“What brings you here?” I asked CJ, leaning close to him and breathing in his scent.
“I was off duty and looking for you since you didn’t answer my calls or texts.”
I dug in my purse and found my phone. Sure enough, three texts and one voice mail. While I had my phone out, I checked for calls from Luke, but there weren’t any. “And you said to yourself, I’ll bet she’s at the American Legion?” It’s not like I’d ever been here before.
“I have my sources.”
Stella snorted. “Yeah, and his ‘sources’ are Awesome.”
“As in great?” I asked.
“No, as in Nathan. I told him we were coming.”
CJ put his hand to his heart. “Stella, you’re ruining my man-of-mystery persona. I’m hurt.”
We all laughed. Awesome came in a few minutes later. The night ended with everyone singing patriotic songs. As CJ drove me home, the weight and worry about Luke settled over me again.
* * *
At 8 AM on Thursday, Carol and I were parked in my old Suburban outside a two-story Colonial home on Great Road in Bedford. From this distance, I couldn’t read the plaque on it that would say who’d originally built the house and how old it was. From the looks of the white clapboard, it was an original. Some of the houses in this area dated back to the 1600s. I clasped my hands around my cup of Dunkin’ coffee to keep from reaching for another of the homemade cinnamon rolls Carol had brought along.
“Remind me again why we are sitting here two hours before the sale even opens,” I said.
“Because this estate sale is going to be huge and I saw a game table I want on the company’s website. It’s one of those really old ones where the top folds over. When it’s closed, it’s a semicircle. The flat back part can sit right against the wall so it takes up less room.” Carol, as usual, looked like an ad in a fashion magazine. High-heeled boots, sweater with a wide belt slung around her hips, and leggings. “Plus there was some china that would help me replace pieces in the set I got from my grandmother. Lots of dealers will show up, and I want to be the first one in the door.”
I shook my head and laughed. “My, what a difference a year makes.” Last spring, I had taken a reluctant Carol to her first yard sale.
“Yeah, you created a monster all right, and I’m not too proud to admit it.”
“You know what they say about early birds,” I said.
“They get the worm, or in this case, the table.”
“And they pay the highest prices. Especially at an estate sale.” I didn’t like estate sales as much as I liked garage sales or going to thrift shops. The prices were usually higher, and they were less likely to negotiate, especially on the first day. But I was happy to spend time with Carol.
We’d seen each other more often now that CJ and I were back together, since CJ and Brad were also friends. We’d done dinner and theater nights in Boston and family game nights with Carol’s twin boys and daughter. The kids called us Aunt Sarah and Uncle Chuck. For some reason, the kids thought the name “Chuck” was hilarious. They loved to yell, “Up Chuck” to him as they held their arms out to be picked up and swung around.
All of us had gone ice-skating on the rink on the town common before spring hit and the ice melted. I was a terrible ice skater. Long ago, someone had told me I had weak ankles, which I think was a nice way of saying I was a klutz. We had picnics planned at Walden Pond in Concord and there’d been talk of camping and fishing. Carol and I planned to let the guys take on that one, and we would have a fun girls’ weekend somewhere. But since I’d seen more of Carol in a couples setting, we’d had less times like this when it was just the two of us.
On the way over, we had talked about my crazy week. I turned to Carol. “So what’s going on with you this week? How is Paint and Wine?”
“The shop’s been really busy, and Olivia hasn’t been able to help as much.” Carol frowned. “I need to find someone more reliable.” She raised her eyebrows at me.
I laughed. “Not me. My garage sale business is booming. How are the kids?”
“They’re all in some type of spring sport, then there’s field trips, and class parties multiplied by three.” Carol smiled. “Getting away this morning is a treat.”
“I ran into Brad a couple of times recently.”
“He’s up to his eyeballs in meetings, and then with you and the security guard getting kidnapped. He’s hardly been home.”
