Life's a Beach by Claire Cook

trouble.

    The fisherman’s hat lady was sniffing now. “Clutter can kill a sale,” she said, “but we have to think about all five senses. Pet owners can’t smell their own pets, so pets are a particular liability. You might want to consider boarding the cat until after the open house. That way we can take the kitty toys and the litter box right out of here.”

    Boyfriend jumped up beside me and burrowed under the sheets. Maybe we could find a kennel that would take both of us.

    “Size really does matter,” the Easter bonnet lady said. The three of them giggled, and I rolled my eyes. “The rule of thumb,” she continued, “is to get rid of half of everything, and the place will look twice as big. Especially in the closet. And the underwear drawers. Only the sexy items should stay. People think they’re buying a house, but they’re really buying a fantasy.”

    My own personal fantasy was that they’d all disappear before any of them found my underwear drawer.

    “Selling a house,” the fisherman’s hat lady was saying, “is a lot like making love. Setting the mood is half the battle.” She walked over to a window and pulled up the old venetian blind. “People will pay a premium for good light. We’ll want to keep these blinds up and the windows open from now on, dear.”

    “Pink lightbulbs will help, too,” the other woman said. “You should be using them anyway, hon. Now that you’re no longer a spring chickadee, they’re much more flattering.” She grabbed the handle of my father’s scooter and pulled it away from the wall. “I didn’t realize we had children here. We’ll have to make them scarce, too.”

    “No children,” my mother said. “I have no idea where that old thing came from, but I’m sure Ginger can send it off to Take It or Leave It with her father.”

    “Be careful what books and magazines you have lying around,” the Easter lady said. “Nothing risqué and nothing partisan. Voting for the wrong candidate can cost you a sale.”

    “Does that mean I have to get rid of the autographed picture of the president I sent away for?” I asked.

    “Well,” the fisherman lady said, “normally I like to turn down the bed and put a chocolate on the pillow to give the air of a fancy hotel, but I think we’re better off leaving the sleeper sofa folded up to optimize the floor space. We’ll play some nice Paul Anka music, though.”

    She took a few steps around and sniffed some more. “And we still need to discuss flowers. Fragrant flowers will make a big difference in here. And maybe a drop of vanilla on each of the lightbulbs.”

    “Don’t forget the plug-in fireplace you mentioned,” my mother said.

    “We’ll drop that off later in the week,” the Easter lady said.

    “Can’t wait,” I said.

    My mother had worked her way over to my kitchen table and was staring down at my cat’s creation. “My goodness, Ginger. This is lovely. I had no idea you were so talented.”

    The other two women joined my mother. “Marvelous,” one of them said. “But get it up on a wall or get it out of here.”

    “PSST,” MY FATHER SAID from my doorway about two minutes later.

    I conked my head against the back of my sleeper sofa. “Come on in, Dad.”

    My father dropped two new garbage bags in the middle of my floor and bent down to give Boyfriend a pat. “How’s it going, Champ?”

    Boyfriend licked my father’s hand briefly, then went back to grooming himself.

    “Don’t worry,” my father said when he straightened up again. “I didn’t miss a word. You can hear everything that goes on up here from down in the garage.”

    “Great, Dad. I’ll keep that in mind.”

    “You would not believe what I found today at the Take It or Leave It, Toots.” My father untwisted the tie on one of the bags and dumped its contents on my floor. Before I closed my eyes I saw a toy jukebox, a sheriff’s badge, and a KISS THE COOK sign.

    When I opened them again, my father