Kristy helped me from the garage floor, and we stared at the box and the chandelier. Since the box had been tucked in a far corner of the garage, I guessed Dale placed it there to protect it. Thing is he forgot about it and I didn’t know about it. The chandelier sat for two decades, wrapped in bathroom rugs from my grandmother’s house. Now, despite a film of dust and spider webs, it cast dancing prisms everywhere we looked. I laughed and cried at the irony. Even if twenty years ago I’d known, we couldn’t have afforded to hang the chandelier.
I spent the rest of that day searching the internet for chandelier repair. Since the chandelier was over 50 years, it qualified as an antique, not your standard hanging lamp. I had few options. Next morning as soon as the store opened, I brought it to Lloyd’s of Monterey. The lighting technician checked over the chandelier, no longer wrapped in carpet, but in the same cardboard box. He hesitated. I imagined he didn’t want another project, especially this one.
“It’s going to cost you over $500, maybe more, to fix the broken arm, rewire and replace the plug, and for ‘dressing.'”
He paused and smiled, “You can buy another chandelier for the cost of repairing this one. Have you looked at Home Depot?” He was missing the point. I hoped he was joking, since Lloyd’s sells crystal chandeliers.
“This belonged to my grandmother. I don’t care about the cost. I want it fixed, so I can hang it in my house.”
He reached in to touch some of the crystals. “Okay, well, I’m not sure we’ll be able to fix that broken arm. What color wire do you want? You have choices.”
And the discussion continued. I learned about dressing or how the strands hang, grounds and wires, arms. “Well, when it’s finished it’ll be worth as much as some of our more expensive models in the store. It’s going to take a while. I can’t start on this right away, so if you find a replacement arm on the internet that should save us some time.”
I went to work on my assignment, delivering the replacement arm the following week. A month passed then two, then two and half. I was anxious to see the finished product. No matter that I had waited twenty years already. In the meantime, I mentioned nothing to Dale. I wanted this to be a surprise.
Finally, the day arrived. I had a vision. I would move the existing Italian-style chandelier above our dining table to the master bedroom above our bed. Nana’s crystal chandelier would hang in the dining room, as it should have, long ago. And I hoped the electrician, obviously not me, could finish before Dale returned from work.
For two months, we enjoyed the light fixtures in their new locations. Then, we called the electrician again—this time to remove and repack the lamps; we were moving to Julian. No way was I leaving these pieces behind.