Strolling along the balcony, Helen nearly fell through a weak spot.
— Anthony, when did you promise to fix this place? Am I supposed to be afraid to step out here now?
Scratching the back of his head, her husband peeled himself away from the TV and replied:
— Sweetheart, we only just bought this apartment. Let’s not rush things. I still need to buy more building materials, and as you know, money doesn’t grow on trees. If you haven’t forgotten, you ordered some expensive cosmetics last week.
With a displeased expression, Helen shot back:
— Oh, of course, it’s always me spending all the money. As if you don’t spend a dime. How many parts did you buy for your car? Go on, remind me.
Smiling in response, Anthony found his comeback:
— By the way, you drive that car too. And you take it exactly when I need it. So, who’s using it more, huh?
Waving him off, Helen muttered angrily:
— Always excuses. As if I’m the only one who cares, and everyone else couldn’t be bothered.
Their son, startled by the noise, ran out of his room:
— Mom, Dad, are you fighting? I’m trying to do my homework, but I can’t focus with all this arguing.
Patting his head gently, Helen replied softly:
— No, no, Mikey, your dad and I are just figuring out who’s going to get this balcony in order.
Curious about why his mom was so fixated on the balcony, Mikey squeezed forward to gauge her frustration. Shaking his head, he chimed in:
— Dad, this place really does need a complete overhaul. If you want, I’ll help you out.
Taking a deep breath, Anthony said:
— No way, son. Since your mom started nagging me, she and I will handle the floor together. You go do your homework and stop slacking. I’ll check your work later, and if I find any mistakes, you’ll rewrite it.
Mikey lowered his head sadly and shuffled back to his room. Looking at her husband, Helen wagged her finger:
— Stop lecturing him. He’s already doing well in school. Think back—how much time did *you* spend on homework?
Anthony couldn’t argue with that. He hadn’t forgotten how they used to skip lessons, “forget” their diaries at home, and get up to all sorts of mischief—almost embarrassing to recall. But those were different times; school came easily back then. Now, you could sink your teeth into the grind of learning and still not know how to crack it. The show Anthony was watching on TV ended:
— There you go, and you were making a fuss. Tomorrow after work, I’ll swing by Peter’s and sort out the materials. But keep in mind, we’ll need to tighten our belts, or we won’t have enough for the repairs.
Helen’s indignation took a backseat after those words:
— You could’ve just said that from the start instead of tallying up who spends what. What’s next, you’ll start counting my groceries and bus fares, Mr. Accountant? Fine, go check on Mikey and call him for dinner. You’re always on his case, like you’re trying to raise a prodigy. And when you check his homework, don’t be too harsh. If he got something wrong, he’ll fix it later. Anthony, you of all people should know kids today aren’t learning the same stuff we did. Back in our day, a college degree meant something. Now it’s barely worth the paper it’s printed on.
Anthony didn’t argue—his wife was, to some extent, right, and she wasn’t sugarcoating it. Popping into Mikey’s room, he asked:
— Hey, Mikey, hungry? Wash your hands and come to the table. You can finish your homework later. And don’t mind my grumbling sometimes. I got an earful from my parents back in the day too. But look, your dad turned out responsible and driven. I just want the same kind of future for you.
Nodding, Mikey replied:
— I get it, Dad. Don’t worry, I’m doing fine with school.
At dinner, they didn’t bring up Mikey’s grades again, but the balcony repair became the hot topic. Helen wasn’t backing down.
— Don’t forget to check on the materials tomorrow. I’m begging you, Anthony, don’t drag this out. I still need to use the balcony, and I’m already scared of breaking my leg out there. We should’ve checked everything properly when we bought this place. Oh, wait, you were in such a hurry, thinking we’d never find a better deal.
Her sarcastic smile threw Anthony off balance.
— I think I’ll head to the garage. At least I’ll get some peace from your nagging.
Helen didn’t take offense and teased:
— Go ahead, but you’ll be back in half an hour.
She knew her husband well, and if she said his garage escape would be short-lived, she was usually right. Anthony said nothing and left the apartment deep in thought. But this time, he wasn’t planning to sulk alone in the garage. Dialing John’s number, he shouted into the phone:
— Get over here, quick! Same place—I only feel truly free there.
An hour later, Anthony wasn’t suffering in solitude anymore.
— She doesn’t even know what needs doing first, but she still butts in. I don’t know how to find common ground with her. Things were fine before, but ever since we bought this apartment, it’s like she’s a different person. What do you think, John? What should I brace for?
