_Sweeper_ Part 10
There was a elderly estate wagon in the driveway.
An extension ladder in the entry.
A gallon of “Sahara Sand” paint.
And . . . a brick red . . . stretched canvas? Three foot by four?
Volo contemplated the collection. “The paint, I understand.”
“Do you?”
He looked up at the strange voice. A gray-haired old woman, thin and smiling, looking over the railing at him.
“You must be Volo. I’m Mrs. Devi . . . well, technically Lady Yeseniya Devi. I’m Leo’s old Art teacher. For the Secondary students, we didn’t put on airs. Leo and I ran into each other this morning, and we’ve been having a grand reunion, ever since.”
“Ah . . . a pleasure to meet you? I’m Volodya Isidor Ignorov. Is Leo . . .”
“Almost done painting his room. It’s . . . quite interesting, when an artist gets to paint his own room.” She caught the direction of his gaze. “The ladders? I had them in a storage unit with a lot of things that just couldn’t fit in my little apartment. Leo said I could keep them here and save a little money. A teacher’s pension doesn’t stretch very far. And he said you needed the ladders.”
“Yes.” He glanced back out the door. “How did you get them here?”
“Oh, they didn’t stick out that far! A red rag on the end, and Leo with his weight on the front and we were good for the short distance.”
Volo blinked. “I . . . you know, I’m very glad Leo found an old friend.” He headed up the stairs. “So, what does a . . . young artist do to his own room?”
“Oh, come and see. Such a bold color!”
A deep emerald green.
“Damn. Now that’s definitely individualized.”
Leo was up on a stepladder, finishing the top edge. “Hi, Volo! Might be a little dark. I’ll see how it looks when it’s all done.”
Volo nodded. “Yeah, maybe beige blinds on the windows?”
“I was thinking pale wood trim. Something like that.”
“So . . . your art teacher?”
“Yeah. She needs room to paint. She’s a real artist. Famous!”
“Wait . . . Yeseniya Devi? The Yeseniya Devi? The Perihelion Yeseniya Devi? The Star Fall Yeseniya Devi?” Volo gawped down at the little old lady as she nodded.
“Ah . . . How old are you?”
“Six hundred and, umm forty-two years? I’m Diomid Devi’s aunt, you see. We all live such a long time.” She beamed up at Leo. “And just when you think you’re ready to finally go, you run into a budding talent and feel young all over again.”
“I told her she could live here.” Leo looked around, trying for firm and fading into uncertainty.
“Absolutely . . . although you might want to wait until we have more bathrooms and a hot water heater.”
The old lady cackled. “Oh, so typical of artists. Irregular living arrangements are very nearly required to be a real artist!
Volo snickered. “Well, I hate to tell you this, but I’m trying to get the house to normal and ordinary as quickly as I can afford it . . . but we haven’t any plans for the southeast suite. A resident famous artist . . . sounds about right. So, umm, have you seen it? You may design your own bathroom, although I’ll warn you, we’ll be doing it bit-by-bit and . . .”
“As you can afford it.” She beamed at him. “At my age, I need a shower with a seat in it. So I shan’t be asking for some outrageous whirlpool sauna nonsense. What I need is good light for painting.”
“And I have plenty of paint left!” Leo climbed down the ladder, grinning.
“And I might let you paint one accent wall!”
Volo grinned. “I have to work tomorrow, but if I can finish patching one side of the entry tonight, we can see how that Sahara Sand color looks.”
***
“Wow! Progress.”
Volo looked down from the extension ladder. “Good morning, Irina. Yes, and apart from a lack of hot water, we have one working bathroom, and the first floor southeast is about to become an artist’s studio.”
“Artist’s studio?”
“Leo’s old art teacher. Lady Yeseniya Devi. Go see what they’re up to.”
He looked down after a moments silence.
“Irina?”
“Surely you don’t mean . . .”
“Sure do.” He ran out of space within reach of his brush and climbed down. “Come meet her.”
Lady Yes had drafted them to shift the rest of her “stuff” from the storage unit, so the big suite had some random furniture. “Old stuff I couldn’t bring myself to sell, but had no room for.” Art supplies, and boxes of books, clothes, and household stuff.
“I ought to have just thrown half of it away, but . . . the storage is cheap enough to keep dreams and memories.”
And now she was lining out in chalk, where she wanted her cabinets and shower. “Since the drain and water pipes are right there. But instead of a tub, a nice roomy shower, with a bench here, and foot rest right there so I don’t have to bend so far to scrub my toes.”
Leo looked over and grinned. “Hi, Miss Irina. We have another possible resident. Mrs. Devi? Miss Irena . . . Oh.”
Irena looked stunned.
Lady Yes, cocked her head. “Irena . . . you’d be Ilariy Tikhon’s youngest girl? I’m afraid I’m starting to lose track of the great great nieces and nephews.”
