Odd Prompts: Commonly Believed to be Ming

Today's prompt is a bit of something longer, which I won't put entirely in public... I have plans for this story! 

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She propped her elbows on the kitchen island, her eyes sleepy. Joe pushed a mug of coffee closer to her, and she blinked. 

“What did I do last night?” She asked, pulling the mug in close and inhaling. 

“Slept, best I can tell. I pointed at the couch, and later put a blanket on you.” He picked up his own mug and leaned back against the counter across from her. 

“I’d had an eventful day.” She pointed out. 

“I realize that. Do you really understand it, though?” 

“Huh?” She took a long swig. “Might want to wait until I have this inside me.” 

“While you do that, I’ll bring in boxes.” He straightened, smiling at her. “I think you’re the only person I know who gets a high off estate sales.” 

“That’s because you never met my gramma.” She retorted before taking refuge in her mug again. 

“Wasn’t your gramma matching you on vodka shots last night.” He noted with a dry tone, and left while she was still closing her eyes in painful memory. That, and the bright light as he opened the door on the sunshine. 

It hadn’t been her grandmother, but if that little old lady wasn’t someone’s grandmother, Liane would eat her hat. 

The sale had been a disappointment. She’d hit it late, to begin with. Weekends were always Liane’s busy days. She’d long ago resigned herself to her work taking over the days her friends and family were kicking back, going to events, and having fun while she had three sales scheduled. Not that she didn’t have fun. She loved her work, because really, who wouldn’t love shopping for a living? There were days better than others, she’d freely admit. But the thrill of finding treasures? That made it worthwhile. Having clients squeal in delight when she presented their heart’s desire? Totes better than trudging into an office on weekdays and having two days to enjoy herself. 

The sale had been a long shot. The pictures in the online gallery were bad, and she knew that usually meant it would be poorly organized. That could be good, because it meant bargains would be had. Particularly if she showed up late like she planned to do, and they were desperate to move what was left over. Or it could be bad, and there would be nothing she wanted, even if she had come in early and beat her competitors to the treasures. It was a balancing act. With the earlier sales listing items she knew she had to have, this one filled in the day. 

The door opened again, but she’d been forewarned by his footsteps on the deck, so her eyes were tightly squinted closed when he clumped into the room. 

“Are you stomping on purpose?” She didn’t open her eyes. 

“Maybe.” He set something heavy down. “You want me to carry in all this crap? Then I’m going to make some noise.” 

“Better you than me.” She lifted her mug, then opened her hazel eyes, blinking. “Where did the coffee go?” 

“Have another cup. Then you can start going through all this stuff.” 

“Wait.” Liane’s thought finally percolated to the surface. “I get that you brought me here to let me sleep it off. But why are we unloading at your place?” 

“Because I really want to see what that....” He bit off what he’d been trying to say. “Foisted on you after getting you sloshed.” 

“Coffee.” Liane muttered, heading for the pot. He went back out, behind her. 

She was staring at the box he’d put on the floor when he came back in. He stood in the doorway, propping the door with his foot, and looked at her. She looked up at him. Joe always looked good, even in salt-and-pepper stubble. She was wearing the jeans and tee shirt from the day before, her hair had been twisted up in a messy knot atop her head, and she should look like death, but... One corner of his lips quirked up. 

“Joe?” 

“Yes?” 

“What the hell did I buy?” 

“Good question.” He lowered the box he was holding to the floor. “I don’t know what you said to her, but after you kept matching her shots, she started putting things in boxes that weren’t even part of the sale.” 

“She said her family didn’t appreciate beauty.” Liane put her coffee mug down. Curiosity was beating out even caffeine. “I’d said.. I don’t remember exactly. But something about how I rehab and repair and make the old new again.” 

She crouched down next to the big cardboard box and eased up a loose flap. “I don’t remember her wrapping stuff up.” 

“She didn’t. This was already like that. She kept pointing at boxes and telling me to take, take!” 

Liane groaned. “Which means no one else wanted it, and now I’ll have to take her trash out.” 

“Not necessarily. She kept patting me on the arm and telling me what a good boy I am, to take care of you.” 

Liane glared up at him. “Because I was drunk. I can’t believe I did that.” 

He propped one shoulder against the closed door, smirking. “You were cute. I’ve never seen you get drunk before. You kept talking about preserving history in the ways that really mattered.” 

“Home and hearth.” Liane let out her breath and dropped her bottom to the tiled floor with a thud. “I get pedantic when I get tipsy.” 

“So what’s in the box?” 

Liane pulled out the first wrapped bundle. “This is professionally done.” 

“It’s not old newspapers.” Joe left his spot and headed for the coffeepot. “But why professional?” 

“The packing is high-end. And this is paper tape.” Liane sliced it open carefully with her pocket knife. “It’s a piece of porcelain.” 

Joe wandered back, mug in hand, and peered down at her. She held it up. “That’s nice. Is it Ming?” 

Liane narrowed her eyes at him. “Not all Chinese porcelain is Ming.” 

“I’m not making fun of you!” He protested, but the curve of his lips told another story. “What’s inside it?” 

“Dunno.” She set the vase down carefully, pulling out the long, slender package. “This one’s stained.” 

“But also carefully wrapped and taped. You know, I’ve heard stories about movers packing up the baby’s used nappies. Be careful what you open.” 

She let out a huff at his teasing, and unrolled the paper carefully. “Ugh, this was a mess.” 

She held the knife through the paper, after she had freed it from the dried stained paper. It had molded around the blade, since it had been wet when it was packed, with whatever this was. 

“Is that rust?”

Joe crouched to get a closer look. Liane shook her head. “Wrong color for rust, it looks more like...” 

“It’s blood.” They spoke in unison, and Liane met his eyes, seeing them widen in an echo of her shock at the discovery. 

***

I was prompted by 'Nother Mike, with "After the auction, when you were cleaning the ming vase you bought, you found a bloody knife inside…" and as you see, I took liberties with that prompt. 

I prompted 'Nother Mike in return (it's random assignment, really!) with "She opened the book and a gush of water poured out of the pages." 

You can read all the responses, and the prompts, and find out how to play along, at More Odds Than Ends.