Harvey Guymon’s Personal Shill

Heirlooms wasn’t Joel’s favourite auction house. But it was air conditioned, which counted for a lot. He got there early and wandered the maze of tables, disinterestedly reviewing the heaps of items for sale. If Alice was with him they would have spent this time searching for standouts, looking up maker marks, checking prices online - it seemed so important at the time. Now he was on his own, he just thought about Harvey Guymon – what he would buy, and how much he’d be willing to pay. 

He treated himself to a coffee and cinnamon roll from the Harding church ladies’ stand and took a seat by the wall. The ringers and early birds stopped to greet him. He knew a lot of people by sight but not so many by name. Alice kept track of their names and where they were from. She would make a point of knowing what they were buying and where they were selling. Many times over the years he thought about giving up the life. But it was Alice’s thing and he loved Alice, so… 

“Hey, old timer.” It was Harvey Guymon, speaking of the devil. Joel shook his hand but didn’t stand up. Harvey craned his neck around the room. “Anything good today?” 

“Well, there’s cast iron pans, vintage cameras, some nice old chalkware,” Joel iterated, starting with things Harvey didn’t like. 

“Uh huh,” the other replied, already losing interest in the conversation. 

“There’s one of those stained glass lamps… and a big German bible. I think you like those.” Joel didn’t see any harm in mentioning them. They’d get a good price without his help. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Harvey agreed, a little more interested. 

“Of course, there’s Morgan and Peace dollars. One’s a Carson City. A sterling silver flatware set too.” He didn’t intend on bidding on the sterling unless Harvey was going to get it for less than a thousand. He could make his money back at that price if he accidentally bought it. He just didn’t want to go through the trouble.

“I’ll have to fight you for those silver dollars, I bet,” Harvey said, amiably. 

“Well, you know what they say. They’re not making any more of them.” 

“I know, I know.” Harvey offered him another handshake. “I’m going to go have a look myself.” 

Over the next half an hour the room filled up and the ringers got into position. The auctioneer climbed onto the metal stand at the center of the room and his wife took a seat beside him with her laptop computer. As the auctioneer went over the terms of the auction, Joel found his place in the crowd. He didn’t try to get close to the table. He didn’t need to see what they were selling. He just needed to see the auctioneer and Harvey Guymon. 

To get the crowd warmed up, the auctioneer started on housewares. Joel let Harvey pick up a few things cheap to build his confidence. He also bought a few bargains to show that he was a player. Those little treasures could go right to the church ladies’ thrift shop as long as he didn’t pay too much. If he paid up he would have to find a buyer to recoup the expense. Best to avoid that hassle if he could. 

On the table, at the front, was the first big prize: a slag-glass ashtray with a metal lion mounted on it. Harvey was getting antsy as the ringers got closer and closer. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. That ashtray checked his boxes, for sure. Alice would have liked it, too, but not for the price that Harvey was going to pay. He pictured Alice’s noble face. She would not have approved of what he was doing. 

As the ringer lifted the ashtray, Harvey became calm and freed up his bidding hand. He didn’t look directly at the auctioneer but turned to face his direction. Joel studiously avoided making any unrehearsed reactions himself. Harvey was no fool. He couldn’t have been in business this long if he was. Joel cocked his head to one side and pretended to scrutinize the item as if it was the first time he noticed it. 

The auctioneer asked for one hundred and then for fifty when he didn’t get it. He asked for twenty-five, fifteen, ten. At five, Harvey made eye contact with him and nodded. Joel crossed his arms and tapped a finger to his chest to indicate his own bid. After a brief back and forth, Harvey glanced around to see who else was bidding. Joel glanced around too, for effect. Now that the auctioneer knew Joel was in, any little gesture he made could renew his bid.

Harvey lowered his head as the price rose, taking longer each time to nod and confirm. Joel watched this sad display in the corner of his eye, waiting for the moment of maximum pain. He knew it was time when Harvey looked up with a smile on his lips while the rest of his face wore a frown. He was at his limit. Joel looked down and shook his head slightly at the auctioneer’s prompt. Harvey took the ashtray in his hands and brandished it proudly, smug that he had bought it for fifty dollars when he might have had it for five. One down, all day to go. 

