Act of God

number.
    I said, “An auction?”
    “Can’t fool you.”
    “What are you going to do, put me on the block?”
    “Only if you tell another altar boy story.”
    “Seriously, Nance, what do you need from an auction?”
    “John, have you ever looked at the furniture in my apartment?”
    Nancy rented the third floor of a three-family house from the Boston Police family that owned the building. “Frequently.”
    “Have you ever noticed the chest of drawers in my bedroom?”
    I just smiled at her.
    She said, “You were going to say, ‘Nance, I’ve never been in your drawers,’ weren’t you?”
    “Not after the Father Dolan story.”
    “Good. Maybe you are educable after all.”
    “So we’re here to look at bedroom furniture.”
    “Among other things. Come on, this is the preview time.”
    “Oh boy, oh boy.”
    We walked slowly past tables against the other walls of the room with junk on them that reminded me a lot of the tables with the tuna sandwiches. There was red glass and blue glass and broken glass. There were old milk bottles emblazoned with the names of dairies long out of business and old comic books with the cover art of superheroes long out of favor. Ladies’ hats with veils and feathers in the colors and workmanship of the twenties and thirties rested next to helmets of the armies from both world wars. The furniture ranged from vinyl kitchen chairs to lacquered Chinese cabinets.
    Nancy had her eye on a pair of maple bureaus, but she shook her head and made a note in her program. Then she spotted a gigantic one in mahogany with brass handles. It stood on curved, carved legs and probably had about twenty pounds on her Honda. Nancy opened all the drawers and examined the joints and tapped on the bottoms. She tried to rock the thing at the top. Didn’t budge.
    There were three other dressers. Nancy opened the drawers and examined and tapped, but without the same spirit she’d shown for the mahogany. I had the feeling she was sold, and I prayed God for other bidders to have deeper pockets.
    As we made our way back to the folding chairs, I said, “Don’t you think you ought to measure the thing?”
    “The mahogany one?”
    “Yes.”
    “No, that’d be too obvious. Besides, I thought I’d put it on the long wall in my bedroom.”
    “Nance, I meant toward it fitting in the back of the car.”
    “Not to worry. I have a good sense for that sort of thing. You see anything you like?”
    “Just the sandwiches.”
    A stony stare as she sat down. “Can you spring for a couple? I want to save my pennies toward the bidding.”
    “Pepsi or Sprite?”
    “I always prefer an un-cola with poultry or fish.”
    I went to the rear tables and decided I should show a little more enthusiasm for our venture. Back at the chairs with the sandwiches and drinks, I said, “Got you two napkins.”
    “Thanks.”
    As I sat down and she took a bite of her tuna, I said, “You know, this was the first meal we ever shared.”
    Nancy looked up from the program in her lap. “You remember that?”
    “Your office, when you were arraigning Joey D’Amico, and I was there for the insurance company on the arson.” Her eyes got soft. “I can still see you that day, even exactly what you wore.”
    I thought about closing my eyes for effect, but decided that I liked the effect in front of me better. “You had your hair longer then, pulled back into a bun. Gray suit, just two pieces, jacket and skirt.”
    Nancy smiled the great smile. “You know what I thought about you that day?”
    “I know you made a pass at me.”
    “But you said you weren’t ready yet.”
    “I wasn’t.”
    “I know. That’s what—”
    “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to tonight’s showing. My name is Hank Jeffers, and I’ll be acting as auctioneer.”
    Jeffers was a round little guy standing on a box behind a podium so that you could see his head, shoulders, and the saddle and sleeves of a loud sports jacket. “There will be no reserve on any lot number unless it is so indicated in your program. Please be sure to read the other rules listed in the program before you bid by raising in your right hand the card with your number on it.”
    There didn’t seem to be a sequence to the things brought out. It took me ten minutes of reading the program to realize that items in a given category, say bone china, were sprinkled throughout. I guessed that was to encourage each component of the crowd to arrive early and stay late,