Page 18 of The Yes Factor

BEX

The Pasadena Society Estate Sale is just a few weekends a year and, in the past, has been full of unique finds. Normally, I’d be pounding the pavement by eight a.m., but with Liv’s jet lag and my need to sleep off the nightmare called Chandace, we leave the house well after eleven.

I’m so close to finishing a project and need the antique gods to guide me to a leather statement piece to tie it all together. Although the process itself can be ugly, and most days my fingernails are darkened by stain or varnish, there’s nothing I love more than the hard work that goes into creating beauty from something that’s been neglected. There are a few antique markets around LA, but good pieces at a reasonable price are hard to find. Occasionally, I don’t mind buying something that’s already been restored, but if I find one more piece of old furniture that’s been painted white or, God forbid, glued with decorative tiles, I might just take an axe to it. As far as I’m concerned, shabby-chic is a curse, not a trend.

I scan the stalls, hoping to find a few overlooked pieces while also trying to keep up with Liv who’s flitting around like a drunk hummingbird.

“Liv! Wait up. What’d you find?” I shout out to Liv, who’s rifling through a cardboard box of scrap fabric with such focus that she doesn’t hear me. “Olivia!” I finally call out in exasperation.

With a smile, Liv pulls out a gorgeous lavender, yellow, and white cloth like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. “Look at this fabric! This would be perfect to recover that Victorian desk chair in your office. Isn’t it great?”

“Shh.” Doesn’t she know anything about bargaining? I was wanting to cover the seat in an old suede, but it’s been impossible to find something I like.

I reach out and finger the fabric. It’s hand embroidered with wild flowers and birds on a thick wool backing, nicely discolored with age yet still sturdy enough to work with. My nose crinkles at the musty smell of dust, earth, and mothballs, like it’s been kept in a basement trunk for decades. Maybe this could actually work on the chair. It’s completely different than what I had in mind, but the colors would contrast so nicely with the cherry wood.

“You’re right. I have to have this. Do you see a price tag on it?” I whisper.

Liv flips the fabric over looking for a tag and I see a small piece of blue painter’s tape that reads $85. I cringe as reality seeps into my bones. This is slow season for my business, and I really shouldn’t be spending money on myself when I came here looking to buy a piece for a client. Most importantly though, I need to save so I have some fun money for going out with Liv this week. But Mama didn’t raise no fool.

I peel off the price tag, and stroll over to the stall owner with a casual attitude and say flippantly, “This is cute, I’ll give you twenty bucks for it.”

I may put on a brave face, but I can feel my underarms start to dampen. I’m desperate to make a deal. The woman looks at me over her purple rimmed glasses with suspicion. She fluffs her auburn bouffant and counters, “Fifty.”

It’s the final day of the last Pasadena Society Estate Sale of the year, and I know this lady wants to move the merch. I counter back, “Thirty. You probably bought this for twenty-five cents at a garage sale off some Altadena cat lady.” I raise a confident eyebrow daring her to relent. She responds with an open palm, grudgingly accepting my price and waiting for the cash.

“Yes! You are a boss.” Liv high fives me as we stroll away, the beautiful vintage fabric flung over my body like Miss America’s victory sash.

I look over at Liv and smile. This is the perfect day. It’s everything I love most—California, Liv, sunshine, and antiques. Old things and an old friend. The only thing missing is Maddie. A wave of bittersweet happiness floods me. Liv’s only been here for two days and I’d forgotten how much joy she brings to my life. She reminds me of who I am, who I used to be, and what I aspire to be. It’s like the ghost of Christmas past, present, and future showed up at my house with a bottle of wine to snap me back into really living.

“I don’t want you to leave. Ever,” I say. “How come we let so much time go by without seeing each other?”

Liv laughs her light bubbly laugh and rolls her eyes. “Aww, come on now. I just got here. We’ve got a lot more trouble to get into!” She puts on a 1930s flapper hat from a nearby rack, then shimmies her shoulders just to make me laugh.

“I’m serious. How did our relationship devolve into one sentence texts and funny memes? What happened to us?”

Liv pauses and puts the hat back on the rack, shrugging off the stern glare of the curmudgeonly stall owner. “I guess life happened? I don’t know…”

“Life?”

“I guess part of me felt like I couldn’t help you. Like, I had nothing to offer. Your struggles with Maddie in elementary school. All the drama with Patrick. I felt like I didn’t know what to say. I don’t even have a kid, so what would I know?”

“Really? You know me better than anyone and if anyone can give me some perspective, you can. I just figured my mundane life was boring to you. You, off in Europe with your cool job and cooler husband. Jet-setting and having late night cocktails in London hot spots. I just couldn’t keep up.”

The bustle of the market surrounding us, we stand in our vortex of silence as we let our truths sink in. Neither of us did anything wrong, we just let our differences divide us, momentarily forgetting that our bond is deeper than the daily struggles of life.

Liv breaks our reverie. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you during the divorce. I should have come right away.” There’s pain in her eyes.

“Liv, it’s okay.” She starts to scoff, wanting to argue the opposite, but I don’t let her. “No, really, it’s okay. It was a hard time, but I’m okay. And anyway, you are here now. That’s all that matters.” I turn into the oncoming crowd and say over my shoulder, “Besides, somebody has to help me drink all the wine I just bought!”

“You know I’m up for that challenge!” Liv hooks her arm through mine.

“I love you.” I lean against her shoulder.

“And I love you.”

It’s just that easy.

The world righted, we amble along in a comfortable silence, glancing from here to there at the assortment of wares. Old watches, dolls, dishes, and clothes, until we come upon a large tented area full of Hollywood memorabilia.

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