This type of scene repeated itself several times over the next few hours. Harvey Guymon unknowingly battled over a moriage Satsuma vase. He dueled over a box of vintage black and white photographs. He overpaid for a hand-tooled kidney belt, an ornate set of fireplace tools, and a new-in-package model of an Oldsmobile 442. Where Harvey sold his things that could enable him to buy for such high prices, was beyond Joel. It wasn’t important, though, as long as he paid. 

Then, there it was, a woman in tarnished brass or bronze. But she wasn’t a woman, she was a mermaid. A mermaid, but with wings. Joel’s attention was piqued, and he wasn’t the only one gripped by the sea creature. The ringer held it out in several directions so that everyone could get a look. The figure was very attractive and ornamental; a genuine article. Someone said ‘gaslight’ and Joel noted the item’s backplate and the torch in the mermaid’s arms. If only he had spotted this gem earlier, he could have researched some prices. Too late now. 

To Joel’s delight, Harvey got in high with fifty dollars. He did that thing where he just kept his hand up, signaling to everyone he was going to keep bidding for as long as it took. That might be intimidating for some, but for Joel it was a green flag. He waited for the other bidders to push up the price and drop out, one by one. Then Joel grinned at the auctioneer and got in at one hundred and fifty. Harvey’s confidence had been ruffled. His once strong, declarative raised arm started to sag over his head. 

Joel couldn’t hide his exhilaration as the price rose – two hundred, two twenty-five, two fifty, two seventy-five. Harvey’s hand sank lower and lower. He was getting close to his limit. Joel shook his head at three hundred, so the auctioneer asked him for two eighty. Joel nodded and the auctioneer pointed to Harvey and called two eighty-five, then back to Joel. Harvey’s hand was just about alive as it rested on the top of his head. He stared Joel down. Joel nodded at two ninety. Harvey bid and put his hand down. 

Two ninety-five… twice what Harvey could have had it for had Joel not been there. The auctioneer was pointing at him and calling ‘Three hun-ned, three hun-ned’. All Joel had to do was nothing and it would all be over. It was then that Joel decided the remarkable winged mermaid was not going home with Harvey Guymon today. 

‘Yep,’ he said. The second ‘yep’ was louder after Harvey made his last bid. That did it for Joel. He’d done it. Accomplished. 

He’d give Harvey a break on the silver dollars, and even the sterling silver flatware. Joel went back to the church ladies and ordered a chili dog and a can of pop. As he showed off his prize, they gave off coos of delight.

‘Why do you do that?’ The dark-haired one asked him. 

‘Do what?’

‘Pick on that one guy.’

It occurred to Joel that he had chatted with this lady dozens of times over the years and yet he had no clue of her name. 

‘What guy? What do you mean?’

The lady wasn’t deterred by his pretense. ‘The big guy with the crew cut. You follow him around, watch him like a hawk, bid on what he’s bidding on. If he doesn’t show up, you just go home.’

He looked at her dumbly. 

‘You’re not in trouble. I’m just curious why.’

Joel took a breath. ‘I’ll tell you why.’ A forgotten anger began awakening in his chest. ‘He spilled beer on my wife’s shoes.’

‘He spilled beer? On purpose?’

‘No. But he thought it was funny. He wasn’t even going to apologise until I asked him to.’

‘But he apologised.’

‘He said the words, but he was grinning the whole time. I’d have liked to wipe the smile off his face but she didn’t want to make trouble.’

‘I remember your wife. She was a kind, gentle person. Do you think she would want you to hold a grudge like this?’ 

Joel hung his head. ‘No, probably not.’

The other lady brought his chili dog to the counter in a little paper dish, and the dark-haired one wrapped it loosely in foil paper. She pushed it across to him along with his drink, dripping from the cooler.

She opened her mouth to say something, paused, then spoke. ‘Forgiveness is something you do for yourself. That guy doesn’t gain anything when you forgive him. You don’t lose anything, except for your burden of resentment. You could let it go today, if you want. I think you’d feel better if you did.’

Joel turned his face away so she might not see the tear welling in the corner of his eye. 

‘Thank you,’ he croaked and went out to eat his chili dog in the car, the mermaid gaslight on the seat beside him. He could sell it for a little profit, or maybe he wouldn’t. It was just the kind of thing Alice would get excited about; the kind of thing that would sit on her sewing table for a couple weeks before ending up in the glass-fronted art deco cabinet. He ran his finger over the mermaid’s face; a face that reminded him of Alice. He supposed he could afford to keep some things every now and again. And maybe, too, he could afford to let some things go.