ground, it seemed, had a table on it with a sign listing prices for those items. There were aprons and axes, teddy bears and ties. A hand-lettered sign at the bottom of the driveway said SALE BEGINS AT NOON.
Already, however, there were a few browsers wandering among the tables, fingering the embroidered bedspreads, checking the price on a cake pan, measuring the width of a plant stand, or trying on a raincoat. Mrs. Larson hovered over the cash box and tried to keep an eye on everyone at once.
“Hi,” said Wally, and followed that up with, “Where are the pictures?”
“I couldn't bring them now, Wally, because I came from the game. I didn't think you'd want me taking them
there,
” said Caroline.
“If you don't give them to me, Caroline…,” Wally said threateningly.
“I
will
! I
promise
!” Caroline said.
Mrs. Larson called them over and handed Wally a Polaroid camera. “I want you to take a picture of every table before we start the sale,” she said, half shouting because she could hardly hear herself. “We want to put them in our auxiliary newsletter so the women can see what wonderful donations we had this year. The people of Buckman have never been more generous.”
Caroline and Wally wandered up and down the rows of folding tables, checking to see that all was well and pausing while Wally took pictures of table after table. As the photos came out of the camera and began to develop, it appeared that Caroline had somehow managed to be in each one, looking directly into the camera and smiling.
The sugar bowl and creamer from Susan Kemp, the framed photograph from Jenny Bloomer, the copper lamp from Edna Ballinger, the ceramic figurines from the Wheelers…a place for everything, and everything in its place. All the while Mrs. Larson, whose voice carried all over the yard, chattered away with neighbors who had come by to check out the sale.
A woman in a blue jacket came up to a display and smiled at Caroline. She smiled at Wally. Then she began walking around the tables, not stopping to look at much of anything until she saw the framed photograph from Jenny Bloomer, showing two stern-looking elderly people in rocking chairs. She picked it up and examined the back.
Over she came to Wally and took a twenty-dollar bill from her purse. “I'll take this, please,” she said. “The price says fifteen dollars.”
“The sale doesn't start till noon,” Wally said. “We're just letting people look.”
“But I can't come back at noon,” the woman said. She put the twenty-dollar bill on the table where the framed photograph had been.
“I can't sell it now. I can't give you change,” Wally said, reaching for the photograph. “It's against the rules.” He looked over at Mrs. Larson, hoping she would come and talk to the woman. But Mrs. Larson had her back to them and was chatting with someone else. When Wally turned toward the woman in the blue jacket again, she was walking down the driveway, the framed photo in her arms, the twenty-dollar bill left behind.
Caroline saw, and shrugged. “What can we do, Wally? She wanted it, she got it. She paid for it, after all, and the auxiliary gets to keep the change.”
“I suppose so,” said Wally. He picked up the twenty-dollar bill and walked beside Caroline to Mrs. Larson. They waited politely while Mrs. Larson said goodbye to the woman she'd been talking with and that woman turned to go.
Caroline nudged Wally. “Get a look at those bright red toenails,” she giggled.
Wally turned and stared at the woman who had been talking with Mrs. Larson. Then he turned some moreand saw her catch up farther down the sidewalk with the woman who had taken the framed photo.
Suddenly Wally grabbed Caroline's arm. “Caroline!” he gasped. “It's them!”
“Who?” asked Caroline.
“The women who tried to get in our house. The last time I saw them, the one with the photograph was wearing a pink jacket. And I'd recognize the red toe-nails on the other one
Already, however, there were a few browsers wandering among the tables, fingering the embroidered bedspreads, checking the price on a cake pan, measuring the width of a plant stand, or trying on a raincoat. Mrs. Larson hovered over the cash box and tried to keep an eye on everyone at once.
“Hi,” said Wally, and followed that up with, “Where are the pictures?”
“I couldn't bring them now, Wally, because I came from the game. I didn't think you'd want me taking them
there,
” said Caroline.
“If you don't give them to me, Caroline…,” Wally said threateningly.
“I
will
! I
promise
!” Caroline said.
Mrs. Larson called them over and handed Wally a Polaroid camera. “I want you to take a picture of every table before we start the sale,” she said, half shouting because she could hardly hear herself. “We want to put them in our auxiliary newsletter so the women can see what wonderful donations we had this year. The people of Buckman have never been more generous.”
Caroline and Wally wandered up and down the rows of folding tables, checking to see that all was well and pausing while Wally took pictures of table after table. As the photos came out of the camera and began to develop, it appeared that Caroline had somehow managed to be in each one, looking directly into the camera and smiling.
The sugar bowl and creamer from Susan Kemp, the framed photograph from Jenny Bloomer, the copper lamp from Edna Ballinger, the ceramic figurines from the Wheelers…a place for everything, and everything in its place. All the while Mrs. Larson, whose voice carried all over the yard, chattered away with neighbors who had come by to check out the sale.
A woman in a blue jacket came up to a display and smiled at Caroline. She smiled at Wally. Then she began walking around the tables, not stopping to look at much of anything until she saw the framed photograph from Jenny Bloomer, showing two stern-looking elderly people in rocking chairs. She picked it up and examined the back.
Over she came to Wally and took a twenty-dollar bill from her purse. “I'll take this, please,” she said. “The price says fifteen dollars.”
“The sale doesn't start till noon,” Wally said. “We're just letting people look.”
“But I can't come back at noon,” the woman said. She put the twenty-dollar bill on the table where the framed photograph had been.
“I can't sell it now. I can't give you change,” Wally said, reaching for the photograph. “It's against the rules.” He looked over at Mrs. Larson, hoping she would come and talk to the woman. But Mrs. Larson had her back to them and was chatting with someone else. When Wally turned toward the woman in the blue jacket again, she was walking down the driveway, the framed photo in her arms, the twenty-dollar bill left behind.
Caroline saw, and shrugged. “What can we do, Wally? She wanted it, she got it. She paid for it, after all, and the auxiliary gets to keep the change.”
“I suppose so,” said Wally. He picked up the twenty-dollar bill and walked beside Caroline to Mrs. Larson. They waited politely while Mrs. Larson said goodbye to the woman she'd been talking with and that woman turned to go.
Caroline nudged Wally. “Get a look at those bright red toenails,” she giggled.
Wally turned and stared at the woman who had been talking with Mrs. Larson. Then he turned some moreand saw her catch up farther down the sidewalk with the woman who had taken the framed photo.
Suddenly Wally grabbed Caroline's arm. “Caroline!” he gasped. “It's them!”
“Who?” asked Caroline.
“The women who tried to get in our house. The last time I saw them, the one with the photograph was wearing a pink jacket. And I'd recognize the red toe-nails on the other one
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