I love the way the sun shed its light on the mother of pearl sticks of the open lace fan on the shelf. The curve of the fan, the shimmering glow of the pearl sticks and the grace of the whole display evoked thoughts of times long gone. Visions of a glistening ball room, gleaming crystal chandeliers, livried footmen, gentlemen in knee breeches and high socks; ladies in wide billowing skirts with tight figure revealing blouses all surged to mind. I could see the ladies opening and closing their fan with a coquettish snap. Fans had their own role in the life of an evening soiree. This elegant fan was active in that earlier time - just as it now lies dormant. For me, however, it is still active, for I am suddenly plunged into another scene, which involved this fan before it found its way to the display shelf. This fan may have had many lives, but the only one I am sure of is the one which involved my discovery of it. I smiled as I thought of that long ago moment.
I was a young woman then, not more than 28 years old, full of curiosity about old things and old places. I remember the afternoon, that I on the inclination of a whim decided to do some serious antiquing in Vermont. I hopped into my lovely turquoise convertible, top down, Strauss waltzes pouring from my tape deck, foot on the gas pedal, off I went at a roaring clip.
It was in the second shop that the adventure began. I walked through the door, entering a musty, cluttered furniture rich room of, old pieces, chests, queen Anne tables, lamps, anything one wanted to find was squeezed into this long, full room.
At the end, on the side, was a display case, where fine , small pieces were safely presented. A young man was standing near it, looking with intense interest at something which I soon saw was a fan. His look drew me towards it like a magnet. I went and soon saw why he was so fascinated, for not only was the fan beautiful of line, it was in perfect condition. I knew how rare it was t o find a mother of pearl and point de gaze lace fan in perfect condition without a blemish or tear. Then I saw something else. At the bottom of each mother of pearl stick was placed a tiny diamond. As I drew up next to him, he turned to me and said in an incredulous voice "Do you see what I see? Aren't those real diamonds encrusted in the base of those fan sticks?"
I looked again, for I had seen the same and said, almost in a whisper. "Yes, they look like diamonds, but they can't be."
At this moment, a large woman with darkish glasses entered the room from a side door. She walked with a slight limp, dragging one foot ever so slightly. She didn't come up to us, but seemed to keep us in her vision from across the room.
The man and I looked at each other, and said again, "Do you think they are real?"
"I don't know, but let's try to find out." Even though we had never met, we felt now as if we were in on this thing together, partners almost. I cleared my throat and then said to the woman, who pretended to be dusting a distant table, "Pardon me, but could you give me a price over here?"
"Why surely dearie, what is it you want to know about?" At this moment I did something I hadn't planned. I threw up a little smoke screen by indicating price interest in several items, a small brooch and a pair of dangling earrings and then the fan.
I noticed the woman squinted as she came close to see the above mentioned items and I realized that she was having trouble seeing. "Well, wait a minute dearie, I've got to look at these here tags. I'm just watching this for a friend, you know. My friend is laid up so I said I would help her out this afternoon." The young man and I looked at each other involuntarily. I don't know why, but I did know that suddenly it was us against her. As she peered into the case we knew that what we saw, she didn't. It was as if the diamonds were our secret. "Well, let's see. Yessiree, I think this says $200.00, yup, that's what it says $200.00. That's what it costs, that fan, $200.00 . I didn't want to look again. I didn't want to press my good fortune, and above all I didn't want to double check to discover whether there was an extra 0 after the 200. If that's what the clerk said, well, then, that's what it was. The young man started to talk, but I opened my mouth first and said quickly, "I'll take it."
It was when he sputtered "hey wait" that I quickly said, "We'll buy that," smiled at him and said " won't we dear?"
He got the message and said "Of course honey."
We each brought out $100, paid for the fan and then almost ran from the room.
Once outside the door we stopped and looked at each other with embarrasment. What had happened inside left us both astounded. We had collaborated, if not in a crime, at least in something a little off-- or had we? Had we taken advantage of an older womans ignorance and failing eyesight? Had we? And now what were we going to do, we shared the ownership of a diamond studded fan, and we didn't even know each other's name. "By the way" I said, "My name is Cornelia, nelly for short."
"And I'm Bradford, Brad for short" came the instant reply " I'm glad to meet you. And now what do we do with our new jointly held purchase?"
"Well, what do you want for your half of the fan Brad?" I said, feigning a casualness I did not feel.
"Funny you ask, I was just going to ask you the same thing" he said. "Well Brad, truth to tell I've fallen in love with the fan and I'll give you twice what we paid for it, so that it can go into my collection." Here I smiled at him coyly. His smile back was almost a laugh.
"Look Cornelia, we both want this fan. We both think we've got something pretty unusual. Now we've got to find a way to decide which of us gets this fan- At this moment I had my inspiration "Brad- what is it about the fan that really attracts you?"
"Don't be silly, Cornelia", he retorted "the diamonds, of course."
"Well Brad, you may not believe it, but it isn't the diamonds I'm after. I love the grace, the shape, the history, the romance of the fan. Why don't we split it. You take the diamonds and i'lI take what's left. A clever craftsman can extract those diamonds, ever so carefully. You ‘ll have what you want, and I'll have what I want."
"That sounds like a good deal to me Nelly. Let's go to the jeweler in town and see if he can do it." At this moment we realized that one of us would have to carry the fan and the other would have to trust the one who carried the fan.
"I'll take it" Brad said. I couldn't bear to say "Oh no you don't, I'll take it," so I rather weakly agreed to follow him in my car. Our cars were parked at quite a distance from each other. "I'll meet you here " I said, handing him the fan, which by now assumed almost a life of its own, it seemed so desirable. I watched Brad go towards his car and waited for his reappearance. Why was I surprised when I saw him again I wondered? Was it the fear of thieves falling out? He set out at a good pace. I tailgated. He sped up. I sped up. Finally we were back in town in front of Gare and Sons jewelery shop. We entered and encountered a narrow eyed elderly man. "What can I do for you?" he asked.
"Well, it's this way. My lady wants to use her fan, but doesn't want the diamonds wasted on a fan. She wants me to have a ring made for her from them. Do you think you can take these diamonds out without marring the fan or the stones?"
"Huh" said the man, "Seems a funny thing to do, but sure I can do it. Happen to have a little time right now if you want me to get right at it."
We looked at each other. We looked at him and then almost in unison said--"Oh Please" and we gave him the fan. This was working beautifully. He went to work and we sat in the front of the store got acquainted. I discovered that he was a travelling critic for a food magazine but an antique buff on the side. I revealed to him that I was an interior decorator with a passion for fans. The afternoon went very quickly and by the end of it, when Mr. Gare was called us to show off his work, we really knew each other and liked each other a lot. Mr. Gare had filled the small holes where the diamonds had been with tiny pieces of turquoise which added great piquancy to the fan. The diamonds were in a small jeweler's bag. Altogether the bill came to $250. Brad insisted on paying because he was getting the more valuable part of the new purchase.
As we started to leave, the old man called out, "By the way, young man, if you really love the young woman for whom you're having these diamonds made into a ring, I suggest you get some real ones. Those little rocks are just that, little rocks- got nothing to do with real diamonds. They look pretty good now- but give em' a little time and they'll just scratch up and be lost".
We stepped outside the store, looked at each other and started to laugh. Those weren't real diamonds. The fan wasn't a rare old diamonds studded fan. We wondered for a moment, who had taken whom?? We're still wondering this ten years later. We know one thing. The one really straightforward action of that day was our meeting and our liking each other. Other than that, it's not a story we are apt to tell our 8 year old daughter.