Irena nodded. “I had no idea . . .”
Lady Yes grinned. “I know. Even everyone knowing how old Diomid is, his father’s oldest sister still hanging around surprises people.” She shrugged, ruefully. “And sometimes it’s easier to let people drift away, so it doesn’t hurt to out-live so many of them.”
Irena nodded. “So . . .” a glance over at the stack in the center of the room. A big artist’s easel prominent. “You still paint?”
“Oh, I just retired from two part time teaching positions-NMCC and Kastan Secondary-and downsized, moved into a small apartment . . . stashed a bunch of stuff in a storage unit.” A rueful shrug. “It wasn’t working well. Then I ran into Leo, who was my most talented student . . . and here I am.”
Irina nodded. “I’m working for Intel. Three of us are going to fix up the second floor on the other side, and move in.”
Volo nodded. “By which time I might have the entry looking like a home instead of a disaster.” He gave them all a casual wave and head back to the entry. A little levitation helped in shifting the ladder.
Once I get the top edge done, I can swap to the roller with the extension and get ‘er done. Then start some patch work on the other side.
And the estate wagon was so handy. Three sheets of wall board, and the rest of the entry was ready to plaster and paint.
Back to work for a week, studying the changes as the Japanese territory showed signs of calming down and getting back to a new sort of normal economy.
***
Volo scowled at the chalked out lines of the future bathroom fixtures. “This would be easier if I had more rocks.”
“Rocks?” Lady Yes turned away from staring at the blank canvas on her easel.
“I’m not as good with rocks as I am with wood. But just flattening them down into a smooth surface is moderately easy.”
“Hmm, pity Laz isn’t still around. He’s a potter, but also did a lot of stone work, and he was always complaining about have to pay to have all the chiseled off rock hauled away. Let me call and see if they still have any. He left his shop and house to a pair of his adopted children.”
She pulled out a phone and tapped. “Hans? Yes, I thought I recognized your voice. Do you still have those piles of chipped stone, or . . . oh good. May I come get some? I’ve met a fellow who works with stone and is trying to make me a shower.” A pause, then she laughed. “Certainly! We’re at 18000 21000.”
Two hours later he was helping a pair of NMCC students unload chunks of rock. Mostly marble, some slate, some dark basalt . . .
“I hope you don’t want a colorful shower.” Volo grinned at the way she was laying out the flatish pieces in a loose mosaic. “If that’s the back panel you’re laying out, it’ll be like showering in a thunderstorm.”
“Exactly!”
Volo grinned. “Artists!” He scooped up a trio of dark shards slashed to get a square corner on each, then stuck them in a corner of the future shower. One flat on the concrete foundation, one against the left side, on against the back wall. Pulled power and recrystallized them into a single solid piece partly grown into the concrete floor and the cement panels he’d put up, thinking to tile over them.
“Now isn’t that interesting.” Lady Yes knelt to poke at the stone. “Barely warm.”
“That’s how Laz does the finish work.” Ian stared at the corner, then at Volo. “Can you show us how?”
“Yeah.” Hans was grinning. “He’d chop out the rough shape, then just . . . I could see it, but I couldn’t do it. Last year.”
“We’re getting stronger every year.” Ian looked back at Lady Yes’s mosaic. “Will you even need to grout?”
“No, I’ll meld them all together, and into the cement panels. I’ll get the floor pretty smooth-not slippery smooth, though. and sloped slightly so it drains. The walls will be a little rougher. Probably.” He grinned. “It’s been a few years since I did much stone work, so once I get going, I’ll probably be stronger than I was, back then.”
“What?” Leo looked indignant. “You mean it never stops?”
“By fifty it’s slowed down to where it’s as good as stopped.” Volo grinned. “Stop worrying, your glow’s building, and still spiky from the concussion. Another three weeks and then I’ll start giving you some specific exercises.”
Hans straightened. “Oh! You’re that kid! Hey, you need help, come to us.”
Ian nodded. “The dechipped kid? No kidding. We’re both servant’s kids, grew up knowing we’d be turned into powerless, stupid . . . then Laz bought us and adopted us. You? You’re like . . . a miracle. Like maybe there’s hope for our older sibs, our friends . . .”
Volo nodded. “Girlfriends.” He shut his mouth firmly and started fitting rocks to slope down to the drain. The few big chunks of rock were sliced and shaped into a bench. some consultation as to height and placement, and there was a foot rest.
Then the sides, melding rocks to the walls and each other and it was indeed a wrap around thunderstorm.
Another week. Playing with the remaining rocks, and getting them shaped into a counter top and sink.
Close to payday . . . he bought two toilets. One hot water heater. Installed them all, and helped Lady Yes move in.
“I feel young, living in a construction zone.”
A paycheck. A big chunk to the credit card.
Shoring up the garage, and getting Lady Yes’s car under cover before they were snowed in for the first weekend of December.