I was a part of a Facebook group for local garage and estate sales.
I had a thrifting buddy, Bianca, that I met up with to go to the suburbs with, from time to time. I don't drive and she was a broke college kid that needed help with gas money. Of all the ways to go thrifting, estate sales usually are the most fruitful and polarizing. Well, outside of going to "the bins". There seems to be a divide though, some folks would rather don masks and gloves to sort through hundreds of donations in a dirty warehouse than go into a dead stranger's home to pick through their belongings. Never mind that anyone could have met any kind of fate that lead to the donation of the Chanel skirt you couldn't believe someone would hand off to Goodwill, but I can't blame them for wanting to remain ignorant.
Bianca was always weird about going to estate sales, but that wasn't a point against her. Things at estate sales aren't priced like at a garage sale, you pick your items and then find out how much they all are when you hand the money off to the person organizing. What got her was the look on a son or daughter's face when she came up to them with something they didn't realize they would have to part with.
So as a rule, we starting going to the ritzier neighborhoods; people seemed less attached and most can afford an official notary, so there was less of a chance of trying to buy an heirloom from a grieving child.
Nicer finds, too.
It was a cooler than usual late July afternoon when we pulled up with our blended, over-sweetened coffees in hand on Astor. It took a while to find, the zip code in the listing had been a digit off. But there it was, 68 Astor Parkway; a grand, old, red brick construction with ivy and yellow roses growing up the front. I didn't bother to count them but I noticed multiple chimneys. It was obviously an older house than the others in the neighborhood, mostly McMansions along the river. I couldn't name an era, wrap-around decks aren't that common in this area. It had an anachronistic look. We stopped and admired the veranda, questioned why the widow's walk faced inland, and balked at the list price on the realtor's flyers near the bright red door.
The sale had been going for three days and when we saw we were the only ones there, assumed we'd been beaten to the best offerings.
"Did you see any other cars?" Bianca pondered tracing the polished brass knocker. "I don't think anyone's like actually here".I shrugged, "Knock and we'll find out". Before she could, the door opened. A woman in a mustard pants suit greeted us with a botox smile.
"Hello, ladies. Thanks so much for stopping by, I hope you found the place okay. You're here for the sale?" Her voice wasn't loud or unpleasant but it rang in my ears.Bianca nodded enthusiastically." Yeah, GPS gave us the run-around, but like you know, old neighborhood"
The suit gave a genuine, if not tight, smile and stepped aside to let us in.
I held up my coffee, "Would you like us to leave these in the car?"She shook her head, "Don't worry about it, just don't put them on any of the wood unless you plan on taking it home", and with that, she ushered us inside.
The foyer was filled with more natural light than I was expecting. Old houses were typically filled with smaller rooms, but the space was open. The wood floors were covered with Persian rugs, and not one but two spiral staircases lead upstairs, shiny brass, to match the knocker outside. The pale green wallpaper was old-fashioned but fresh in color and application. Bric a bracs and tchotchkes covered end tables, hutches, and the two mantles I could see. I wondered how many fireplaces there were, and if they all had unique brass handled tools to accompany them.
" I'm Holly if you need anything just give me a shout," the suit chimed, "I'm prepping for the open house, so I'll trust you two to find your way around. Should be plenty of treasures, if I had to guess, you're not the only ones who had trouble finding the place"."What do you mean?" Bianca asked before taking a sip of her cocomo. Holly bit her lip, "I haven't seen anyone all weekend," She trailed off, "Folks show up and just drive off". I grimaced, "I think the address on the listing might be off?"Holly somehow managed to raise her eyebrows, " You know I'll go check on that. Thank you for letting me know. In the meantime, good luck, if you need me I'll be in the study. Right staircase, second door", and she left us to go about our business.
