Page 26 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“Shut it,” she replied, no heat in her tone. “When people sell shit in the local groups, they just want to get rid of their stuff, so it’s usually cheaper than actual estate sales where they’re trying to make a profit.”

“She’s not wrong.” Lou chuckled.

“Anyway,” Mom said. “I’m looking for jadeite, so if you see some, let me know.”

“Got it,” Frankie replied. “I’m still searching for matching nightstands. The condition doesn’t matter as much because I’ll refinish them anyway.”

“Any specific style?”

“I’m not sure what I’m looking for yet,” Frankie replied. “I’ll know when I see them.”

“Pyrex for me,” Lou said. “Any of them. I’m not picky, but conditiondoesmatter.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” my mom said happily. “What about you, daughter? Looking for anything specific?”

“Nope, just there to browse.”

“Which means you’ll come home with more than the rest of us put together,” Lou joked.

“Probably,” I said, grinning at her over my shoulder. “I’m keeping an eye out for Christmas, though, and anything I get for someone else doesn’t really count.”

“That seems fair,” Lou agreed.

“I’m already half done with Christmas,” my mom said proudly. “I thought buying for five kids was overwhelming when you guys were little. I really should’ve realized at some point you would have families of your own and the gifts would multiply exponentially.”

“We should do an exchange,” I replied distractedly, looking at my phone again. No notifications. “We could do a secret Santa or something. Then you wouldn’t have to buy so many.”

Mom hummed. “No, I like getting presents for everyone.”

“Okay, well, the rest of us wouldn’t have to buy presents for twenty people,” I said with a laugh.

“You can discuss that with your sisters-in-law,” Mom replied. “But I’m buying presents for everyone.”

“Fair enough.”

“Aw, shit,” Frankie grumbled, pulling into the grass in front of an old house. There were cars everywhere. “There’s so many people here already.”

“Divide and conquer,” my mom advised.

We trudged up to the house and weaved our way through the crowd. It always felt a little weird at estate sales. Garage sales were different, people put the things they wanted to sell right out front—you weren’t actually in their house. At estate sales, it was like walking into life interrupted. There were clothes in the closets, dishes in the cupboards, and furniture set out in the rooms.

I always wondered where the people had gone. Were they dead or just downsizing? The estate sales that a company was hosting were the creepiest, because inevitably I overheard them saying too much about the owners of the house or absolutely refusing to say anything—which always made me imagine the worst. It felt intensely personal to go through a stranger’s things, deciding if there was anything you wanted to take home with you. It was even worse to see other people being careless with the treasures someone had spent their life accumulating.

The whole thing gave me the creeps, but I ignored it as I followed my mom through the house. I wished I was home in my pajamas.

To be fair, Ididlike searching for treasures, I just liked finding them in second-hand stores more.

“Stick with me, kid.” Mom twined her arm through mine as I watched some guy pick up an old watch and then toss it carelessly back onto a table. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“These people should have some respect,” I said, not bothering to lower my voice. “All this stuff was important to someone at some point.”

A woman hurried out of our way.

“It’s easy to forget,” Mom said, tugging me along. “But I hear you. When me and Dad die, just take what you want and donate everything else to a woman’s shelter or something. I’d rather give it to someone who needs it.”

“You’re never going to die,” I replied. “I refuse to even think about it.”

“That’s my girl,” she teased. “Bury that head in the sand.”

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