Chapter 10 #2
I opened the package that had been on the porch, examining the furniture lifters.
I read the instructions, feeling excited.
Once I was done with my work, I would attempt to move the armoire.
I had measured it already, and if I could move it, it would fit at the end of the hall facing the door.
That was where it belonged. I could paint the wall where it presently sat and buy a nice hall table.
I planned on a pretty bowl for keys and sundries, plus a small lamp. It would look great.
I didn’t want to ask Jesse for help. I was used to doing things on my own, and if it didn’t work, I could return the items or use them another time. It would be a surprise for him the next time he came over as well.
I sat down, putting on my headphones, and got to work.
A few hours later, I lifted my head, shocked as usual at how much time had gone by. But I had gotten a lot done, including a surprise phone call from a prospective client here in town. I agreed to come to their office and meet with them next week to discuss their needs.
I stood and stretched, going to the kitchen and making a sandwich that I ate standing over the sink.
I drank some water, refilling the glass and adding ice.
I thought about taking Jesse his lasagna, but I wasn’t sure he was back from his volunteer work.
With my headphones on, I wouldn’t have heard his truck, and I couldn’t see if it was parked in its usual place unless I walked over to his side of the house.
He knew it was here, so if he wanted it before dinner, he would no doubt show up for it.
I went into the living room, unpacking the furniture lifts.
I slid them under one side of the armoire after emptying it of the few items I had hung inside.
I also removed the shelves to make it a little lighter.
On my knees, I squeezed the handles, frowning when nothing happened.
Remembering the instructions, I did them at the same time to keep the weight even.
I was about to give up when I felt the shift, and the heavy piece inched up a little.
I squealed in delight and kept slowly pumping up the jacks until the armoire was about two inches off the floor—high enough I could slide the furniture mover under the one side.
I went to the other side and did the same thing, beyond excited my idea was going to work. Once I had the armoire on the movers, I stood back, panting a little. It was a heavy piece of furniture, and it had taken all the strength in my hands to get it off the floor.
I sat on the sofa and drank the water I had poured earlier, planning my next move.
I had to pull the armoire away from the wall, turn it slightly, and push it back to the end.
It was the turn I was unsure about. I didn’t want to cause any rocking or pull it the wrong way, triggering it to topple.
I thought about waiting for Jesse to come home and asking him for help, then decided I would try on my own.
But if it didn’t go well, I would wait. I was feeling hot and sweaty, so I pulled off my shirt, leaving my cotton camisole in place.
It was old, thin, and stretched out of shape, but the cool air felt good on my overheated skin.
I approached the armoire and checked the balance, pleased to see it felt fairly solid.
Moving it took everything I had. Inch by inch, I pulled it away from the wall.
One side, then another, then back. Once it was far enough away, I slipped behind it, ignoring the dust bunnies and dirt buildup under it, and used my legs to help push it away.
It took a long time, but I finally got it far enough from the wall that I could try turning it.
Slowly, I managed. Then again, inch by inch, I slid it toward the back, only to realize that while it fit perfectly, I had no way to lift it off the sliders I had it on.
I frowned and decided one of two things.
I could leave it on the rollers so it could be moved.
There was a locking mechanism so that it would be safe.
Or I could use the jacks on the front and hope to wiggle the sliders out.
I blew out a long huff of air and decided I needed to sit down and let my energy build back up.
I got more water and a protein bar and sat on the sofa looking at the now-empty wall. It made the entranceway look so much bigger and brighter. Once I painted it to match this room, it would be perfect. I’d have to ask Jesse if he had any more of this paint.
Once I didn’t feel as exhausted, I got the broom and swept years of dust from the floor where the armoire had been.
Jesse was right—the wood was indented where it had sat for years, and I wondered why that had been chosen as the spot.
Even another ten inches to the right and it would have looked better.
I got the mop and washed the spot I had swept, pleased to see the floor was in good shape.
The baseboards needed touching up, but?—
I stopped, frowning. There was a long gap of about three feet with no baseboards.
I stepped back, studying the wall. I traced what I had thought was a crack, realizing it was too perfect.
I narrowed my eyes, peering at the wall.
The crack ran up the wall on one side and right where the baseboard was missing, down the other side.
I could discern an interconnecting line at the top.
“It’s a door,” I breathed out. “There’s a door here.”
I recalled Lou telling my mother the family who’d originally owned the house had lived here with their daughter until she married later in life. They must have had a door that opened to both sides here. When it was closed off, they put the armoire in place to hide that fact.
Where did it lead? Was there a wall behind the door? Did it lead into a closet at Jesse’s? Did he know about the door?
I was so excited, I almost missed it. A flat pull that extended slightly from the edge of the door.
I gripped it, but it stuck. Unfazed, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a pair of pliers, returning and pulling on the tiny piece of metal that stuck out.
It was barely noticeable since it had been covered with paint, but once I tugged on it a bit, I could make out the old brass.
I pulled and pulled and was about to give up when the door opened with a low creak. I fell on my ass, staring at the now-open door. It led to?—
Nothing.
A blank wall met my gaze.
I frowned. “Why cover this up if it goes nowhere?” I asked, disappointed.
I leaned forward, feeling around the wall. My fingers found a slight indent, and I got excited again. There was another door. I hesitated, knowing it must lead into Jesse’s place. I should probably go and see if he was home and show him.
But curiosity made me bold, and I decided just to check if it would open first.
Assuming it was as stuck as the first one, I stepped back, flexed my shoulders, and pushed my arms forward.
I rushed toward it, not expecting it to open with ease.
But it flew open, crashing into something beside it.
I found myself falling into piles of cloth.
I twisted and turned, spinning out of control, crashing forward, grasping at mysterious soft items, stumbling over objects on the floor.
I yelped as something caught on my camisole, and I heard the material tear.
I was grateful when I hit another wall, leaning on it, panting and confused, hearing Miller barking like crazy.
I had to be in a closet at the front of Jesse’s place, but where?—
I gasped loudly as the wall I was leaning on suddenly disappeared, and I fell forward, my arms flailing as I reached for something to break my fall.
I grabbed a handful of damp material, the cotton stopping my face from hitting the floor.
I groaned into the fabric, rolling over to find Jesse staring down at me, shocked and confused, a fireplace poker in his hand.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then Jesse let out a growl the likes of which I had never heard before.
“What. The. Fuck?”
I gazed up at him, transfixed.
Two things became very apparent.
One: Jesse was home and had been in the shower.
Two: It was his towel I had grabbed, and now he stood over me, wet, dripping—and naked.