So the conversation between the Old Lady and the Brother-in-law-mover (BILM), it was said, went like this.
OL: Losh sakes, I can't believe I have to move this piano again. It was my grandmother's. But every time I move from one condo to another, it costs me an arm and a leg. And I don't even play any more. Durn arthritis.
BILM: Yeah, that's too bad.
OL: So how much are going to charge me for moving it?
BILM: The going rate is $500 plus mileage.
OL: Heavens, not again. You know, this piano is an antique.
BILM: We'll be very careful with it.
OL: You know, it's worth over $5,000. I just had a technician over to service it last month, in fact. He said that, with a little work, it would be worth over $10,000. (Pauses.) It was built in the 1800's. (Long, thoughtful pause.) Say, if you want it, I could let you take it, and we'll call it even. You could probably sell it and make lots of money. Like I said, I don't play anymore, I don't have any use for it...
BILM: Really? REALLY?
And so, that afternoon, unannounced, Brother-in-law-mover showed up at his parents' house with his "new" piano. "Ma, I am just going to keep it here for a few weeks while I line up a buyer. If you want, I'll pay you some percent of what I get for it. Thanks for keeping it for me."
Four years later, the piano remains at the parents' house. No buyers. Makes a nice shelf, however, on which to place pictures, lamps, and the Manger scene during Christmas. And it is the instrument Jillian and I are learning on.
There's more to say, though. Pics next time.