Sell Low, Sweet Harriet

by Sherry Harris

  I decided I’d better figure out what to wear to the dining-out. All my fancy dresses were packed in a plastic tub in the attic. I hadn’t needed them since I’d moved to Ellington. During the time CJ had been active duty, I’d attended many events that called for cocktail dresses or ball gowns. Some of them got donated because fashions changed. I shuddered thinking about the one with the enormous padded shoulders. But I’d kept others that were more classic.

  I flipped the latch to the attic space, opened the door, and flipped on the light. As soon as I crawled through the door, I could stand up. Lots of boxes were tucked under the eaves. I shivered as I looked through the jumble of things I’d been collecting. This space wasn’t heated and the wind howled like it was in pain. I realized once spring came I did have enough stuff to do my own garage sale. Preparing for it would help these long winter nights pass more quickly.

  I moved a wicker chair someone had left out on a curb. It had been terribly dirty when I found it, but nothing else seemed to be wrong with it. I had cleaned off the dirt and cobwebs before I had brought it up here. I shoved aside a few boxes of books. Behind them I spotted the bin with my dresses in it. I had to duck-walk over to it and drag it behind me until I could stand back up.

  I shoved it out of the attic space, crawled back into the living room, and re-latched the door. I set the box on the trunk by my sofa and pried the lid off. I started lifting dresses out, remembering events I’d worn them to with CJ by my side, handsome in his mess dress. I was finally getting to a place where I could remember our life together and not feel so sad. We’d both moved on with our separate lives and I was glad for him. But he’d always be with me to some extent.

  After digging through the dresses, I scooped up a deep blue velvet dress, and took it to my room to try on. The wind gusted hard as I put on the velvet dress. I loved the color against my pale skin and with my blond hair. It still clung in all the right places and the slit allowed me to move easily. This was the one.

  I was about to change when someone knocked on my door. I felt awkward answering in formal wear. I peeked through the peephole and saw a bunch of red roses in Seth’s arms. My heart shook harder than the wind at the windows. I swung open the door, a little embarrassed by my attire.

  Seth stared at me for a couple of beats before taking my hand and leading me into the living room. He twirled me a couple of times.

  “I do declare, Miss Sarah, that you are the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  It was funny to hear his mock Southern accent with his slight Bostonian one. But that was quite the compliment since he had a history of dating models. My face warmed. Would I ever get over blushing? I did a little curtsy. “Why, thank you. You don’t look bad yourself.” His black suit, purple tie, and white shirt fit him perfectly.

  Seth tossed the roses on the trunk, pulled me close, dipped me, and kissed me until my toes curled, which took just about two seconds.

  “I’m not sure it’s legal for you to be out in a dress like this,” he said when he righted me. His eyes glowed. “Men will be walking into walls or falling over their own feet with one look at you.”

  Part of me wished that was true, but it was lovely to hear. Seth pulled me close again. “And as much as I like seeing you in this dress, I’d really like to see you out of it. Turn around.”

  I smiled as he slowly unzipped it and pressed kisses down my back.

  Chapter Fourteen

  For once I was up before Seth, and on a Friday morning no less. Troubled by what I had heard about Alicia and poison, I’d gotten up and made coffee. Now I was searching for any such news online. I sat at my small kitchen table, laptop open, drinking a cup of coffee so strong I might not need another cup all day. The wind was still looping the house, but the snow had stopped.

  Seth walked in, hair mussed, buttoning his now wrinkled shirt. I clicked off the search. “Coffee?” I asked.

  “You’re up earlier than normal,” he said.

  “Alicia’s death has been keeping me awake. It’s just so sad,” I said. “Want some scrambled eggs?” It’s the one thing I usually didn’t screw up. Well, that and Fluffernutters, but you could only offer a man so many Fluffernutters.

  “I’d love some.” Seth poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter as I took eggs, milk, feta, and chopped green onion out of the refrigerator. “Looks fancy.” Seth grinned at me. “Anything else keeping you up?”

  “I suppose that means you know about the mystery man from the hospital.”

  Seth nodded, then sipped his coffee. “This is good.”

  I put a pan on the burner and added a pat of butter. I started whisking the eggs, waiting for Seth to comment further. Expecting the worst—some kind of trouble follows you, be careful speech. I poured the eggs into the pan, added feta and the green onions, scrambling with a vengeance.

  “Hey, look, whatever it is you’re thinking about, you don’t need to take it out on those poor eggs.” Seth nudged me out of the way with his hip and took over.

  Good lord, it was hard to be angry with the man. Especially when I was making up things I thought he was going to say while he just stood there drinking his coffee. “Pellner told you. Is it why you came over?”

  “Pellner told me. But I would have come over anyway because I wanted to see you. Peeling that dress off you last night was the highlight of my week.”

  I got two plates out. “Having been peeled was the highlight of mine.”

  Seth divided the eggs onto the two plates and carried them to the table. I still hadn’t taken off the vintage Christmas tablecloth with its bright poinsettias. My parents had come for Christmas, although they stayed over at my brother’s place because he had more room. They’d met Seth, even though I wasn’t ready for that, but there’d been no avoiding it. And they all seemed to like each other. My mother had only made one comment about it being too soon. I grabbed silverware and napkins and sat across from Seth.

