Holly now owned three antique lamps, none of which she had sought.
First the wisteria Tiffany Lamp with the tree trunk base that belonged to her mother and which Holly had rewired herself, much to her father's discomfort. The brass torchiere came from her cousin Rick's brief flirtation with antiquing. And now the swan-shaped kerosene lamp whose red fuel sloshed as Aunt Doreen set it on the coffee table.
It's passed through four generations of Penders, said Doreen, who was never shy about pointing out that she was not a Pender herself. Loren used to light it every Christmas, the old fool.
Doreen had sold her and Uncle Loren's house in Roan Heights and was parceling out their antiques ahead of her move into Elmhaven. Holly ran her thumb across a chip in the swan's beak and thought that she'd really rather have the old house.
If you don't get busy and have some kids you're gonna be stuck with everybody's junk.