“Do you know the security guard? He must have been terrified.” I thought back to the night at the VA. The seconds between the time the noose had slipped around my neck and when I’d passed out had been the scariest of my life. “I heard he was locked in the trunk for hours.”
“Poor Frank. I’m not sure he’ll continue working there.”
“What’s Frank’s last name? Do I know him?”
Carol bit her lip. “I’m not supposed to tell you. I’ve had strict instructions from both Brad and CJ.”
“You’re going to listen to them?”
“They’re afraid you’ll get in more trouble.”
“I get it, but it’s me you’re talking to.”
Carol threw up her hands. “Frank Thomas. He’s a vet. Older man who was bored after retiring from corporate work.”
“Guess he’s not bored anymore.” My brain was ticking away. Another vet. Was he really kidnapped, or was he in on the whole thing? Brad vouched for him vehemently, but Brad has been acting kind of weird himself.
I noticed Carol was staring at me. “How’s Brad doing with all of this? His job is stressful enough as it is.” The VA hospital system had been a mess, and not everything had been resolved. Fortunately, the VA where Brad worked had been scandal free. I wondered again if that was why Luke was here.
“It keeps him incredibly busy trying to stay on top of everything, new regulations, more inspections. But he’s been amazing and seems to be taking it all in stride. Plus, he’s in a new organization for hospital administrators. They asked him to be the president. It’s lovely for him, but another thing on his plate.”
That was a relief to hear. Maybe he wasn’t acting strangely at all and he was just overworked. “I ran into him a couple of times when I went to see Mrs. Spencer.”
“He’s taking this one personally.” Carol paused. “If you go see Frank and it gets back to CJ or Brad, I’m in big trouble.”
I nodded, not making any promises, and wisely changed the subject. We yakked away until another car pulled in behind us forty-five minutes before the sale. I grabbed some giant canvas totes I always kept in the Suburban. We hustled out of the car and onto the front stoop of the house to start a line.
Chapter 21
“Did you measure the space in your house so you know the table will fit?” I asked Carol, handing her three of the totes. I only kept one for myself because I wasn’t planning on buying anything, but I’d told myself that plenty of times before.
“Oh, darn. I completely forgot.” She got a determined look on her face. “I want the card table. I’ll make it fit.”
To tell the truth, I wasn’t much of a measurer either. I always advised other people to do it, but when I found something I loved, I made it work somehow, much to CJ’s chagrin. I searched my purse. “Here’s a tape measure just in case,” I said, as I handed it to Carol.
By the time we finished filling each other in on what had been going on in our lives, it was almost time for the sale.
Carol looked around. “Good heavens, there’s a lot of people here.”
I looked behind me. The line snaked down the front walkway, to the drive, and out to the sidewalk in front of the house. I recognized a few dealers who regularly attended the garage sales I organized. I had developed a bit of a following and a reputation for being fair.
I turned back to Carol. “A couple of the dealers in line are aggressive about getting what they want. It’s a good thing we got here early.”
“I’m never going to get everything on my list.” Carol frowned, b
ut then her eyes crinkled and she grinned at me. “Sarah?”
I knew from our long friendship that tone of voice meant trouble and most likely for me. “What?”
“I’m going to be the first one in, and if I had a few extra minutes in there by myself, I could grab everything I wanted. Did I mention the necklace I saw? It reminded me of one my dear old gram had.” She batted her eyelashes at me.
I groaned. “And what would this few extra minutes involve?”
“I don’t know. You’re going to be the second one in. Be creative.”
If it was anyone but Carol, I wouldn’t even try to think of a way to delay the crowd. But she’d always been around when I’d needed her, especially when CJ and I had been separated. I sighed. “I’ll do my best.”
The door opened and a smiling woman gestured Carol in. Carol darted past her. Before the woman could turn, I fake tripped and grabbed the woman, pulling her toward me. We both ended up outside the door. “Oh my gosh,” I said, still holding on to her so we blocked the door.
“Are you all right?” Someone tried to edge in around me, but I moved slightly so they couldn’t make it.
