9. STUCK WITH YOU

I stare at him. His vase. I do not know why the vase on my study table is not the first thing I think about. My mind is still on shutters and the apparent importance of closing them while the sun is shining because the neighbour said a storm is coming.

His eyes grow narrower and I can hear him breathing. This man is furious.

A gust of wind blows a bunch of leaves into my house. I look down at my feet where most of the leaves came to lay still.

"Aww" I can see I am going to have a leaf problem in this house.

The gust of wind suddenly becomes stronger and more persistent. The man pushes into the house and closes the door behind him. I am sure he did this just in time because the wind outside sounds even worse now.

I lift my hand holding my phone. I am not sure it would help if I call anyone now. I am kind of in the middle of nowhere and the man is already inside my house. He sees the phone in my hand and lifts both his hands as if he wants to assure me that he is harmless.

"You do not need to call anyone. I just need my vase back." He sounds calmer now. I take a few steps back to put some distance between us. He takes a deep breath and gives a deep sigh.

"I am not sure which vase you are talking about" I tell him honestly.

There was a whole section of the house filled with vases. I sold all of them.

"You posted a picture of a white vase with white hand painted detail on it on the internet a day or so ago. It is my vase and I need it back." I can hear he is trying to keep his voice calm.

"Oh, that one. You can have it back, by all means." I turn to walk to the study. I put my phone down on the table and pick the vase up gently, making sure not to drop it. As I walk out of the study back to the front door, I am stunned to see the state of the man standing in front of my front door.

His mount is agape. His eyes are bulging out. He looks at me with utter shock. It seems he wants to run to the vase but his feet are stuck in one place. He really does look like he is going to have a heart attack any moment.

"Why are you touching it?!" he is screaming at me. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and another from his coat pocket and practically runs to me to take the vase from my hands. He removes it from my hands as if it will disintegrate any moment. He walks awkwardly towards the dining room table and places the vase as close to the centre of the table as possible with the utmost care.

He turns back to me and sighs a sigh of relief like one would if you almost fell off a building but didn't by sheer luck.

I look at him with a stunned expression. I have never seen anything like this in my life. Thank heavens he wasn't here when I packed and shipped everything in this house.

"It is very valuable. You cannot touch it with your bare hands." He sounds apologetic. He must be offering this information as an apology for his behaviour. I nod at him.

"You may go now" I tell him in a firm voice. Trying to stand my ground but not be rude. It sounds rude all the same.

"Actually, I cannot" he says while rocking on his heels. He is clearly uncomfortable with this situation.

I raise my eyebrows. I do not say a word but he hears the question.

"Well, there is a really serious storm outside and I cannot just carry this vase outside without the right packaging." He looks worriedly at the vase.

I know full well that he means the vase should be packaged with great care and nothing I have in here would suffice. I decide to make fun of him anyway.

"Some newspaper, a box and tape!" I turn to walk away, not really intending on getting any of it.

"Oh, heavens woman. No!" he is practically yelling again. I turn around to smile at him.

"This vase should be transported by a specific company. They specialise in transporting very rare and delicate antiques." He holds an open hand towards the vase. "Honestly it kills me to see it on a table."

"It's a knock off." I tell him in a flat voice.

"Lady, you do not know what you are saying. This vase has never been replicated. It is an original art piece and it is as old as time." The way he speaks of the vase makes me think of Shakespeare.

"So, you are going to wait here until the transporting specialists can come to take your flower pot back to your house?"

The shock on his face is priceless and well worth it. I don't mind acting dumb to make this man suffer. My apparent stupidity seems to be the worst thing that could happen to him in a lifetime. Oh, no, my apparent stupidity holding his antique vase in my bare hands, seems to be the worst thing that could happen to him in a lifetime.

He sighs an exasperated sigh and shakes his head in disbelief.

"There is no way anyone would come here while there is a storm of this magnitude brewing." He states with a dismissive tone.

That is now just fantastic. I am stuck with him until the storm clears?

Just as the thought that it couldn't possibly last more than a few hours cross my mind the sound of the wind howling outside increases. Anything that is not tied down outside is either falling over or blowing away aby now.

He sees me looking at the door and figures out that I have no idea what type of storm this is.

"This storm could last days." He answers my unspoken question.

"Well then, I guess we should introduce ourselves?" I look him in the eye. I need to speak louder for the noise coming from outside. "I am Lubelle. I live here and I am apparently an antique thief"

"I already know who you are. I had to find you to get my vase back." He sighs, "My name is Brent. Brent Michaels" He holds out his hand for me to shake but puts it away when he sees I am not going to.

The lights flicker. He looks very worriedly at the vase.

"May we please wrap it to keep it safe."

"What do you need to wrap it?" I ask. My voice sounding flat and annoyed. I didn't mean for it to sound that way.

"Anything you have that may protect it."

I walk to the upstairs study to collect a box of packaging I found in there. It has some of the soft paper the delft plates were wrapped in. It also has bubble wrap and Styrofoam beads. When I give him the box he looks as if he just received his first car. He turns and gently wraps the soft paper around the vase. He fills the vase with the beads and wraps it again with the bubble wrap. He then pours beads into the bottom of the box and places the wrapped vase on top of it before covering the vase with more beads. He closes the box and gently places a piece of tape over it. The tape is merely to keep the flaps closed as there is no way this vase will be shipped in its current packaging.

He hands me the leftover packaging and I take it back to the upstairs study.

I return finding a much friendlier Brent in my living area. He has moved the boxed and wrapped vase to a safer place in the house.

"I am going to make coffee before the power goes completely" I tell Brent as I walk past him. "Would you like some?"

"Tea, if you have it" he looks as out of place as he sounds. I am sure I look like a peasant to him. He has that tone in his voice that comes from growing up rich.

"I have some"

I fill the kettle and put it on. After I made the coffee and tea, I put the cups down on the small table in the kitchen. I take a seat at the table and he joins me without being invited. I am glad that he didn't need to be invited. I did not invite him into my house and I am now stuck with him. He is not a guest. He is more of an unfortunate incident.

"I do have a few questions if you do not mind me asking" The unfortunate incident utters as I take the first sip of my coffee.