Hannah picked up another box and dropped it on top of his other. He groaned slightly as his chin barely cleared the top.
“Oh yeah,” she said. “The last owner was a hoarder or something.”
She looked him over quickly, noticing for the first time his tank top and baggy sweatpants. “You really need to go change. We got a lot of shit to still do.”
Much to Scottie’s dismay, Hannah’s assessments of the Westbrooke site were pretty damn accurate as the house seemed to hold so many boxes, it could very well have stashed the Ark of the Covenant.
There was little furniture that needed to go. A table, two chairs, pots, pans, and yet no plates or glasses. All the cabinets were completely bare and looked as if they had never even been stocked. There was a single bed, but no mattress. They did have a Television, though it was an old bulky, heavy, 21-inch CRT surrounded by heaps of cables, wires, and various electrical tools.
It took two more runs for the siblings to pack up the site and offload it back home. The Delta-Beta-Kappas across the way did volunteer to help once more, but for some reason, they were less enthusiastic upon seeing Scottie.
It was close to 4pm by the time they were fully wrapped, truck returned, and back home. They loaded as many boxes as they could into the garage, but the rest went into the living room.
Hannah lumbered up to the couch and fell face-first into the soft embrace of the cushions. She let out a groan of satisfaction right into the pillows as she melted into place. Scottie paid her little attention as he opened a cardboard lid and peeked inside finding it full of pink, white, and yellow forms.
“Jeez,” he said, then called out “Hey, Hannah.”
She groaned in response.
Scottie closed the box and opened another. More papers. “I never asked, but why did Mom want the boxes brought here? Don’t they normally go to donate somewhere or the landfill or something?”
With a slight turn of her head, she said “I don’t know. Maybe they want to sell the stuff, or Dad might restore something. She didn’t say.”
“Okay, just seems weird, is all,” Scottie said. “If you think he was a hoarder, shouldn’t we be worried about pests, or something?”
His sister remained motionless as he picked up a folder and looked inside.
“Shit, I think this previous dude had some health issues,” he said.
Hannah mumbled something into the pillows.
“What?” Scottie asked.
“Alzheimer’s” she repeated, louder this time. “He passed away a few months ago so his estate went up for sale or something like that.”
“Oh dang.” He dropped the folder back where he found it, then opened another.
Hearing her brother’s incessant rummaging, she opened one eye.
“Are you gonna keep rifling through his things?”
Scottie shrugged as he peeled back the lid on another box. “Should I not? It’s part and parcel with the place, right?”
“Technically, yeah,” she said as he moved to a new trove. “Find anything good?”
He shook his head. “No, not really. Bunch of medical files and junk so far,” he said as he opened a new box.
“Oh, scratch that! Hey Hannah!” he said turning to her, holding up a large ball of tangled RCA cables. “Look! Goldmine! We can finally start that vintage TV repair business we are always talking about!” He chuckled. Sarcasm was thick with them both.