“I’m sure I’ll be okay.” But I winced as I pretended to put weight on my ankle.
The woman tried to pull away. “I need to get back in there,” she said.
I clung to her. “Give me one second while I check my ankle. I twisted it. Could you hold my arm for me?”
“Oh dear. Of course.” She turned to the crowd. “Hold on for a minute, people. We need to make sure this woman isn’t injured.” A few people grumbled.
I bent over slowly, lifted the leg of my yoga pants, and studied my ankle. It looked fine, and I was running out of ideas to milk the situation. I stood back up. “I think I’m fine, but could you hold everyone back until I take a couple to steps just to make sure I can get out of their way?” Carol had better appreciate this. I tried to look nervous. “I don’t want to be reinjured trying to get out of the way of the crowd.”
“Absolutely.”
I felt like a jerk. I knew the woman didn’t want to have a liability issue for her company. I grabbed the doorframe like I’d seen Herb do, hauled the rest of my body in, and then took a couple of slow limping steps. I turned back to the woman and gave a nod. “Thanks so much. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I fake limped down a hall to the farthest back bedroom of the house so I wouldn’t have to face anyone for a while.
* * *
The small bedroom had faded cabbage rose wallpaper, white lace curtains, and a chenille bedspread on the double bed. I checked out the tag on the bedspread. Overpriced. I opened a closet door since anything goes at an estate sale like this. Wow, quilts. They were stacked on the top shelf. I stood on my tippy-toes to pull them down and laid them on the bed. My heart beat a little bit faster. The top one was a double wedding ring, hand stitched. One underneath had blocks with women’s names embroidered on them—Chloe, Ursula, Rowena. I wondered who they were, how long ago they’d stitched this quilt together.
Sometimes estate sales made me sad. Why didn’t some family member want these quilts? They were beautiful. But I cheered myself by realizing a sale like this allowed other people the opportunity to love and treasure these things. Maybe someone like me.
I tucked the name quilt into my tote to keep with me as I walked around the sale. It didn’t have a price on it, but I wouldn’t ask until I was at the checkout. Hopefully, there’d be a long line of buyers behind me and whoever manned the register wouldn’t want to leave it to find the real price. A few people asked me if I was okay as I roamed. It was so embarrassing.
I slipped into a study lined with bookcases full of books and a few objets d’art. There was a beautiful brown leather desk chair behind a large mahogany desk. A lamp with a green glass lampshade and an old leather blotter were the only things on it. I trailed a hand across the wood, then went over to the bookshelves and started perusing. I found a book by Marc Cameron, one of CJ’s favorite authors, so I put the quilt next to my feet and flipped the book open to read the cover copy. Maybe CJ hadn’t read this one yet.
“Nice job out there.”
I turned. A man stood there looking down at me. His deep green eyes, wavy jet-black hair, and cleft chin didn’t impress me much. He looked like he thought he was the bomb with his one shoulder resting against the bookcase, feet crossed.
I straightened to my full five-six and lifted my chin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But heat crept up my face. Darn it.
“The ankle seems fine.” He smelled of expensive aftershave and his sweater looked like cashmere, but his jeans were worn and his boots scuffed.
“I’ve always healed quickly.” I realized one hand was on my hip and I was leaning toward him. I straightened, but in my head, I was going over the moves Gennie had taught me the past few days. Man, would I like to use one on this guy.
“You can’t con a con,” he said. Then he winked at me as he headed back to the door of the study.
I stared after him, my hand back on my hip.
“Sarah?” Carol came in carrying totes that looked full. “Excuse me,” she said to the winker. She noticed my red face and turned to look at the very fine backside of the man exiting the room. “What’s going on?”
I pointed at the man. “I guess I won’t be getting any Academy Awards for my performance at the front door. That guy called me out.”
“Do you know him?”
“I’ve never seen him before.”
“What did you do?” Carol laughed as I explained, then she held up her totes. “It was worth it. I got everything I wanted, plus some. Thank you very much.”
“What about the table?”
