Most Recent Update for "The Job" The Arrival It was the kind of job one takes because he’s run out of options, and I was, so, I took the contract. I got fifty percent up front, and that kept me from being homeless. However, now that I was standing in front of the place, I was second guessing myself. It was an old eighteenth century Victorian mansion, right up to the widows walk on top, where an old weather vane was leaning from seeing better days. This was right out of a horror movie! And my job? Get it cleaned up and ready to sell………Had I known then……….. Unloading the car and supplies for my stay into the Front Hall, I saw before me a grand winding staircase to the upper floors. In the center of the stairway, and elevator had been installed. The power wasn’t set to be on until the next day, so it would be candles tonight. There would be some moonlight, but I wouldn’t want to depend on it out in the woods. The outside of the house was deceptive; one would have expected to have roof leaks and water damage. Except for the dust one would assume it was lived in, the red velvet wall paper was as vibrant as the day it was hung, the brass, was as shiny as ever, the carpets and rugs though dulled by the dust, was in great shape. Now I need to pick a Bedroom before the Sun goes down. I really didn’t want to climb those stairs after a long day of work, so I searched the ground floor for a corner to camp in. Off the main hall was a banquet room, and across that were the doors that led to the kitchen. The kitchen was large, meant to serve large crowds, it was there I discovered my room; it was the old cooks quarters off the kitchen consisting of a bathroom, bed room, and a small reading room, perfect for my needs, and close to the kitchen for when I get the munchies. I cleaned up the cook’s quarters, and started putting away my clothes and personal items, storing my tools and gear in a broom closet between the pantry and the kitchen. I had packed some snack foods, and some ready to eat stuff as I knew there would be no electricity until tomorrow. I found a few oil lamps, filled them up, and assembled my candles and set them about to make passing through rooms a little easier, I had a another hour or two before the sun went down, and I would wait ‘till the power is on before exploring the upper floors. Why climb the stairs when an elevator is available? I wandered out the service door off the cook’s quarters (My Room), into the back yard, what once had been a magnificent rose garden. There were what would have been immaculately manicured shrubs and trees, now just a tangled mess. There had been a fountain in the center of the rose garden, nothing left but a few bricks to mark the spot it once stood. Beyond that was a small cottage, as I neared the cottage I could make out the sign pointing the path to the front door, it read “Custodian” It was small cottage; the kind you picture when think of an Irish country village, except it had red clay tiles instead of thatch roof, curious though, path was clear, as if someone had been using it, and the yard much better maintained. Arriving at the door it was obvious no one has passed in some time, there was branches, leaves and clutter on a rather dusty porch, the door was no better, the outer edges were practically stucco from the accumulation of pelting rain and blowing dust, which made unlocking and opening rather difficult, and it gave out such a groan when I shoved the door open, and like the house, the outside was deceptive, the owner of the home certainly lavished on his custodian, it was almost like going back in time, no, it was like going back in time, the furnishings, drapery, even the lamps and knickknacks were eighteenth century, and in very good condition considering, the art, priceless, Then perhaps I thought it wasn’t the Custodian at all this was prepared, perhaps this was a personal space, a private museum, set before a small fire place, two Victorian chairs, placed slightly facing each other as if for two lovers to warm their hands by the fire. I pictured what it must have looked like all dressed out for Christmas as was the tradition at the time. It was comfortable, Much better than the cooks qtrs. In the main house, so I decided to start cleaning it up first thing in the morning, it would be nice to return to this after a hard day’s work. One Notable difference was in the main house everything was red and red velvet, seat covers and backs, wall paper, accents, but, in the Custodian’s cottage it was a Royal Blue. By the time I found my way back to My Room, the shadows had grown long, and the sky, a burnt orange; darkness would be soon upon me. I set about lighting the candles and oil lamps, it was quite cozy actually. I showered, and put on my sweats and wandered into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat, Tuna, Crackers, Cheese, and a warm bottle of Blue Nun, I didn’t bring the Blue Nun, it was in the wine cellar, and I was having fish. I felt tired after my meal and was ready for a good night’s sleep; I extinguished all but the oil lamp in my room, and turned it on low, and took the flashlight I brought to bed with me. The bed was comfortable, covered with quilts over a hundred years old, feather mattress, and thick white cotton sheets…….and I had drifted off to sleep with this thought. I was awakened a while later by what I thought a knock on the door, Turning on my flashlight I got out of bed, but, there was no