The Chimney between Two Windows

55 cents. What a strange amount. It’s an amount most people would ignore, would pass it by on the sidewalk without so much as a second glance. Futures do not hang in the balance by 55 cents. Lives do not change because of 55 cents. Except for Ann. Everything changed in Ann’s life because of 55 cents.

Ann had just pulled into the driveway when her roommate appeared at the window. As with most roommates, Ann’s didn’t much to the table. Freyja, the roommate, is known for waking Ann up several times a night. She is the epitome of a night owl and very much hates to be alone. Freyja has never washed a dish in her life. She also tends to have horrific smelling trips to the bathroom. Did I mention Freyja is a cat? Inconsequential really.

After the marathon that was feeding Freyja, cleaning up after Freyja, and tripping over Freyja, Ann grabbed some gummy bears that would be her dinner and made her way to the mailbox. Calling out over her shoulder, “Wish me luck, Freyja!”, Ann slipped out and shut the door behind her. Checking the mail always made Ann so nervous. There were always bills in there and never quite enough money to cover them.

Leafing past credit card bills, the power bill, the water bill, and the car insurance bill, Ann stumbled upon a letter addressed to her from a lawyer. A lawyer? Always one to expect the worst, Ann burst into the house and hollered out, “Freyja, what have you done now? Why am I now getting communication from lawyers? So help me, if this is another letter likening you cleaning yourself to public indecency, I’m buying you the cheap off-brand food you don’t like for the rest of your life!”

Slipping her finger under the envelope flap and removing the letter, Ann read once. Then twice. Then three more times. With her hands shaking, she fished her phone out of her bag and immediately called her mom. Answering on the third ring, her mom garbled out a hello.

“Why do you sound like you have 12 marbles in your mouth?”, Ann said in lieu of greeting, momentarily distracted. She then heard water running and some spitting.

“Sorry, I was brushing my teeth. How was your day?”, her mom said.

“Dreadful as usual”, Ann said before getting to the point of the call. “Do you remember hearing that Great-Aunt Rosemary died? Well, I just opened a letter from a lawyer-“

Cutting her off, Ann’s mom exclaimed, “Oh, don’t tell me this is about that cat of yours again. Honestly Ann, she’s a menace”.

“Well, if she’s such a menace, why do you visit her during the day when I’m at work and tap out I love you on the window in Morse code to her? Anyway, it turns out Great-Aunt Rosemary left me that decrepit old house of hers. According to Rosemary’s wishes, I’m to stay a few days at the house before deciding what to do with the place and everything inside. Why do you think she left it to me? I only ever visited her a handful of times on summer breaks”, Ann mused.

“It’s no surprise really”, her mom explained. “You remind me a lot of Rosemary actually. You’re going on 32 years old, no partner in sight. You adore cats. You stay locked up in your house all the time eating gummy bears and reading. Rosemary had a big sweet tooth, you know? She had I don’t know how many cats over the years, never married, and hated to leave her house and her books. So when are you heading out there?”

“You know mom, I always forget how uplifting it is to talk to you. I’m feeling so good about myself right now. Thank you for that. As for heading to Rosemary’s, Freyja and I are going to leave in the morning. I’m lucky I already had the next few days off”.

Be sure to drive safely, Ann”, her mom said before hanging up. And with those words ringing in Ann’s head, she laid down and tried to get some sleep. It was shaping up for be a very interesting few days.

By the time Ann had unfolded herself from the car the next morning, she felt as frazzled as she undoubtedly looked. Her sleep last night was practically non-existent, and she had just spent 4 solid hours listening to Freyja howl in indignation at being in a crate. After letting the mid-morning sun warm her neck for a few seconds, Ann took a deep breath of the fresh country air, closed her eyes, and turned slowly around. Her breath caught a little when she opened her eyes.

The house was exactly as she remembered. The large wrap-around porch and massive windows held whispers of times and parties gone by. The white paint on the house was peeling, the black shutters had faded to an ashy gray, and the loose wooden planks on the porch squeaked under the old wooden rockers. There’s a certain beauty in aging though, isn’t there? Three stories certainly crammed with a lifetime of memories and possessions. What was Great-Aunt Rosemary thinking of leaving it to her?

Bracing herself for the unknown, Ann hauled her tattered lilac backpack and an obviously perturbed Freyja from the car and headed for the house. Reaching the large oak door with its oval frosted pane of glass, she could see the shadows of the wrought iron hall tree that held all of Rosemary’s gardening hats, galoshes, and gloves. Hoping that nothing had changed, Ann reached under the weathered porch swing to the left of the door and there it was. The house key still dangling on a little nail, hidden to all those who didn’t know.