“They are holding it for me until I’m ready to pay for everything.”
“Are you ready to go?” I asked. While I loved spending time with Carol, Luke was like a shadow following me around.
“I checked. Olivia actually showed up and is covering at the shop this morning. I’m good. I haven’t been down to the basement yet.”
We wandered through the rest of the house and poked in corners of the basement.
“What’s that?” Carol asked.
I peered behind the cedar chest she was pointing at. “Ooooh. It’s an old rag rug. Let’s pull it out.”
We hefted the rug over the chest and unrolled it on the floor. It was a cotton, oval rug. “Wow, someone put a lot of work into this.”
“Someone made it?” Carol asked. She wasn’t a huge fan of antiques.
“Yes, out of old clothes, sheets, or leftover material cut into strips.” This one was soft blues, reds, and whites. “I wish I had a place to put this.”
“What about your bedroom?”
“It would look nice in there.” I found the price and sighed. “It’s too much. At most they’ll come down ten percent and probably not that with the crowd that’s here.” Since it wasn’t Carol’s style, we left it behind.
* * *
When I got home, I dropped the book by Marc Cameron on the trunk that served as my coffee table. I realized CJ might have already read it in the year we were apart. If so, I’d donate it to the library after I read it myself. I hadn’t bought the quilt because the cashier had found someone who knew the price. I hadn’t wanted to pay three hundred dollars for it, even though it was worth every penny and more.
I checked in on the virtual garage sale site. I approved a couple of posts, but everything looked great. One less thing to worry about. I shot off a quick note to the other admin, thanking her. Now that I was home, I started thinking about Luke again. I’d had fun with Carol, but the whole time I was gone, part of me had been worrying about him. He should have gotten hold of me by now. He’d been missing for two days with no word. And granted, we’d been out of touch for much longer than two days, but after how we’d parted at the VA, I knew he’d at least call to make sure I was okay if he could. Wouldn’t he? When I wasn’t keeping busy, fear crawled around inside me. I couldn’t think of a
nything else to do that might help me find him. Or could I?
Chapter 22
Fifteen minutes later, I knocked on the door of a neat Cape-style house off Great Road in Bedford. A man with a ruddy complexion and a slight paunch opened the door.
“I’m Sarah Winston.”
Frank Thomas’s eyes widened. “Yeah, Brad and Chief Hooker told me you’d show up and not to talk to you.”
Darn. CJ and Brad were now upping their game. First, they’d told Carol not to talk to me, and now Frank. I turned to go.
“But to tell you the truth, since I left the army I haven’t been good about following orders. Come on in and let’s swap stories.” He stepped back.
I hesitated for a moment because what if this jovial man was involved in my kidnapping? But I didn’t sense any threat so I entered his living room. It had shiny wood floors, a blue upholstered couch, and two large leather recliners positioned toward a large-screen TV.
“Who’s here?” a woman’s voice called. She appeared, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.
“This is Sarah Winston, Ruth.”
“The woman you aren’t supposed to talk to?” The woman’s dark eyes snapped with energy. Her gray hair was cropped short and she moved like a woman who was used to being in charge.
I looked back and forth between them, knowing I was going to get tossed out.
“We’ve been so anxious to meet you,” Ruth said. “Let me make us some tea, and then we can hear all about you.”
If jaws could actually drop, I’m pretty sure mine did. She hustled out of the room and reappeared a few minutes later with a china tea set and a plate of homemade gingersnap cookies on a tray. Ruth poured me a cup of tea with milk and sugar, not checking to see whether that’s how I liked it. She poured two more cups, passed the cookies, and settled in one recliner while Frank sat in the other. They swiveled to face me with the precision of a drill team.
I took a sip of the tea to gather my thoughts. It was delicious. I set the cup back in its saucer and put it on an end table next to the couch. A framed picture of a group of young men and women dressed in white T-shirts and jeans at a beach was next to the cup. “Your family?” I asked.
A Good Day to Buy Page 13