Rotted Bins in Faded Grey

Jennifer turned off the dirt road to pull her canary yellow Jeep into the stone driveway of her new farmhouse. Well, it was more of an old farmhouse. Built in the early 19th century in fact. She had always wanted to own an old rural property like this one, but it had only been after her parents had passed away that she had enough money at one time to purchase it. The old farmhouse was your traditional, stereotypical faded red building, with an equally rundown red barn in the New England style out back.

Pulling off the side of the driveway, Jennifer parked her Jeep next to the old Ford pickup truck of the contractor she had hired to help restore her new property. She had gotten the entire property of ten acres and the two buildings for practically a song it had been sitting so long, so she had enough money left over that she hope to be able to repair both the farmhouse and the barn before she moved in permanently. Getting out and closing the door to her Jeep, she double-clicked the key fob to lock the doors, since you could never be too careful.

“Where are you at, Frank?” Jennifer called out.

“Taking a look around the house!” Frank yelled back from out of sight, “Meet you by the front door in a minute!”

Rather than hunt for the burly, slightly overweight contractor, Jennifer went over to the front porch of the house and took a seat to wait. From the two meetings she had with Frank so far, it had quickly become clear to her that if he said a minute he meant closer to ten minutes, and if he said work could be done in a day or two, it would likely take a week. Luckily for Frank, while Jennifer was normally impatient when it came to deadlines, she still had a few months rent left on her current apartment, and the general reviews of the work Frank completed were stellar. So she was content to give the man some grace.

Like she expected, it took nearly ten minutes for Frank to come stomping around the side of the farmhouse to meet her out front. Wearing a heavy jacket and dark blue overalls that had seen better days, the beaming smile on his dirty face stole away any irritation Jennifer was feeling for having been forced to wait.

“See something you liked?” She asked.

“Indeed, Miss Walker, indeed I did,” Frank pointed a thick thumb back over his shoulder towards the side of the farmhouse he had come from, “Walked the whole way ‘round and di’n’t see any major issue with external walls that I could see. Might be the inside tells a different story, but I doubt it. Usually the outside tells you straight a’ways.”

“That is good news,” Jennifer stood up, “Are you ready to continue to the inspection inside then?”

Frank nodded, then motioned for her to take the lead, “After you, Miss Walker.”

Stepping up the three worn-down wooden steps, Jennifer pulled out the old brass key to the front door of the farmhouse. The lock was somewhat rusty, so it took several hard twists of the key to grind the tumblers open. Once they were, however, the door itself was opened with hardly any trouble.

Stepping into the room kicked dust up off the floor to float through the air. Throughout the room stood old furniture covered in sheets to protect it from the dust. The wallpaper was starting to peel in places, and some of the floorboards proved to be a bit loose as Jennifer led Frank around the ground floor of the house.

The kitchen was in a bit better shape, but Jennifer would need to pick up some new appliances before she dared trying to make anything to eat there. As it was, she was afraid to open up the antique fridge for fear that something or another had been left behind in it to rot the past several years the farmhouse had stood abandoned.

At some point, Frank had wandered off on his own. Creaking above her head told Jennifer that he was slowly inspecting the bedrooms on the second floor for anything major. Unlike outside, however, it was long until he came down to join her in the kitchen.

“It’s rough pretty much throughout, and dry rot has set in some places,” Frank said, “but given the budget you previously mentioned, it should all be doable in a single go.”

“How much wiggle room?” Jennifer asked.

“Honestly? It depends if you have asbestos to deal with in here,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “and if the barn has anything major to be done. Regarding the latter, won’t know until I get out there.”

“Well, lets go take a look then.” Jennifer led the way back out of the farmhouse.

The barn was even more impressive up close. Built in the New England style of the 19th century, the barn doors were on the gable end facing the dirt road. A similar door stood in the back, but it was overgrown with weeds and a small tree, and Jennifer doubted it could be opened even if she worked with Frank on it.

