overpriced it.”
Another wave. “I’ll pay whatever it’s tagged…. Where is this mall located?”
“It’s a new one, back in Serenity.” I told Troy how to get there, then noticed the wall clock. “But you’ll have to hurry…they close in about twenty minutes.”
“Then you’ll excuse me if I go…?” He tossed a tenspot on the table.
“No problem,” I said. “And thanks for the drink.”
He didn’t stay long enough for “You’re welcome.”
And as quickly as he left, Troy’s true interest clearly was in that desk and not in my bodacious bod; oh well. I hailed Tweety Bird, and got Jake a Coke to go.
Halfway home I’d realized we’d forgotten to get the damn pumpkin.
A Trash ’n’ Treasures Tip
Some dealers will fabricate a fantastic story about an antique just to sell it. For instance, if you’re told a rolltop desk was once owned by Mamie Eisenhower, or Mamie Van Doren for that matter, ask for proof before buying it.
Chapter Six
Let Sleeping Dogs Die
T he next morning I awoke early, brushed my teeth, threw some cold water on my face, and stumbled down to the kitchen to fix myself breakfast. It was the kind of morning where your first thought is: I think I have just enough energy to survive….
Mother, however, was up and dressed, and already had a frantic demeanor that said this was going to be a long day.
“Brandy, dear,” she said, so chipper the pope would have wanted to shake her by the shoulders, “I was rooting around, out in the garage?”
“That’s nice.”
“And I found some more simply delightful items that I think would really spruce up the old booth.”
The “old” two-day-old booth.
“Wonderful.” I yawned. “We should do that when we get around to it.”
“No better time than the present!”
One good cliché deserves another.
I said, “There’s no rush.”
Mother’s eyes went wild behind the huge glasses. “Oh, but, actually, there is! Brandy, we mustn’t dawdle!”
“Please don’t say the early bird catches the—”
“Frankly, I have a confession to make. Something I’m truly ashamed of.”
I looked over at her with my eyelids at half-mast. This should be good.
“I woke up in the middle of the night, realized that I put too low a price on the amber vase! I want to get down to the antiques mall before it opens, and correct my error.”
I closed my eyes and mentally groaned.
But, good daughter that I am, I asked, “When do you think Mrs. Norton will get there?” (I wasn’t such a good daughter that I relished the notion of cooling my heels in my Buick outside the place.)
“Why, she’s probably there now, if I know the woman, tacking up more signs. Her efficiency is matched only by her energy. Pent-up sexual tension, you know.”
This rolled up my eyelids like window shades given too hard a tug. “How’s that?”
“Well, these other older women, a widow like Mrs. Norton, they don’t have the good sense to make sure their sexual needs are—”
I held up a hand before I could get chapter and verse on how unmarried women mother’s age dealt with their sexual needs. “We’ll go, Mother. We’ll go.”
“Good. I’m glad you thought of it!”
Ignoring that, I said, “But Jake isn’t up. I don’t think he’ll be thrilled by another trip to the antiques mall.”
“Just leave the dear boy a note,” Mother replied with a shrug. “He’ll probably sleep until noon, anyway.”
I sighed. “Can I at least have my Count Chocula first?”
“If you must.”
I must…and poured a bowl of the sugary, chocolatey cereal—Jake’s and my favorite. And did my best to avoid any images that might be triggered by Mother’s sexual needs remark….
When I returned upstairs to dress (jeans, Citizens for Humanity; top, Johnny Was), Jake was still in the spare bedroom, the little devil sleeping like an angel. I left a message telling him where we were, a Post-it stuck to his Game Boy where he’d be sure to find it.
Mother
Another wave. “I’ll pay whatever it’s tagged…. Where is this mall located?”
“It’s a new one, back in Serenity.” I told Troy how to get there, then noticed the wall clock. “But you’ll have to hurry…they close in about twenty minutes.”
“Then you’ll excuse me if I go…?” He tossed a tenspot on the table.
“No problem,” I said. “And thanks for the drink.”
He didn’t stay long enough for “You’re welcome.”
And as quickly as he left, Troy’s true interest clearly was in that desk and not in my bodacious bod; oh well. I hailed Tweety Bird, and got Jake a Coke to go.
Halfway home I’d realized we’d forgotten to get the damn pumpkin.
A Trash ’n’ Treasures Tip
Some dealers will fabricate a fantastic story about an antique just to sell it. For instance, if you’re told a rolltop desk was once owned by Mamie Eisenhower, or Mamie Van Doren for that matter, ask for proof before buying it.
Chapter Six
Let Sleeping Dogs Die
T he next morning I awoke early, brushed my teeth, threw some cold water on my face, and stumbled down to the kitchen to fix myself breakfast. It was the kind of morning where your first thought is: I think I have just enough energy to survive….
Mother, however, was up and dressed, and already had a frantic demeanor that said this was going to be a long day.
“Brandy, dear,” she said, so chipper the pope would have wanted to shake her by the shoulders, “I was rooting around, out in the garage?”
“That’s nice.”
“And I found some more simply delightful items that I think would really spruce up the old booth.”
The “old” two-day-old booth.
“Wonderful.” I yawned. “We should do that when we get around to it.”
“No better time than the present!”
One good cliché deserves another.
I said, “There’s no rush.”
Mother’s eyes went wild behind the huge glasses. “Oh, but, actually, there is! Brandy, we mustn’t dawdle!”
“Please don’t say the early bird catches the—”
“Frankly, I have a confession to make. Something I’m truly ashamed of.”
I looked over at her with my eyelids at half-mast. This should be good.
“I woke up in the middle of the night, realized that I put too low a price on the amber vase! I want to get down to the antiques mall before it opens, and correct my error.”
I closed my eyes and mentally groaned.
But, good daughter that I am, I asked, “When do you think Mrs. Norton will get there?” (I wasn’t such a good daughter that I relished the notion of cooling my heels in my Buick outside the place.)
“Why, she’s probably there now, if I know the woman, tacking up more signs. Her efficiency is matched only by her energy. Pent-up sexual tension, you know.”
This rolled up my eyelids like window shades given too hard a tug. “How’s that?”
“Well, these other older women, a widow like Mrs. Norton, they don’t have the good sense to make sure their sexual needs are—”
I held up a hand before I could get chapter and verse on how unmarried women mother’s age dealt with their sexual needs. “We’ll go, Mother. We’ll go.”
“Good. I’m glad you thought of it!”
Ignoring that, I said, “But Jake isn’t up. I don’t think he’ll be thrilled by another trip to the antiques mall.”
“Just leave the dear boy a note,” Mother replied with a shrug. “He’ll probably sleep until noon, anyway.”
I sighed. “Can I at least have my Count Chocula first?”
“If you must.”
I must…and poured a bowl of the sugary, chocolatey cereal—Jake’s and my favorite. And did my best to avoid any images that might be triggered by Mother’s sexual needs remark….
When I returned upstairs to dress (jeans, Citizens for Humanity; top, Johnny Was), Jake was still in the spare bedroom, the little devil sleeping like an angel. I left a message telling him where we were, a Post-it stuck to his Game Boy where he’d be sure to find it.
Mother
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