoes gravy, no less. You know they’re my favorite. 

You spoil me, you always have. I honestly don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.  I’m just so glad I did whatever it was, and just know I would do it again if it meant another lifetime to spend with you.”

Benjamin Carter poured what was left into his glass, one of a set of Riedel hand-blown crystal they’d treated each other on their 45th wedding anniversary. He swirled the leggy rich red between his fingertips to release its essence and dipped his nose to enjoy the transcendent waft of another time. 

He closed his eyes to drift for just a moment, for when he opened them, he was precisely where he wanted to be, with his darling Charlotte, the love of his life and, gods be good, his wife. She was his, and he was hers. He was blessed, and knew it.

Benjamin was feeling playful. He pointed across the room.

“See your vase in the corner there? Remember that day? I do, just as if it were yesterday. If I hadn’t accidentally stumbled upon it, I may have never known it existed. Serendipity, sweet one. To this day, it is one of my most prized possessions, made with your own two hands. Nothing compared to you, of course. Nothing could be. Ah, why are you blushing? It’s not the first time I’ve said it.

“Here, I'll clean up. You relax, leave it all to me.” 

A large crowd had gathered at the Auction House of Half Moon Bay. The advertisements had run for months that abandoned storage units were ripe for auction and plentiful due to rising costs. This was Auction Day.  

There was a growing community of professionals in the area who made their living picking at the abandoned leftovers of others' lives.  They prided themselves on being practiced in the art of reading people, their surroundings and, most important, the bidding process.  They all shared one thing; a desire, quest really, to discover the mother lode of treasures just waiting behind one of those steel roll-ups.

“All right, citizens, gather around. We’re about to get started. Get your cash out and your biddin’ hand, or whatever you got, a’limber. 

First, I’d like to introduce Henry Jones. You all know him as the owner of Jones Storage Depot and he’s gone a long way to make this auction possible. Let’s give him a hand.”

Henry Jones, a modest-looking man in thick glasses, a tie and vest, raised his hand in welcome to a spattering of claps and whistles.

The serious bidders, as usual, hung back and at the fringes of the crowd, while the amateurs flocked in the middle ground, full of nerves, giggles and beer. 

“So, assuming you’ve all had a tour of the facilities, are we ready to start the bidding?  Well then, let’s not dally any longer. We’re going to start with Locker Number 129. Locker 129.  Let’s start the bidding at 10. Can I get . . .”

When the professional auctioneer begins his chant, it is impossible for the human ear to keep up. Individual words are lost within the frightening speed of a melodic tidal wave, though you may discern an occasional “I have” or a “Can I get.” 

The auctioneer must also possess a well-honed clairvoyant eye that enables instant recognition and acknowledgement of the most subtle signals – a wink, a wave, the wiggle of a finger, a one syllable “hey,” any twitch that could constitute the exchange of months of a man’s wages for a hope and a dream, all at lightning speed.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***