The Auctioneer by Joan Samson Read Free Book Online

before.
    Confronted with the new couch, Ma looked a little alarmed. Perly helped her to her feet. “If it’s not right,” he soothed, “we’ll take it back and keep on watching till the right one comes along.” While Perly watched, Ma sat herself on the new couch with the help of her canes, then she got herself up out of it. Then she sat down on it again, and burst into a full smile. “Why, you’re right, Perly Dunsmore,” she said. “I never noticed it myself. But I can get out of this ever so much easier, and I can get into it without fallin the last little way like I been doin’ these past few years. It always jars me so.” She got up and down again. “Well, I’ll be,” she said. And you know, I think I can set here easier too. It don’t tilt me back so much.”
    “Well, I have to hand it to you,” Mim said to Perly, still thinking the new couch was not so pretty as the old one. “We none of us ever even noticed.”
    “Your own never do,” Ma said.
    Perly stood in the doorway with his arms folded and accepted their comments. “Sometimes a new set of eyes...” he said, and lit up with a beaming smile.
    “Well, I do thank you, Perly,” Ma said, in a glow with pleasure. He went over and took the hand she offered in both of his.
     
    In silence, John helped Gore carry the couch down the front path to the truck. Gore wedged it securely into the end of the truck bed and padded it with a couple of tattered quilts.
    “You got no new tales this week?” John said. “It’s amazin’.”
    Gore leaned on the couch where it rested in the truck, its bright slipcover hidden now. He fished in his pocket for matches. “Come round to the house, you’re lookin’ for talk. You know there’s always some of the old bunch around on a Sunday. But you never was one to come round much.”
    “Thought Perly’d got you all tied up these days,” John said.
    “Nope,” Gore said. “Things’re about the way they always been, exceptin’ the auctions on Saturdays.” He climbed out of the truck and glanced up at the attic window.
    Dunsmore appeared in the doorway with the women. Even Ma had struggled to the door with her canes to say goodbye.
    “Well, thank you,” John said as he approached the truck. “That was nice of you.”
    “My pleasure,” Perly said. “Your mother’s quite a woman. She’s really a symbol of what this country stands for. I can see that.”
    John stood with his arms folded, watching the auctioneer. Perly’s motions were quick and easy, a little too quick and easy, John thought with a twinge of dislike.
    Gore climbed into the truck. Perly opened the door on the passenger side and held out his hand to John. “See you next week,” he said.
    John placed his hand in the other man’s momentarily. “What for?” he asked as the strong hand gripped his.
    Perly cocked an eyebrow. “Well the auctions aren’t over,” he said. “Someone will be around.”
    “Like you said,” Gore announced from his high seat. “We got enough cops for a circus now. Got to keep them busy.
    Smiling, Perly pulled the door shut and Gore stepped hard on the accelerator.
    “Hey!” John cried, but the truck was backing and turning, so that he had to move aside to let it pass.
     
    Mim was mending overalls on the treadle sewing machine in the front room. From where she sat, she could watch Hildie on the lawn struggling to do cartwheels, tumbling over and over and over.
    John and Ma sat with her, waiting for the seven o’clock news to begin.
    “He has a way about him that makes you feel like gettin up and doin’ things, Perly does,” Mim said. I like to think its not us that’s left behind, but just the other way around.”
    “Well, I guess if it sets you to mendin’, it can’t be a total loss,” John said.
    “My but he was pleased with hisself about that couch,” Ma said, running her hand over the worn red plush. “Didn’t it seem to you that he was halfway settin’ on hisself to keep from bustin’