one outside the door, so I climbed back into bed, and fell back to sleep. Only to have it happen again, again I got out of bed, again no one outside the door, after the third time, I was starting to become a little frazzled, Likely there’s a varmint somewhere or a bird stuck in the alcoves, and all I want to do is sleep! Damn it! I could see the sun was coming up after the third rude awakening, but, I wasn’t going to let it bother me, with a little luck I would have a little home. The second floor was only an alcove, laid out as a bedroom. The lower floor had a small sitting room with the fore mentioned fireplace and chairs, a small kitchen, and a bathroom obviously added sometime after it was first built. I had just finished the first floor of the cottage; when the man from the electric company hollered out. Leaving the Cottage and making my way to the main house I met the electric man, I showed him where the box was and an hour later, I had electricity, for good measure I had him check out the elevator, “Like brand new” he said. I signed the paper work and went to have some coffee in the kitchen, feeling a little better knowing I’d have lights tonight. Plus the Stove was electric. As I sat in the Banquet room sipping my coffee, and contemplating my plan of attack on the main house, when the elevator started up, Surprised, shocked, and a little frightened I jumped and ran to the elevator, relieved to see the electric man, he’d forgotten a tool in the basement and used the elevator. After he’d left the second time, I headed back to the Cottage to finish preparing it for its new occupant, ME! By the time I’d finished, the sun was going down, and I needed some wood for the stove, funny they added a bathroom, bet didn’t update the kitchen, and even had pump handle in the kitchen sink, though the bathroom was 1940’s it looked like. After fixing fried eggs and ham on the wood stove, it was a little warm inside, so I opened the door to let some heat out, I was standing there on the porch, and looking back toward the main house when I saw him; he was standing where the fountain had been, a slight little man, maybe five foot tall, old as the hills, looking puzzled, almost looked lost, I headed out to introduce myself and find out who he was and what he was doing here, but when I looked back up, he was gone, I searched until the light, or lack of light, made it fruitless. So I retired to the interior of the cottage to prepare for bed. I took my shower and donned my sweats, lit a lamp, literally lit it, they were still oil lamps. I was in the mood to read, the atmosphere begged for it. There was a nice selection of books, though all predated 1900. Ahhh, The complete collection of William Shakespeare, that’ll do! Settled in one of the two chairs before the fireplace, I chose Hamlet, I had hardly began when there came a knock at the door, it was the old gent I had seen and searched for. I invited him in, and I offered him one of the chairs, perhaps some Brandy? He accepted both, nothing noteworthy, nothing that would make him stand out, someone’s grand-dad, I introduced myself, and I explained my job, He introduced himself, “Hal, Short for Harold, Harold Trotter” I used to be the Custodian here, oh but that was years ago, I loved this place, my happiest times were right here where I sit now, haven’t been inside in ages. I asked him if he came here often, he said, “nearly every” day. I asked “So that explains the worn path?” He said, “Likely”. He said there used to be a beautiful fountain with the naked lady pouring water out of a pitcher; she was all gold, when the sun came up in the morning you could hardly get a look at her the glare was so bright. It turned the whole garden gold from its reflection. Oh it was a sight to see! The story goes it was modeled after the bride of the man who built the house, but you know how stories go. So what year did you start working here? I asked Oh, I’m no good with dates son, why can’t remember years. He replied. It was built before I got here. He continued. So this was your house? I asked. Yes, this was my home, me and the Mrs. Lived here, we were never blessed with children I know we lived here for a long time, don’t rightly know how many years. Was it decorated like this when you lived here? I asked. Yes nothing has changed, exactly as when I lived here. So you were here in the bathroom was put in? I asked. Yes I was here then, as I remember I helped put it in. He replied. So I would say that was around the thirties and forties? I suggested. Oh, I wouldn’t know that, I told you, I’m no good with the years. He said. As he sat back in his chair, sipped his brandy, looked around the room with the contentment of a man who’d come home, it was obvious he and I were in different times, he was a world away. After a few moments he snapped back, thanked me for the brandy, my time, and the chance to reminisce. I said I had some more questions I’d like to ask if you would like to stay longer, to which he declined, perhaps another time he said as he exited the door. Time seemed to have slowed down while my visitor was there, it seemed like we were together for only a short while, but after he’d left I realized hours had passed, and I was ready to turn in, the bed was comfortable, not as comfortable as the cook’s bed, but this one will do.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Jun 2013 22:14:09 +0000
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