Inventory

So we had this burgeoning business. It blossomed about six years prior. We were buying and selling collectible and antique teddy bears. Hence, the name, ‘Absolutely Teddy.’ Either we got bored with the listings or we found the inventory to be scarce because we soon widened our catalog to dolls and objects of art – ‘objet d’art.’

“Hey Honey,” said John, my husband, “can you look at this auction with me?” “Yes; hang on,” I replied, while I finished feeding the dogs.

I liked looking at auctions. It’s fun to dream. However, the bummer is that it usually is just that: a dream. At least it’s usually not something my husband agrees is a profitable item on which to bid.

I pulled up a chair while my husband told me the auction house was called Richard Flannery and was based in Pennsylvania. Naturally, I jumped at the first lot on the computer screen. Madame Alexander Dolls – I had them when I was a little girl. My husband looked at me kind of sideways. “There’s a ton of Madame Alexander in this auction, so hold your horses,” John entreated.

As always, I planned to create my own dream list in my special black moleskin notebook when John left his bidding post.

It’s not a secret. He knows that my black moleskin holds specific lists for my auction desires. John left the room. I could hardly wait to get started. Scrolling through the auction, I found countless lots that appeared good for resale or good for my own personal collection. I diligently recorded them in my trusty moleskin.

That is, until I came to a ‘Penny Brite’ doll with original clothes, shoes and wardrobe. I owned this exact doll when I was five. She was given to me by my grandmother on her last visit to our house. Naturally, this doll took on extra special meaning when my Grams passed. No matter what, I had to have that doll.

It took a bit of work on my part to convince John that there was a doll that I needed for my collection. The highest bid was at $125 and the auction didn’t end until 8 p.m. the next evening. He put in a high bid for me at $160 and we let it fly at that amount. I promised myself I would not look at the auction in the next 24 hours to see if we had been outbid. “I’m not going back in to raise the bid,” John commented. I already knew that. Fact.

I went to work the next day and tried not to think about my ‘Penny Brite.’ However, remnants of the scene when my grandmother gave her to me kept playing over and over in my head. She seemed to be equally as excited to give me the doll as I was to receive it.

John and I both returned home that night around 6 p.m. The Japanese carry-out up the street answered the dinner dilemma. We settled in for a little Netflix, neither one of us mentioning the auction.

8 p.m. came and went. Finally, I casually mentioned the auction. “Oh, I completely forgot about it,” John remarked. “Let’s go see what we’ve won.”

In the beginning of the auction John won some vases and art deco pieces. Next page revealed that John won some dramatic boudoir dolls. Page 15. There she stood. ‘Penny Brite.’ We won her for $150. She was mine. I truly felt like I would have bit of Grams with me again.

John was excited about his acquisitions. “I signed up for a 2 p.m. pick up on Saturday. Can you wait that long?” John asked. “Guess I’ll just have to!” I answered.

The week ended and it was finally Saturday. The auction house was about a 90-minute drive. We were met with the regular routine once we arrived. We had a copy of our list purchases which we matched against the auction employer’s. Only time to pack the car. Never inspection at the auction house.

90 minutes. Home. There she lay in her wardrobe. Pristine and in mint condition. Donned in her red and white striped dress with the delicate blue flowers. Her wardrobe held the familiar white round suitcase and her comfy pink robe along with her fuzzy white slippers.

If everything panned out exactly right, the bottom drawer of the wardrobe would hold Penny’s yellow plastic rainboots along with her yellow slicker and umbrella. Just like the day Grams gave her to me.

Except it wasn’t. It wasn’t at all like the day Grams gave me Penny. There was money. Not play money; real money. Rolls of money. $100 bills stuffed into the drawer. After unstuffing the drawer, I noticed more bills trying to escape from between the plastic walls of the wardrobe and a thin layer of cardboard. The bills seemed to be endless.

Math is not a strength of mine, so I simply organized the $100 bills into piles of 10. Upon finishing, I counted 20 piles. 10 x 20 x 100 = $20,000! Bloody hell. $20,000! Who could rightfully claim this money? Does it belong to the auction house? The former doll owner? John? Me?

There was a distinct voice in the back of my mind returning to the answer “me.” Why not me? I’ve paid my dues in more ways than one. I deserved a break like this. It might be difficult hiding the money from John; but not impossible, not impossible.