Selling. Back from TN Home.

They don't stand a chance, that couple on the verge of buying our Tennessee house. The dogwood tree outside my old bedroom window is blooming--they won't be able to resist signing that final piece of paper. The one that says they're fine with the inspection and they're fine with our negotiated price. We just have to fix that one rusty pipe.

The couple says they'd like to bargain for some of the furniture, which would be fine--Mom and Dad would have loved for the living and dining room to stay mostly intact. But Ned and I will move some odds and ends up here, to replace furniture that those oft-mentioned four cats have destroyed; and Jim will take a chest-of-drawers (he swears, that's all he wants); and we'll have some kind of sale for the Rosenthal, Royal Worcester, etc. that Mom and Dad collected over the years. Mom had very good taste. Lucky for her, Dad thought that was ok. Together the two of them created a house that really was a kind of work of art. Not too much, not too little--just classy and elegant.

Which brings me to the story of the Chinese cabinets. As far back as I can remember, they were always there in the dining room, tall and dark and mysterious, one on each side of the dining room window. The wood had a very distinctive sweet odor, and there were very fragile inlaid landscapes on the front. The cabinets were, in fact, from China, but by way of Atlanta--Mom and Dad went down there, with a decorator from Bradford's Furniture in Nashville, and bought them, probably in the early to mid '60s. Mom never got over how the guys who delivered them dumped the huge wooden crates in the driveway during a snowstorm.

My Aunt Lois convinced me there must be hidden drawers or secret little places in the cabinets and we scoured them pretty carefully--but no hidden treasure was to be found. Mom filled them with the good china, crystal, and special holiday pieces.

After Dad died in 2002, and after Mom moved into an assisted living facility, at the end of 2009, it was only a matter of time before the house went on the market, which it did in April of 2010. Mom felt strongly that she wanted the cabinets to stay with the house...that they were perfect for the space, and vice versa. I was sure I'd be struck by lightning--but I didn't listen to her. An estate appraiser came through and said that most of Mom and Dad's furniture wouldn't sell too well in Middle Tennessee--it needed to get to a coast, east or west. So with that information....

A friend of mine, in the same historical society in northern NJ, runs one of the biggest antique fairs in New York City. So, "Irene," I said,"what can I do about these wonderful old Chinese cabinets that need to live a life beyond Gallatin, Tennessee?" And she had the perfect answer: "Why don't I put in touch with my friend Lark Mason, WHO DOES ASIAN FURNITURE APPRAISALS FOR ANTIQUES ROADSHOW?!" [caps, bold face, and exclamation points all mine] I thought that was a fine idea.

So I called Lark, who was very friendly and sounded very interested in the cabinets--and when he saw photographs, he was even more interested. Lark not only appears on Antiques Roadshow but he has an online auction house, and he wanted to bring them up to New York City and put them in his next online Asian furniture auction. Estimated starting bid for the two of them, $10,000. I was happy.

I should say at this point that Mom wasn't going back to the house anymore. There was one time when she told Jim she needed to go back and pick something up, and so he took her home--but she only walked around the place, as if she were taking one last look. I didn't feel any need to tell her the cabinets were leaving--she'd feel as if a part of the house were being amputated.

Some nice, gentle movers that Lark recommended came and got the cabinets--I believe they were in better hands than the ones that had delivered them. When they arrived in New York, my friend Emily and I went to visit them in Lark's showroom, and there was the old familiar wood smell. I choked up a little. They had traveled well.

The auction for the cabinets started in late October and ran for a couple of weeks, into early November. That starting bid of $10,000 was met pretty quickly. Again, I was happy. Then, not so many days after, there was a bid for $12,500 or so. Happiness is...

When the last day of the auction came, the last 30 minutes, I was stopping by the Haworth Library and I pulled Elizabeth, my friend, the librarian, into staring at the computer screen with me for those last few minutes. Well, we weren't just staring at it...we were refreshing it constantly. And there was action. I think it started the afternoon in the $20,000plus range--then it hit $30,000--$40,000. Elizabeth said, "It's going to hit fifty, it's going to hit fifty," and I said, "No way, no way." It hit fifty. When the auction ended, the cabinets had sold for $55,000, and they were going back home to China.

Jim was right--Mom never did get home again. She died before the auction started, and I'm glad she never knew the cabinets left the house. Although actually I think she would have enjoyed the story...Antiques Roadshow was just about her favorite show, Lark Mason was a gentleman, the movers were nice, the price was amazing, and the cabinets were making a voyage home.

Aunt Lois was right about something, too. There was treasure in those cabinets, after all. Mom and Dad must have known all along.