Page 66 of Code Name: Reaper
“Wow.” He gasped a second time. “I didn’t know anyone made purple bathtubs. Or toilets. Or sinks.” He turned in a circle. Yes, everything in the room was the same color—or similar—even the linoleum on the floor.
“I can see why you don’t want to sell it.”
“Because no one would want to buy it?”
“It’s like a seventies’ time capsule,” he joked.
“You’re wrong. You must not have noticed the appliances in the kitchen were white and none of the rooms have shag carpeting.”
“You got me there. But this…I’m in awe.” He waved his arm in a circle.
“Shut up. Let’s go.”
“What’s that way?” he asked when I went in the direction of the staircase.
“Two more bedrooms. Nothing quite like mine was, though.”
“Was one your dad’s?”
“Probably. Now, come on. The attic is way more interesting.”
He followed me up the stairs to a wooden door that had a latch instead of a handle.
“This is the least spooky attic I’ve ever seen,” Reaper said when we walked in and I pulled the string that turned on a single light bulb.
The space was primarily filled with old furniture my grandfather had refinished but didn’t have a place to put. There were three dressers, two cedar chests, and a chair I’d always wanted in my room, but there wasn’t enough space for it.
Reaper rested his hand on it. “Do you know what this is worth?”
“I do. It’s priceless.”
His cheeks flushed. “Sorry, and you’re right. I keep putting my foot in it.”
“Nothing new to me.” I winked. “But seriously, you’re fine.”
“May I?” He pointed to one of the dresser drawers.
“Go ahead. I doubt there’s anything in them.”
“You’re wrong.”
I crept over, almost afraid to look. “Photos?”
“Loads of them.”
They were loose, as if someone had dumped a boxful in and then closed it. I picked one up, then gently sifted through the rest. Most looked like black-and-white Polaroids.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
I studied the photo, but the man and woman in it weren’t my grandparents and I didn’t recognize them. I turned it over, but it was blank. Reaper picked several more and checked. Nothing was written on those either.
He walked over to the other dresser. “Think there’s more?”
“I’d say I doubted it, but I didn’t know these were in here, so, maybe.”
He opened the top drawer. “Yep, but these are framed, so there’s a lot less.” He took one out. “This one looks like you if you were a time traveler.” He handed it to me.
“The photo looks too old for it to be my mom, but I’ve seen pictures of my grandma, and this isn’t her.”