Unlocking the front door, Ann stepped in and set Freyja’s crate down. Light was filtering in from the windows draped in soft white cotton eyelet curtains. The dust motes floated lazily about in the air. The air was still but carried the scent of Rosemary’s favorite perfume, an earthy rose and lemongrass. Slowly relaxing at the peace of the house, Ann opened Freyja’s crate. She sauntered out and began investigating the blue and purple hand-braided rug that Rosemary and Ann made all those summers ago. “Well, what do you think, Freyja? It’s a pretty big house”, Ann remarked. As if in response, Freyja puked all over the rug.

After setting the rug outside on the porch to be hosed down later and setting up Freyja’s food and water fountain, Ann made her way up the large staircase that dominated the foyer. The treads and handrails were a deep, rich mahogany. The treads held slight dips made by traffic over the years, and the handrails had been worn smooth by the countless hands guiding individuals in the direction of their destination. The dark mahogany was offset by the crispest, most pristine white.

Making her way upstairs, Ann turned left and went into the second door on the right. It was the room she stayed in those summers with Rosemary. The double brass bed was covered in a pink and yellow quilt. On top of the cherry dresser was a delicate doily, a wash basin, and a music box Ann had never seen. The music box was made from beautiful cedar. Cedar wood always reminded her of memories persevered in time; only the most special of items are kept in cedar. Ann’s dad had always told her that cedar protects our secrets.

On the lid of the music box was an inlay of a violin, a lute, a piece of sheet music, and laurel leaves stained a delicate golden honey. Opening the lid, the soft sounds of “Canon” by J. Pachebel echoed around the room. The inside was lined with a soft brown velvet and next to the music mechanisms was another compartment with a lid on it. But in order to access the compartment, a combination needed to be entered. Curious. Slightly befuddled, Ann listened to the dying notes before closing the lid and setting it on the dresser.

Realizing she hadn’t eaten in over 12 hours, Ann made her way back downstairs to see if Rosemary kept anything remotely edible in the kitchen. Opening the pantry revealed lots of oatmeal and cat food. Rosemary hadn’t had another cat in over 5 years. In the freezer were various frozen meals for one and popsicles. At the very back of the freezer under a copy of Dante’s Inferno was a frozen pizza. Success! Flipping the oven on to start preheating, Ann sat down at the kitchen table where Rosemary had been working on puzzle. It wasn’t until the shrill of the smoke detector that Ann smelled something burned. Immediately flipping off the oven, she fished out a now rather charred copy of Fahrenheit 451. Giving up, she had oatmeal instead and went to bed.

With the oven debacle of last night still fresh in her mind, Ann decided to see what else was hidden about the house. Water bottle and radio in hand, Ann and Freyja made their way all the way to the attic at the top of the house. Pushing open the creaky door, Ann just stared for a minute, but Freyja bolted right in. This was her cat’s idea of a good time. The attic was positively filled to bursting with cloth-draped furniture, trunks galore, and dress forms Rosemary used to use when making her clothes. At the far end was the chimney, which was flanked by two windows covered in yellow curtains with springs of white hydrangeas and green leaves. Setting down her water bottle and switching on the radio, Ann began to open trunks.

Time passed in a blur. She found loads more books, beautiful old clothes and hats that had sadly been attacked by moths, and mounds of snowy, musty linens. Suddenly Ann broke out of her revelry when she heard the sound of something crashing to the floor. Looking over her shoulder towards the chimney stack, there was Freyja, climbing the curtain to the left of the chimney. In her haste to make it to the curtain rod, Freyja knocked a brick loose. Running over and snatching the cat down, Ann said, “You’re the reason we can’t have nice things!”

As she bent to put Freyja on the ground, she saw a little black book with the initials RAD embossed in gold on the upper right corner. RAD. Rosemary Augusta Donoghue. It had obviously fallen out from behind the brick. Holding her breath, Ann picked up the little book and opened it. There was nothing written in it, but as she leafed through it, a picture fell out. It was a sepia picture of a young man dressed in an army uniform and a beautiful young woman wearing flared skirt with a shirt tied at the waist. They didn’t have eyes for the camera though, only for each other. Turning over the photo, Ann read, “Rosemary, Even if I don’t make back, just know I will always take care of you. Love, Frank”. The date of June 17, 1940 was in the upper right hand corner with the numbers 5736 under Frank’s name. Her mind immediately went back to the music box. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Racing back downstairs to her room, Ann opened the box. With trembling fingers, she rotated the dials until they read 5736. The surface popped open with a click, and inside was a letter. It read, “Ann, If Frank had survived the war, I hope that our daughter would have turned out as wonderful as you. You deserve all this and more. Love always, Rosemary”. Included with the letter was a check for an amount that Ann couldn’t fathom.

Through the tears of relief and realization, Ann asked, “Freyja, how would you like to call this home and never eat off-brand food again?”