He went back into the office. "Then when I get done, I'll help you °"

With one last little whimper, I steeled myself and took a step into the room. Flattened cardboard boxes were stacked on the table, along with duct tape, wide packing tape, and a Magic Marker. I popped a box into a square, taped the bottom, and started on the bookcase along the back wall. In the beginning the shelves had been installed to hold fancy dishes and shiny silver platters. Gert had long since packed away anything of worth, and the shelves were now covered with junk.

I wished Gert would appear like a hologram right beside me. First I'd ask her what gave her the right to buy a turkey from the store when she knew how to wring a neck and pluck feathers. And then I'd make her tell me what was worth keeping and what was junk.

The doorbell rang before I had time to put a single item into the first box. I didn't care if it was Marty or Betsy, just so long as I could procrastinate a few more minutes. I opened the door to find a smartly dressed woman and man on my porch, each with a briefcase. It was definitely not my day. It didn't matter if they were selling encyclopedias or religion-I wasn't interested.

"Trudy Matthews?" The man had a high-pitched voice with a lisp.

Maybe they'd been sent straight from heaven to punish me for thinking about burning down the house. How else would they know my name? Or maybe Crystal had really declared me insane, and the briefcases were filled with drugs to sedate me until they could get a straitjacket onto me.

"Why do you want Trudy?"

"Mr. Tucker called last night and made arrangements for us to come by. We are antiques dealers from Ada, and..

I swung the door open and motioned them inside. "Please, come right in. I'm about to clean out the dining room."

"Hey, Trudy, I forgot to tell you I called an antiques dealer to ... Guess it doesn't matter now," Billy Lee shouted from the top of the stairs.

I shook a finger at him. I'd deal with him later. He was full of surprises, and I truly loved most of them, but someday he was going to forget to tell me something that would cause a heart attack.

The woman made introductions as they followed me. "I'm Linda, and this is my husband, Art. Is it all right if we set up shop on the end of this table?"

They were the same height and age, somewhere around sixty, and all business.

He gasped at the dining room table. "It's oak. Late eighteen hundreds. Are you selling it?"

"No, we're keeping it," I said.

"Please let us be first to bid on it if you decide to sell. Now, what would you like us to catalog and make an offer on?"

"Oh, Art, look at these precious salt and pepper shakers, and they're clearly marked on the bottom. I can see a lot of items we'd be interested in purchasing, so let me explain our rates. We will pay sixty percent of book value on any antique. We will show you the item in the catalog, so you'll know we are not cheating you"

Heck, I didn't care what they paid me. Anything was better than the nothing I'd get when I took it all to the Goodwill store in Durant.

"Just keep a list, and I'll look at it when you're finished. What you don't want, please . .

"For the honor of getting to go through this stuff, we'll gladly box what we don't want so you can store it." Art popped open a briefcase, brought out several books, a yellow legal pad, and a calculator, plus a hardbound business checkbook.

We all took a break at lunchtime. They asked about a restaurant, and I sent them out to the Western Inn for the lunch buffet. Billy Lee stopped work, and we made sandwiches in the kitchen.

"So, are they finding anything good?" he asked, as I looked over the paper where they'd listed what they had found so far.

"About ten thousand dollars' worth so far. That's six thousand to us" That last word came out so naturally, it scared me.

"And is it making a dent in the junk?"

"Not nearly enough. Could we take what's left to the Goodwill down in Durant?"

"Anytime you want, we can load it up in the van and run it down there. Got any more of that coconut cream pie?"

I brought a frozen pie out of the refrigerator, cut off two slabs, and put them on paper plates.

He reached for his. "Gert used to tell me she'd had a fortune in this house right under Lonnie's nose. Guess she did know the difference between good antiques and pure junk. I thought she meant it was hidden in the attic or basement, but then, that wouldn't have been right under his nose, would it?"

"What else did she tell you?" I asked.

"That when she was dead she hoped ..." He paused.

"What?" I pressured.

"Okay, I'll fens up. I knew she was leaving it all to you."

"And?"

"She said she hoped you went through things really slowly and didn't toss out anything valuable."

"I can see why, but was she talking about just the stuff in this house?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. She'd say something like that and then tell me what happened back when she and Eula were little girls or some other piece of her history. There at the end her mind flitted from past to present and back again during the course of one supper."

He ate, and I pondered, finally putting my untouched pie back into the carton. What on earth could she have meant? The jewelry? Maybe she was afraid I'd toss everything without taking time to really look at it.

"I guess she meant that jewelry."

"You might want to put it into the safe"

Thinking he meant a safe deposit box at the bank, I asked, "And where's the key to that?"

"Don't need a key. It's a combination lock, and I know the combination."

I must have looked puzzled.

"Come on, I'll show you. It's in the basement, and no one but me even knows it's there. She had it installed after Lonnie died. I should've told you about it, but there's been so much to do, and-"

"-and I trust you, Billy Lee" I finished the sentence.

He opened a door down to the basement and pulled a penny chain cord. Light shined down a very narrow staircase. I hate cellars and basements and caves and anything underground. Let the tornado whistle blow, and I'll ignore it. I'd rather take my chances swirling through the air with all the other debris than spend an hour in a musty-smelling cellar.

He moved an old Victrola to one side and squatted down to slide a metal suitcase away, and right there on ground level was the door of a safe.

"There we go. Combination is seven right, thirteen left, eleven right"

Every day brought a brand-new surprise.

The inside of the safe was about eighteen inches square and filled with papers, money, and more jewelry in little black velvet drawstring bags. I leafed through the papers and jewelry before putting it all back.

"I don't have time to deal with this right now. I've got to get the upstairs cleaned out first. One thing at a time. We'll go through the rest of it later and put that jewelry down here," I said.

Billy Lee shut the safe, twirled the dial, and moved the camouflage back over it. "Ain't inheriting fun?"

"I could write a book"

"Why don't you?"

"Are you serious?"

"Sure. You are so smart. You could write a book. You're funny too. Tell it just like you see it. Only . . ." He waggled his eyebrows. "Change the names to protect the guilty."