Looking him straight in the eye, John replied:
— Relax, it’s just your nerves. I’m always on edge when I start a renovation—never goes smoothly. Take my Valerie, for example. Your wife’s got nothing on her. You’re lucky, man.
Grinning, Anthony shot back:
— Thanks for the support, pal. I thought you’d have my back. Anyway, that’s not the point. Tell me where I can get building materials on the cheap. I told Helen I’d try through Peter, but you know he’s as greedy as they come—wouldn’t give you snow in winter.
John rubbed his nose and said:
— I’ve got an idea. My father-in-law’s a foreman at a construction site. We can get whatever you need through him.
Catching his drift, Anthony pulled out his wallet:
— How much? I’m not a cheapskate like Peter, you can count on that.
John frowned and put a hand to his throat:
— Let’s start with some liquid currency, then we’ll see. I’ll talk my father-in-law into giving us the green light. We’ll settle up later, if you don’t forget.
Anthony shook his hand firmly and pulled a glass bottle filled with reddish liquid from a hidden drawer:
— Will this do as a down payment? Don’t be shy—I guarantee top quality.
John didn’t take his word for it and sniffed the contents several times before sipping.
— Wow, nice aroma. Hope the taste matches.
Filling his glass halfway, he downed it in one gulp. Anthony, ready for this, slid over a lightly salted pickle.
— What’s that? It’s got a kick like a fiery furnace.
John took a bite and said:
— Quality stuff. Best I’ve had. So, you’re saying Helen’s hung up on fixing the balcony floor? Why’s she so fixated on it? Is there nothing else in the apartment that needs work?
Shrugging, Anthony replied:
— I’ve already taken care of the small stuff. But the balcony? I can’t decide what to lay down there. I want it warm in winter, so we need good insulation and electric heating. Good thing your father-in-law’s in construction. We can get mineral wool through him, or better yet, panels—that’d be faster. Honestly, I might not have touched the balcony if I hadn’t tripped there myself. It feels like the concrete base is crumbling, and the boards are warped.
Feeling generous after the drink, John offered his theory:
— Maybe it’s not the concrete crumbling. What if there’s a hollow spot under the floor, and the boards are shifting when you walk?
Anthony tilted his head and replied slowly:
— Could be. Can’t rule that out. But I’d prefer to keep costs down. So, we’re agreed—as soon as your father-in-law gives the go-ahead, we’ll haul the materials to your place.
Unlike Anthony, John lived in a house, making it easier to store supplies. Their hangout stretched late into the night, and only after seeing John off did Anthony start heading home. The half-hour Helen had predicted was long gone, and he needed an excuse to avoid her righteous wrath. After some thought, he decided a little financial freedom would smooth things over.
Back in the apartment, he boldly offered Helen a trip to the salon. Somehow, his words worked like magic, and she softened:
— Fine, you’re forgiven this time, but don’t expect more leniency. By the way, did you call Peter? Is everything still on track?
Anthony mustered all his willpower to keep quiet about his real plans:
— Of course, darling. It’s all sorted. The day after tomorrow, I’ll start tearing up the old floor, and you’re helping.
Helen was so thrilled she forgave not only his garage escape but also the lingering smell of their boozy gathering. Say what you will, women know how to keep the peace at home. When a storm’s brewing, they’re better than meteorologists at predicting clear skies.
That night, Anthony fully redeemed himself. But the next morning, he buzzed off to work like a busy bee, skipping breakfast. Waving goodbye, Helen murmured:
— Fine, more for me.
Luck was on Anthony’s side. The next day, John’s father-in-law let them take materials from the warehouse. But John, being a bit petty, grabbed a few boards for himself.
— Hey, you never know what’ll come in handy. If not now, I’ll use them later. What’re you staring at, man? It’s economics—don’t blink. Who knows, maybe I’ll build a gazebo or expand the house. My father-in-law’s on the site today, but tomorrow he could get the boot, and that’s it, shop’s closed.
He had a point, and Anthony couldn’t disagree. Excited to tell Helen the repairs were imminent, he called his boss and asked for two days off. The boss hesitated but, after hearing Anthony’s sob story about married life, relented with a begrudging tear. Anthony knew he’d come through:
— Thank you, George Peterson. I won’t forget this. If you ever need me to cover for you, I’m your guy.
Taking note of the promise, the boss replied:
— Alright, what won’t you do for a good worker? But I’ll hold you to that.
That evening was a true celebration: Helen didn’t pester him with questions, Mikey was on track with school, and the balcony repairs were set to start in the morning. Thrilled with his slick planning, Anthony allowed himself a small drink but kept it modest, wary of Helen’s disapproval. Surprisingly, she was lenient with his antics, though she kept a sharp eye to ensure he didn’t cross the line.
