Page 72 of The Art Of Starting Over

“Devorah,” Maureen said. “Am I to understand you organize yard sales?”

Devy blanched and masked her reaction. Her job had been more than organizing yard sales. “It was estate sales.”

“What’s the difference?” she asked in a made-up posh accent.

“Well, for one, usually the homeowner is dead,” Devy stated more for effect than anything.

“Oh well, I’m certainly not dead, and if I am”—she paused and looked around—“if this is what death looks like, I want a refund.”

Devorah said nothing.

“Anyway, when can you organize my yard sale? I have many valuable things that should fetch top dollar.”

Devy smiled kindly. She could tell her again about estate sales, but she feared her words would fall on ears unwilling to listen. “I’m sorry, Maureen. With the festival planning and my job, I don’t have the time right now.”

“Oh well ... I.” Maureen wasn’t used to being told no, and honestly, it felt good for Dev to say it to her. “I suppose I can wait until August.”

“August?”

“When the festival is over.”

“Sure, we can revisit the topic then. Have a good night, Maureen.” Devorah left, needing to get the heck out of there before Tabitha, in her bright neon-pink spandex pants with matching fanny pack, or Anitathe thrice-divorced town pauper, could come up to her. Over the last month, Devorah had learned it was Tabitha who’d kept resharing the videos Ester posted. All Dev wanted was for those videos to go away.

Devorah escaped before anyone else could come up to her. As soon as she stepped inside Crow’s house, she felt oddly at peace. It was warm and inviting, something it hadn’t been when she was a teen. Now there was laughter and dinner waiting for her in the oven.

She went into the living room, where her dad sat in his recliner watching the baseball game. “Who’s winning?” she asked, even though it didn’t matter to her, because it did to him.

“Sox by one.”

“Nerve racking.”

“We had pizza for dinner. Maren left it on the counter for you.”

“Thank you.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek without a second thought. She walked into the kitchen to grab a couple of slices of pizza. When she went to open the box, her hand froze. On it was an advertisement for a local church’s annual tag sale fundraiser. She remembered having to volunteer during her reign as Pearl of the Ocean. Devorah peeled the flyer from the box and studied it as Maureen’s request to organize her yard sale popped into her mind. Could she start her curating business in Oyster Bay? She loved planning. It was like second nature to her. So what if it was yard sales and not estates. She put the flyer on the table, to save for later, and then put a couple of slices onto a plate and went back into the living room. “Where’s Maren?”

“Taking a shower,” Crow said without taking his eyes off the television.

“How did practice go?” She sat down on the sofa, with Cordelia at her feet.

“Fine,” he said with a groan. “That Noble boy is going to put me into an early grave. He’s like his father. Never listens.”

“He’s a young kid. He’ll learn.”

Crow huffed. “We’ll see.”

The house phone rang, and Crow groaned again. He kicked his recliner into place and ambled his way toward the kitchen, where the phone hung on the wall. When Colt and Devorah were teens, the cord had been thirty feet long and coiled into a ball from the constant stretching. Crow wouldn’t let them have a phone in their rooms, nor would he pay for cell phones.

“Hello?” he said gruffly into the receiver. Whoever was on the other end should’ve known better than to call the house phone during a baseball game.

The long pause caught Dev’s attention. Crow mumbled something unintelligible and came into the other room.

“That ex of yours is on the phone.”

Devorah sat there staring at her father, who had retaken his seat.

“If you don’t want to talk to him, hang up. And whatever you do, don’t agree to anything,” Crow said as he looked at her.

Slowly, Devy stood and carried her plate into the kitchen. She wasn’t in a hurry to talk to Chad and needed the extra seconds to compose herself. She set it down on the counter and looked at the cream-colored handset sitting on top of the base.

---