Furniture draped in white covers looked like hovering ghosts. Allie yanked the cover from the baby grand piano first and tossed it aside. Faint echoes, both of past laughter and sketches of conversation mingled with aunt Grace's talent at the piano, brought back fond memories and gave her pause. Her bravado of a few short moments ago evaded her momentarily. Holiday parties and family gatherings were so much a part of this room. Feeling the need to preoccupy her mind, she began to randomly remove covers from the furniture.
After a while, only two covers remained in place. Stalling for time, Allie walked over to the table sitting under one of the large windows on either side of the fireplace. The family Bible was lying open to Gramps’ favorite verse. She knew it by heart, but she read it anyway. She gently closed the worn cover and placed the Bible near her purse.
Allie looked at the remaining covers. She felt faint when she stood beside the one on the left. She lifted the cover, as if in slow motion. The smell of pipe tobacco and well-worn leather assailed her senses. She thought her knees might buckle. Gramps’ old leather easy chair sat there, seemingly staring back at her. The arms of the chair were faded from many years of use. Allie touched the small, worn indention on the back of the chair where Gramps would rest his head when he was deep in thought. More often than not he would drift off and snore gently.
When she came to visit, Gramps would always say to her: "Allie, if you didn't bring a book, I’ll get you one from the library." He never got her a book, but she would find herself sitting at his feet, in front of a slow burning fire, listening while he read to her about countless things and places. The resonance of his voice was so soothing and comforting; it made her feel safe and loved. She had adored him, as he did her.
Drifting back from her daydream, she stared at the other side of the fireplace where the last cover remained. Allie walked over hurriedly, and, without ceremony, removed it. The tiny cricket rocker was unchanged. It was a tiny chair, delicate and feminine, like the lady who owned it. But in truth, like its owner, it was sturdy and dependable. The rocker had always been incongruous with the rest of the room. It was a pale maple wood, unlike the other furnishings, which were deep rich mahogany. The upholstery was neither fine leather nor tapestry. It was a bright, colorful patchwork. The decorator had stormed out of the room in a huff when Gram refused to give up the chair. Gram didn't give a fig what anyone thought. She loved this chair and so did Allie. Gram was her own person with no reservations about expressing her opinions. Her straight- forwardness did not in any way take away from her compassionate and loving nature, but rather enhanced it.
Gram was always sewing, “mending,” she called it. She would often tell Allie: "When I finish another stitch or two, we will go and see if we can find some cookies and milk." Allie always wondered how it could take so long to finish two stitches. When she was older, she realized that one or two stitches usually meant finishing whatever Gram was sewing.
Gram was her best friend. She had listened through Allie's turbulent teenage years, and encouraged her during her college years. She held Allie and made her hot chocolate the first time a boy broke her heart. The two of them giggled like teenagers when Allie became engaged. They stayed up all night laughing and talking. Her wedding reception was celebrated in this very room.
Allie stood motionless. She closed her eyes, allowing herself the small luxury of one last moment to savor the feel and smell of Gram's sitting room. Then the moment faded, and it was time to go. Picking up her purse and Bible she exited the room. As she was closing the doors, Allie would have sworn, she heard Gram say: "Be sure you close those doors, Allie, or we will lose all our warm air." She smiled when she heard the latch click.
When Allie finished with her walk through the house, she did not tarry. Walking briskly to the door, she opened it and stepped out into the late afternoon sun. Janice Thompson, the realtor, was down in the front lawn erecting the auction sign. Allie greeted her. They discussed the sale, and confirmed the plans that they had gone over on the phone. Janice assured her all would be in place for auction day. She had the gardeners and the cleaning agency lined up to get everything ready. Feeling both grateful and confident of Janice's ability, Allie said her goodbyes and got in her car.
She switched on the radio as she was turning out of the tree lined lane. Allie was humming along when the thought occurred to her: how very strange that she had never, before today, noticed that the walls in Gram’s sitting room were dull gray!