The next day, as the first ray of sunlight hit the window, John was already honking outside. He’d brought the boards and other materials:
— Take them quick, or I’ll haul them back. Like I said, everything’s useful in my house. And if you need my help, I’m in. Not all day, though—I’ve got to head to my in-laws’ country house later. They’re redoing the roof on their sauna. You’re not the only one swamped, you get it.
Bit by bit, they carried some boards to the building entrance, and the smaller ones were carefully brought into the apartment. Helen, in her naivety, tried to pay John, pulling out her wallet, but Anthony stopped her. Glaring at her, he said sternly:
— What’re you doing? This isn’t a store. Friendship isn’t for sale. He helped me today; I’ll return the favor tomorrow.
Helen nodded in agreement:
— Right, how would I know what your guy-code is?
Neither reacted further, and they kept moving the boards. Half an hour later, they were done.
— Alright, I’m off, Anthony. Too bad you didn’t take my help.
Waving him off, Anthony replied:
— Thanks for coming through with the materials. I’d have been searching forever otherwise, and this was quick and cheap.
As soon as John left, Helen pounced with questions:
— What’s that supposed to mean? You said you’d go through Peter. Did he refuse to help?
Anthony led her to the balcony and said:
— Does it matter who got the materials? Peter or John, what’s the difference? John stepped up faster, and we agreed on a price. Less talk, more work. Look, we’ll start from this corner so it’s easier to clear out the debris.
The day’s task was demolition—ripping up the old floor and cleaning the base of dirt and dust. Anthony started at the far end, while Helen stayed near the entrance, using a specialized tool. Suddenly, they both stopped, as if their drive to renovate had vanished. Exchanging glances, they cautiously lifted the boards they’d removed and jumped back in horror, clutching their heads. Helen trembled when she saw a metal box inside. Inspecting the find, Anthony couldn’t figure out how it got there. They had to tear up the remaining boards to free the box. Their eyes gleamed with excitement, bright enough to light a torch. Soon, Mikey joined them on the balcony, helping to liberate the mysterious box.
Finally, when the box was free, they tried to open it. But there was a problem—it needed a key, which none of them had. Using a crowbar and sledgehammer, Anthony pried it open. Their shock was palpable when they found antique books and several pairs of wristwatches, likely gold-rimmed with engravings. Anthony ignored the books and grabbed the watches. Mikey, however, took a different approach, picking up a book and heading to the living room. The couple assumed he’d caught a reading bug, but ten minutes later, Mikey shouted, holding the book:
— Mom, Dad, we’re rich! This tome is worth a fortune. I checked some collector auctions online and got a quick sense of its value.
Placing a hand on her forehead, Helen mused:
— Now I get why they called Leo Sanders, the previous owner, an antiquarian. I thought it was some kind of nickname, like for a shady character. Looks like the antiquarian left us a gift—or forgot to take it with him.
At first, the find unsettled them; they worried Leo might return for his treasure. But no one called or showed up, so they decided to sell the rarities. None of them planned to start a home library.
Soon, another surprise tied up the matter.
As promised, Mikey helped his parents find buyers, who offered a good price for the antique books. To their astonishment, Leo Sanders himself showed up at the meeting. Clapping Anthony and Helen on the shoulders, he said joyfully:
— You won’t believe it, but I’d given up hope of ever recovering this rare piece from my collection. As for the balcony, it never crossed my mind to hide anything there.
It turned out that one of Leo’s old friends had tried to profit from his collection. During a previous renovation, she’d stolen what she could, hid it in the box, and stashed it on the balcony under the floorboards. She ensured the hiding spot went unnoticed by the workers and even fabricated evidence to pin the theft on them. Her plan to steal the apartment itself was next, but unforeseen circumstances derailed her scheme. After inspecting the partially started repairs, Leo promised to fully compensate them and even paid for a family beach vacation. As the saying goes, ill-gotten gains bring no happiness. Helen and Anthony agreed it was fair—they’d still come out ahead. Riding the wave of excitement, Helen suggested renovating the entire apartment. But Anthony, sensing her intentions, shut down any treasure-hunting dreams. He knew there were no more hidden stashes. If they didn’t stop now, who knows what they’d get into?
The balcony repairs were soon completed. Anthony didn’t even tell John about the find, knowing he’d be furious for being left out of the labor. The secret of the metal box was locked away tightly. Thanking them for their ingenuity and unexpected cleverness, Leo Sanders vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared.
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