The Man from the Museum

“I'm sorry Mr. O'Niell, but my answer is still no.”



“Won't you please just reconsider a moment? A coffee set of such historical significance truly belongs to the people!” replied the portly little bald man as he pushed his glasses higher on his face with one of his pudgy fingers. 



“I don't care if Lincoln drank from this silver. I wouldn't even care if somehow Napoleon and Caesar had somehow drank from this set together!” I realized I had raised my voice to just short of shouting, and taking a quick calming breath, counted to three before continuing a little more softly. “I just know it was cherished by my Grandma Burg, and she left it to me and my sister. While I have no particular care for it, my sister has fondly spoken of the times that she and Nana sipped coffee or tea on Nana's porch every summer. When my sister returns from her trip to Europe, if she would like to sell or lease it to your museum, I would be willing to go along with her decision. Not before.” I tried to emphasize the fact that the discussion was over by thrusting his umbrella into his hands.



Mr. O'Niell reluctantly stood up, taking the hooked handle of his umbrella to his side. Casting another glance at the ornate silver set displayed on the mantle, the intricate handles of the cups, and the spoons with the initials A.B. displayed across the handles, he turned again to me and muttered, his chins flopping, “Very well. If it is your wish to hold back this treasure from those that would delight at who has held those cups, then so be it.” Sliding his hand within his coat's inner pocket, he produced another of his business cards, which he proffered to me.



Minding my manners against my impatience to get rid of the greedy little man, who always spouted about the people's need and this and that, I quickly tucked it in my pocket as I led him to the door. I barely glanced at the shiny gold embossed letters that proclaimed the man in front of me as the head of civil war acquisitions. I would throw this one away too, as I had the last 6 cards he had given me. There was always that first card stuck to the fridge.



As I started to close the door behind him he turned his face to look at me, and said “How about if we add another five thousand dollars for the set on top of our previous offer? Could that possibly mollify you for not waiting for your sister's approval?”



“My answer is final.” I said, barely containing my exasperation as I started to close the door. “Goodbye Mr. O'Niell.” I may have shut the door with a little too much force as the window at the top rattled in its frame. Looking through the half circle at the top of the door I saw the dim light momentarily obscured by the navy umbrella as Mr. O'Niell opened it. And then the light shone through again as he walked down the steps and away from my house.



Leaning my back against the door, I rubbed my hands across my face, as if trying to wipe this last encounter with that man from my mind. I just stood there, listening to the light rain tapping against the window and the thick wood, and then I decided. Making my way to the kitchen I pulled his card from the fridge Ignoring the magnetic letter N that clattered to the floor and beneath the stove, I joined it with the card I had just pulled from my pocket. Removing a lighter from the darkness of a drawer, I released it's hidden flame, and ignited the pair of cards. A curios thrill ran through me as I watched the white paper curl, blackened by the flame. The flame turned a peculiar shade of blue as it ran over the gold lettering, and I dropped the cards into the sink before the flame could reach my hand.



My sister might be upset that I had gotten rid of the cards, but let her deal with Mr. O'Niell when she returned. I knew the annoying little man would be back.