“I already paid her husband,” he explained over the phone.
“I understand,” I replied. “But the equipment wasn’t his to sell.”
After learning about the disagreement, the buyer agreed not to collect anything until the matter was resolved.
For the first time that morning, I could breathe a little easier.
At least Dad’s workshop wasn’t disappearing that day.
But when we opened unit B-17, I realized Dereck had already begun removing things.
The familiar smell of sawdust, cardboard, and furniture polish greeted me.
El gran banco de trabajo de papá todavía estaba contra la pared trasera.
Su caja de herramientas azul descansaba cerca de una pila de armarios.
But several shelves contained empty spaces.
Mom noticed them too.
“Wasn’t his smaller tool chest supposed to be there?”
“Yes.”
I checked another shelf.
Dad’s favorite hand planes were missing.
So was the wooden box containing his measuring instruments.