She pulled the doors open, exposing the barn itself as being in several distinct sections. Originally a dairy barn, to the left of the main floor were the tie-ups that the cows would be secured in, while hay storage and a broken stable stood to the right side. Piles of junk were everywhere, and some rusty feed bins set off to the far side. When the original owners had passed on, the farm had been shut down and most of the equipment that wasn’t sold off was put in the barn for the new owner to take care of. With how long most of it had been sitting here, Jennifer was pretty sure little of it would be salvageable.

Ignoring the piles of junk, Frank stepped over to the nearest wooden wall of the barn. Reaching out, he lightly touched the wood, running his fingers gently up and down. Though Jennifer was at least ten feet away, she could still see the splinters flacking off. That was not good.

Frank’s face got progressively more grim as he went around looking at the other walls and some of the wooden beams that held the roof up. “I hate to say it, Jennifer, but based on what I’m seein’ here, I don’t think you got enough to repair the farmhouse and the barn at the same time. Maybe three quarters of what you need.”

Jennifer hunched her shoulders. “What do you recommend?”

“Well, you could let it sit a while longer, but professionally speaking, this here barn is only going to be salvageable for another year. Two at the most.” Frank turned to look at her. “Will you be able to get some extra money together before then?”

“Possibly,” Jennifer shrugged, “but, as much as it pains me to admit it, probably not.”

“Shame,” Frank said, and he clearly meant it.

They stood in silence for a bit, both enjoying the old barn while knowing they likely wouldn’t be able to enjoy it for long.

“Well,” Frank looked at his watch, “I still got a few hours ’til I got to get back. Would you like some help moving some of this old junk?”

Jennifer looked at her watch in turn. Barely afternoon. “Sure, if you wouldn’t mind, lets move some of this junk out.”

They went slow, more to make sure they didn’t break anything more than it was already broken than because things were heavy or hard to move. Within the hour they had made a small gap next to an old feed bin. If they could manhandle it outside, then Jennifer was content to take a break to finalize the pending work with Frank. She reached down to grasp the side of it, Frank squeezing in the other direction.

Three heavy tugs and the thing refused to budge. The frustration in Jennifer at the fact the barn was not able to be saved bubbled over. Releasing her side, she lashed her booted foot out hard at the feed bin, cracking the food panel on the side. She immediately regretted it, however, as no sooner had Jennifer put her foot back down than it started to throb.

“Hmmm, that’s interesting,” Frank said, oblivious to Jennifers new limp. He pointed down at the hole. “Miss Walker, would you take a look here?”

Favoring her right leg, Jennifer stepped over to peer through the hole. The light coming into the barn was just bright enough to illuminate several stairs going downwards.

“A hidden cellar?” She asked, somewhat surprised.

“Looks like it.” Frank kicked the hole open wider to loosen it, then pulled the whole thing aside, exposing the steps down. “Want to take a look?”

Curious despite herself, Jennifer nodded and slowly made her way down the steps. It wasn’t very deep, only six steps, but once she got to the bottom she was a bit confused. The cellar was less a room and more a shelf that had been constructed at the end of the steps. Seven cloudy glass jars set there, but the dust that had accumulated obscured whatever they might have held.

Taking one, Jennifer was somewhat surprised at the weight. Quite a bit heavier than she had expected. Not able to see what she held in the dim lightly, Jennifer took it with her back up the stairs. Frank stepped back from the edge once he knew she had her balance.

Jennifer gripped the broken lid and twisted. It held for several seconds, then loosened abruptly, letting free a puff of dust. They both coughed for several seconds before bending over the jar to see what they had. They were shocked at the glint of silver.

Hardly believing her luck, Jennifer reached inside to pull out a shiny coin with a woman’s face in profile. The year emblazoned on the front was a clear 1893. Flipping it over brought another shock. The mint mark was an ’S’. A quick glance at the jar she still held in her hand showed at least a dozen similar coins. And there were more jars back down the stairs. Having seen the coin Jennifer was looking at, Frank let out a low whistle.

“Well, Miss Walker, I guess you have enough money to fix up both after all”

Jennifer lowered the coin back into the jar, ever so delicately. She swallowed once nervously, then seemed to pick up what Frank said. She turned to look him full in the face, a truly tremendous smile cracking her previously depressed expression.

“Frank, I do believe I would like to hire you to repair the barn as well.”