  “Mike Titone moved in next door,” I said.

  “Really? When?”

  I tried to assess his tone. It sounded neutral. “Yesterday. He didn’t tell you?” I took a bite of the scrambled eggs. The feta had melted perfectly and the green onions added just the right tang.

  “No. But I saw an empty chair by the apartment door when I came over, so I wondered what was up.”

  I liked that he hadn’t quizzed me about it. That he waited for me to tell him. I filled him in on why Mike had moved back in.

  Seth reached over and laid his hand over mine. “Just take care,” he said.

  “I will. I hired someone to help me with the sale at Jeannette’s house, so I won’t be there alone.”

  “That’s good. You’re smart. It’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

  I shoved some eggs into my mouth to cover for the myriad of emotions rushing through me at Seth saying the word “love.” After I chewed and swallowed my heart rate was almost back to normal. And I figured out something to say that didn’t include love. “It makes me feel safer too. But I can’t imagine the guy coming back when I’m there.”

  “Let’s hope not.” We finished our eggs. Seth washed the dishes while I dried, before kissing me and leaving.

  * * *

  I tried one more search using “poison” and “Alicia” but nothing came up. After that I checked on my virtual garage sale. I’d set it up last winter to keep an income stream going. I sold things, got paid for ads, sold things for clients and got a commission from them. The virtual garage sale had grown more and more popular. Mostly that was great, but occasionally the large group could create problems. People wouldn’t follow the rules or they’d post things I wouldn’t allow them to sell, like weapons and animals.

  Even worse, someone would start talking about local politics. There were plenty of other groups that did that, and I took all those kinds of posts down. But sometimes someone in the group would send a nasty message to me. Banning them was the only solution, and I knew that did
n’t go over well because then they emailed me through my website. It always amazed me how riled up strangers could get with each other online. Fortunately, today everything seemed to be going smoothly. I looked at a few items including an abstract oil painting, but talked myself out of buying it.

  After a few minutes of mulling over the pros and cons, I put up an ISO, in search of, post for cobalt glass. It might save me time shopping. However, it also meant that a seller would know I wanted the item, making it harder to negotiate a better price.

  By the time I was finished I had to get ready to meet Zoey at Jeannette’s parents’ house. I put on a pair of leggings and a warm, loose sweater. As I trotted down the stairs to leave, Stella came out of her apartment.

  “Is it going okay with Mike next door?” she asked.

  “I’ve hardly seen him.”

  “Is Seth okay with it?” A worry line creased between her brows.

  “He knows. If he’s not okay with it, I’m guessing he’ll talk to Mike about it and not me.”

  I filled her in on what had happened at Jeannette’s parents’ house.

  “That’s scary.”

  I described the man to her. “If you see him, call Awesome.”

  “If I see him, I’ll faint.”

  I laughed. Stella was made of way tougher stuff than that.

  * * *

  Zoey was a petite woman, with a boisterous laugh and an unnatural tan that screamed tanning booth addict. She gripped my hand and squeezed until I almost squeaked in pain. But I didn’t get the impression that she did it maliciously. She just didn’t get that her grip was a bit overwhelming. If Fake Troy or his partner in whatever showed up, I thought we could take them. Zoey could shake their hands and bring them to their knees while I called the police.

  “I’m so excited to be here,” Zoey said.

  “Great. Do you have much experience with garage sales?” I asked.

  “A little. I like to go to them.”

  “Me too. Let me show you around the house first,” I said. “They are selling everything that’s left except for some of the stuff in the office that Jeannette still needs to go through.”

  “Holy crap,” Zoey said as we walked down the hall.

  “Every inch of wall space is covered with stuff.” She squinted her eyes. “That looks like a basket my husband brought back from Malawi. And those look like chopsticks. Who hangs chopsticks on their wall?”

  “They have a lot of stuff,” I agreed. I didn’t want to denigrate their decorating choices out loud, even though no one would hear us. It didn’t seem respectful. After the tour I led her back to the living room, where I’d been working since I first started. The whole process had been much slower than I thought it would be. Of course I’d had some significant interruptions.

  “How in the world do you decide how to price this stuff?” Zoey’s voice boomed off the walls. It was loud for someone so small.

  “Some of it is just from studying items at garage sales for a lot of years. Some of it is from knowing antiques. But I end up looking up a lot of things.”

  “Where do you look them up?” she asked.

  “I’ll look online. Sites like eBay. But I check other sources too. And if I’m really stumped, I set it aside and contact a friend in Acton who owns an antique store.” I pointed to a box near the cold, empty fireplace. “That box is for the things I need my friend to price.”

  “Do you ever get it wrong?”

  “Occasionally, but I’ve worked hard at making sure I price things properly. It puts money in my clients’ pockets as well as mine.”

  “What do you want me to work on?” Zoey asked.

  “How about clothes?” They were usually simple to price. “If anything happens to have tags, bring it out and we’ll price it together. Or if anything looks unusual or is by a famous designer.”

