The Heirloom Murders - Kathleen Ernst [4]
“Good Lord.” Chloe Ellefson’s jaw dropped with dismay as she climbed the final steps and emerged into the attic. “Geez, Dellyn! When you asked for my help you didn’t mention we’d need a backhoe.”
Her friend winced. “Don’t abandon me now. I’m begging you.” Dellyn Burke wiped sweat from her forehead. The attic was broiler-hot.
Chloe pulled a string dangling from a light fixture, and was immediately sorry. The bulb’s sickly yellow glow only accentuated the bewildering assortment of stuff: a butter churn, three dressmakers’ dummies, chairs upholstered in chintz and horsehair, several trunks, a cradle … and boxes. Hundreds of boxes, pushed low under the eaves and piled high beneath the crest of the ceiling.
Dellyn clutched her elbows, crossing her arms across her chest. She was shorter than Chloe, and younger too—late twenties, probably, to Chloe’s thirty-two. She wore paint-spotted jeans and a faded T-shirt that might once have been blue. Her hair was pulled into a simple ponytail. She was lovely in a straightforward way; a woman who didn’t waste energy on what didn’t matter, like make-up. But her expression was strained.
“In the interest of full disclosure,” Dellyn said finally, “I should tell you that you haven’t seen half of it. There’s twice this much stuff in the barn. And my dad’s study is crammed, too.”
“Collection obsession,” Chloe said bleakly, then immediately wished she hadn’t. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Dellyn’s parents had died suddenly, in a car crash, only a few months earlier.
Dellyn touched a child’s rocking horse, setting it in motion. “It’s OK. But most of these aren’t family heirlooms. My parents helped found the Eagle Historical Society—oh, probably twenty years ago. They were only collecting stuff until the society can afford a building of its own.”
“That was a good goal,” Chloe said charitably.
Dellyn nudged the rocking horse with her toe, keeping it moving. “Both of my parents grew up in Eagle. They did more to preserve and protect this village’s history and heritage than anyone. Once they began talking about starting a little museum … well, people started giving them stuff. My folks didn’t know how to say no to anyone. Things obviously, um, got out of hand.”
“Well, I can understand that. I got a call at work yesterday from someone who said that she had a lot of valuable antiques she was sure Old World Wisconsin would want, but if I didn’t come take them that afternoon, she was putting them out for the garbage collector.”
Dellyn shook her head. “I wouldn’t want your job. I’m much happier collecting seeds. They’re small.”
“Small sounds good,” Chloe agreed wistfully. “And to think I took the curator of collections job because I thought working with artifacts would be easier than working in education.” She’d only been employed at the huge outdoor ethnic museum on the outskirts of Eagle for about two months, but she’d quickly learned that collections work had its own share of problems.
Dellyn shoved her hands in her pockets. “I shouldn’t have asked for your help.”
“It’s OK,” Chloe said quickly. She’d been glad to give up her lunch hour when Dellyn had asked. It felt good to be needed. Besides, Dellyn was nice. Chloe had been in short supply of friends lately.
“I just don’t know what to do with all this!” Dellyn’s voice rose. “I have no idea what’s valuable and what isn’t.”
“There’s monetary value, and there’s historical value,” Chloe said. “But first, who actually owns this stuff ? Did your parents legally transfer it to the Eagle Historical Society?”
“No. That was the plan for … one day.”
“That’s good.” Chloe lifted the flap on the closet box. Flow-blue china, packed in straw. She tucked the flap back into place. “You’re free to cull.