8. AN UNFRIENDLY STRANGER

I stare at the vase in front of me. I researched it thoroughly. It is a genuine piece and it is wort a lot of money.

Why would a street merchant have it?

I remember the news article about the spoon I sold. I didn't know the history of the piece. The buyer knew it was a lost item when he bought it. He probably buys every single one of those he can find in the hope that the lost original would surface. It worked well.

I take a picture of the vase. I will not advertise it to sell. I will merely post it to see what interest it brings forth.

I list the picture on an antique site. The response is almost immediate. People who are interested in antiques know what it is immediately. Some tell a piece of the history of the item. Others speculate what happened to it during the time when it was lost. Others tell the story of when it was found.

The history of the piece is a lot more interesting than any other piece I have seen before.

I put the vase neatly to one side. Making sure that it would not accidentally fall off the table.

I lock all the doors and go up to the first floor. After a long bath, crawl into bed and fall asleep almost immediately.

The next morning, I wake up thinking about the old woman and the man in the pictures. If you can only go back forty years, how did they manage to go back to 1940 every time to take the same picture.

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling and listening to the wind outside. This is the first morning I hear the wind blow like this. I get up and put on a thick jacket and jeans and go downstairs. I make myself a cup of coffee and sit at the small table without opening the door. The wind will only blow leaves into the house and I will be forced to clean it.

I hear a knock on the kitchen door. It could only be Frank. For some reason I only always see Frank through the kitchen door which leaves me to believe he lives on this side of the house. It is now Frank's side. I smile at the thought as I open the door. I smile more when I see Frank.

"I am worried about your windows miss. You have not closed the shutters." Frank stands with his hat in his hand. He does look very nervous. I almost feel sorry for him. I do not know what he is talking about. I have never lived in a house before. I have always rented a small flat in the city. I was used to having one or two windows that always overlooked another building across a busy street.

"I did not know that I had to close the shutters, Frank." His look turns even more worried as I finish my sentence.

"Please allow me to close them for you" Frank asks almost pleadingly.

"Of course, I would appreciate that. Can I make you a cup of coffee?" I offer to Frank as he puts his hat on and starts to immediately close the shutters of the small window next to the kitchen door.

"Thank you, that would be great."

As I make another cup of coffee, I notice the leaves blowing into the house. I sigh and shake my head. I always thought shutters were decorative things next to the windows on the outside of the house. Apparently, they serve a purpose.

It takes frank about fifteen minutes to close all the shutters around the house.

"I am only worried about the stained-glass tree in the attic." Frank says as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Frank seems to know the house very well. The fact that he is worried about my inability to take care of the house is another indication that he cares more for it than a neighbour should.

"How long have you lived here Frank?" I ask as we drink our coffee.

"All my life. I was born in that house where I am staying now." Frank points into the trees. I cannot see the house past the trees and also know that I would probably never wander that far from the house to see it.

"Have you always helped the old lady with her house shutters when a storm comes?"

"Yes, I have. She didn't move about much, some times she would be gone for weeks. I would take care of her house for her. She would bring me baked goods and I would run errands for her." Frank explains to me.

"Oh, well, I am not much of a baker. I will have to find another kind of treat for you but please do tell me when I am neglecting to do something to take care of this old house." I tell Frank. He beams at me at the thought of taking care of the house. He must have a real love for this place.

Frank finishes his coffee and sets his cup in the sink. He thanks me for the coffee and leaves to go back to his own place. Before he goes, he warns me to keep my curtains drawn and to stay warm. The storm will last a few days.

After he goes, I clean up the leaves I didn't want blowing into the house. I walk with the scoop and brush to the front door to throw the leaves out there. I do not want to open the kitchen door again and have more leaves blow into the house.

I walk the few steps to the end of the porch and tip the scoop over the rail. I walk back into the house but as I turn to close the door, I see a vehicle pull up to the front of the house. I stand watching the vehicle. I did not order anything and neither did I request for the courier to come pick anything up.

A man gets out of the vehicle and closes the door. He stands next to his vehicle and stares at me. I look at him and think how I didn't comb my hair or replace my thick comfy slippers with decent shoes. I must really look the part of a recluse.

He pulls his thick calf length jacket tighter around his body and starts walking towards the front door. He looks upset. I do not know if I can deal with an upset individual today. I haven't had any other human contact other than Frank and the courier guy for the past few weeks.

He climbs the few steps to my porch slowly and comes to stand right in front of me. I would still be able to close the door in his face should I have to. I feel a bit nervous looking at him. He does seem a bit angry and I have no idea why.

"Good day." I greet him. My voice sounds more unsure than I thought it would. He does not greet me in return. He just stands there watching me. His eyes are narrowed and his mouth is set in a thin hard line. I do not know this man at all but it looks like he is putting everything he has into containing himself.

"Can I help you?" I ask him in a soft voice. I do not think I can help him. I would really regret offering to help him if helping him means I need to leave the house. He doesn't answer me. He just looks at me with his cold expression.

"Okay then, have a great day." I tell him as I take a step back into the house and close the door.

I stand on the inside of the house listening if I can hear his footsteps move off the porch. It doesn't. He just stands there.

I would definitely put this in the books as a strange encounter. I open the door a bit and peek through the small opening. He is still there. He still has the same expression on his face except that his eyes are maybe now narrower than it was before. Could it be that I actually made him even angrier? How is that even possible. I did absolutely nothing. I close the door quickly and walk to the kitchen. I try to remember where I put my phone down. I go to the study and find it.

Just before I can dial Charlie's number, I hear a knock on the door. My inner sarcastic self makes me ask out loud.

"Oh, who on earth could that be?"

I walk to the front door, knowing full well Mr Grumpy is still standing on my porch glaring at my front door.

I open the door slowly and look him in the eye. I decide to greet him as if this is an entirely new encounter.

"Good day." I greet him with a friendly voice and add a smile for effect.

He glares at me. His mouth thins into an even thinner line.

"You have my vase"