  “Okay.”

  “If something is really worn or stained, set it aside in a separate pile.” I explained how I priced regular everyday clothes.

  “Sounds good. Thanks again for taking a chance on me. It’s hard to find a job that’s only during school hours.”

  “You’re welcome.” I smiled at her back as she hurried down the hall. I was the lucky one. I got back to work. Having someone else in the house dispelled the boogeyman feeling that had lingered over me. I hummed my away around the room, pricing, looking up prices, and setting a few things aside for my friend in Acton. So far she’d been pricing things for free for me, but with this lot I would insist on paying her. Friendship only went so far.

  “Sarah!”

  We’d been working an hour when Zoey startled me by shouting. I raced down the hall, heart thumping. I skittered into the master bedroom. “What?” My eyes darted around. No bodies or blood. All of the windows were closed.

  Zoey pointed to the bed. “Look at all these designer dresses.”

  I patted my heart. Her voice had been excited, not panicked. I had to quit thinking the worst when someone called out to me.

  “There’s Halston, Chanel, and an original Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress!” She held up a slinky black dress. “It’s an Oscar de la Renta.” Zoey’s voice was almost reverent.

  I smiled. “Wow. This is amazing.” And they looked like my size.

  “I know I don’t look it today”—Zoey gestured at her leggings and baggy sweatshirt—“but I’ve always loved vintage clothes.” She sighed. “Although none of these are my size.” She looked me up and down. “They might fit you though. You have to try one on. My choice.”

  “I really shouldn’t.” There was so much work to do.

  “Come on. It will be fun. All work and no play makes Sarah a dull girl.”

  I had been dull lately. I sometimes wondered why Seth was hanging around. “Okay. One dress.”

  Zoey took her time going through the dresses. “Here, this one.”

  It was a stunner. A sleek gold lamé number that glowed in the dim overhead light. I took it into the master bathroom and hurriedly got out of my leggings and sweater. The dress slid like liquid gold over me. The hem hit the floor, but would be just the right length with a pair of heels on. Jeannette’s mother must have been about my height.

  “Come out. Let me see,” Zoey hollered.

  I turned once in front of the full mirror. The light shimmered across the fabric. The dress was beautiful. Long sleeved with a plunging neckline, a mixture of naughty and nice. I held the dress up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and went out. “Tada,” I said, throwing my arms out like I was a starlet from the forties.

  “It’s like it was made for you,” Zoey said.

  The front door banged against the safety chain. What now?

  Chapter Fifteen

  I held up the extra fabric of the dress and hustled down the hall.

  “Sarah?”

  It was Jeannette.

  “Hang on,” I said. “Let me take off the safety chain.” I undid the chain and let Jeannette in.

  She had a paper bag in her hand with food that smelled delicious. “I was knocking and got worried when you didn’t answer. I saw your car so I knew you were here. Oh.” Jeannette looked me over.

  “I shouldn’t have tried it on.”

  “It’s my fault.”

  I jumped at Zoey’s voice. The carpet had dulled her steps. Jeannette was so focused on the dress she didn’t see Zoey come around the corner. I introduced the two of them.

  “Your mom’s clothes are so beautiful. I convinced Sarah to try it on,” Zoey said.

  “Did you think I’d be mad?” Jeannette asked. She shook her head. “I remember the night my mom wore that dress. We were in Hong Kong. I was only five or six.”

  “Where were they going?” I asked.

  “To some fancy event at an embassy. My dad was an attaché to the American embassy.” She used finger quotes around the word attaché.

  “So CIA?” I asked.

  “Everyone knows attachés are spies.” Jeannette shrugged. “I’m not sure if they
were CIA then or not.”

  “How can you remember that from so long ago?” Zoey asked.

  “One reason is my mom looked so dazzling. The other is that I got in a lot of trouble that night.”

  Zoey and I exchanged glances.

  “What kind of trouble can you get into when you’re five?” I asked.

  “We were staying at a hotel. We’d only been in Hong Kong for a couple of weeks and we hadn’t found an apartment yet.” Jeannette smiled at the memory. “My parents left my brother in charge. We got hungry while they were gone so I ordered room service.”

  “How did you pull that off?” I asked.

  “Even as a kid my voice was deep. My brother wrote out what I should say. I ordered the pupu platter, fried rice, Szechuan chicken, which was so spicy my eyes watered, and beef lo mein noodles.” Jeannette smiled again. “It was the best meal of my life, but maybe because of the subterfuge.”

  “What did you do when the food came?” Zoey looked skeptical.

  “My brother said our mother was in the bathroom. I yelled from behind the bathroom door to let him sign the receipt. The man let him. My brother even managed to give him a good tip.”

  “How did you get in trouble?” I asked.

  “Our parents came home and saw the remains of our feast. We had strict instructions not to open the door while they were out.”

  We all laughed.

  “It was just the beginning of my getting in trouble.” A small frown passed over Jeannette’s face. “But the last five years have been great.”

  I wondered if that had anything to do with the will, why her brother was executor, and the odd split. She seemed like a wonderful person now. “I’ll go change and get back to work.”