kitchen.
“Martha Torkelsen kept a clean stove and fridge,” Mrs. Bills observed, “but the house has been shut up for almost six months now. You know where you want the furniture placed?”
“Pretty much,” Tim said.
“Do you have carpets?” she wanted to know.
He nodded. “Too many for this house, I’m afraid. I had them cleaned and wrapped before the movers came. I had the cleaner mark the sizes on the wrapping.”
“Good,” she said. “They can unload the carpets first. I’ll tell you which one will fit the living room, which one your bedroom. What are you going to do in the old dining room? Will you need a carpet in there? And what about a runner for this hall? The floors will be ruined if they don’t have a runner.”
“I’m going to use the smaller room as a study,” he said. “And no, I don’t have a runner. Is there somewhere I can go and purchase one?”
“I’ll take you myself as soon as the movers have left,” Mrs. Bills said firmly.
When the van from the city pulled up, his angel, as Tim had begun to think of Mrs. Bills, was outside immediately, directing it to back into the driveway. And then she took complete charge of the movers. “I’ll want the carpets before you take a single thing off of that truck,” she said.
“No can do, lady,” the driver said. “Them carpets was loaded up first.”
Hands on her ample hips, Evie Bills looked up at the driver. “Now, my dear,” she said in reasonable tones, “I can’t have you bringing furniture into the house with no carpets to set them on. You’re putting the cart before the horse. I’m sure you can get those carpets out for me, and then set the rolls on the drive so Mr. Blair and I can see which go where. Some will have to go into the cellar, as this wee house isn’t as big as his apartment in New York, is it?” She smiled at him.
The van driver considered her words.
“And when you boys are finished, I’ve a nice plate of sandwiches just made, for I expect you’ve had no lunch yet, and a fresh batch of cookies I baked this morning for you,” Mrs. Bills said.
The van driver laughed. “All right,” he said. “I expect we’ll get to those sandwiches and cookies a lot faster if we do what you say, lady.”
“Indeed you will,” Mrs. Bills agreed.
“Mike! Pete! Get them carpets first, and lay the rolls in the drive. The lady will tell you where they go,” the van driver said with a chuckle.
Timothy Blair watched in amazement as Mrs. Bills handled the rough movers with all the skill of a lion tamer. The carpets were unloaded, and the cleaning woman identified which ones would fit in the three rooms needing them. None of them would clash with the upholstered furniture. One, an antique green Chinese floral, would go in the living room. A dark red-and-blue antique Persian rug was laid in his study; a beige-and-blue Oriental rug fit perfectly from wall to wall in his bedroom. The three remaining carpets were directed to the cellar.
“I’ll have Mr. Bills come in and build you some racks,” Mrs. Bills said. “Those carpets have to be off the floor. This is a good, dry basement, but still.” She then proceeded to have the furniture off-loaded into the driveway bit by bit, while Tim indicated which would go in which room. Mrs. Bills had those pieces set aside in one spot on the little front lawn. The rest of it was left in the drive.
When the truck had been completely unloaded, Mrs. Bills sent Tim back into the house so he might show the movers where the living room furniture should be placed, then his study, and finally his bedroom. The rest was taken down into the cellar for storage. Her method was surprisingly efficient and quick. When they had finished, Mrs. Bills brought the moving men sandwiches and cookies as she had promised, along with paper cups of iced tea.
The van driver said, “Hey, lady, you want to come along with us on our next job? I don’t think we ever got a truck unloaded so fast. And
Learning to Kill: Stories