Betty was busy cataloging items when I arrived, including the coveted dollhouse.
It might be a good birthday present for Claire. Her birthday wasn’t until Halloween, but I knew she’d appreciate it.
“Hi, Betty. Good news! Patsy’s agreed to be the auctioneer on Saturday.”
Betty clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Now I just hope I can get ready in time.”
“Hey, did you ever find out where those pens came from?”
She shook her head. “I went through everything for the police, but I couldn’t find any records. They’re probably filed in some strange place, but they have to be here somewhere. They’ll turn up sooner or later.”
I looked around the crowded office with its haphazard piles of papers covering the desk, with more stacked in the corners and on top of the filing cabinets.
Maybe later rather than sooner.
“It’s strange that no one from the company has contacted me for insurance purposes. Anyway, I’m making sure all the paperwork is correct for this auction,” she said with a firm set to her mouth.
I hid my surprise as I followed her out to the main floor. Angus had always been the one in charge. Guess meek and mild Betty was taking over now.
She gave me the job of labeling the box lots.
I checked the description next to the numbers on my list as I attached the stickers, noting items I’d like to bid on with one part of my brain, while random thoughts skittered through my head. Cataloging all the things I had to take care of: Trying to save Angus, run the store, plan the open house, help with the auction, not to mention the mess at home, which didn’t even feel like mine anymore.
We’d dropped right back into the same old patterns as when Sarah was a teenager—leaving her breakfast dishes in the sink instead of the dishwasher, damp towels across the floor of the bathroom, shoes wherever she happened to kick them off, and clothes strewn everywhere.
Oh, and not to mention Jasper.
I felt like I had to keep an eye on him all the time because no one else did. This morning he’d chewed the cord off the vacuum cleaner while I was taking a shower.
Why did I always have to be the responsible one? My upbringing had centered on following rules and doing the right thing. At school, I was always the one to organize birthday celebrations for the other teachers. I was the one who bought the card and got everyone to sign it. I was the one who stopped at the bakery early before school to pick up the cake.
Why was it always me, damn it?
I slapped on another sticker. Just once, I’d like to do something wild. That’s why hanging out with Angus was so much fun. He made me feel like a kid again. Sometimes we laughed so hard that my stomach literally hurt by the time I got home. Not to say that Joe and I didn’t have fun. But with Angus, he was so irreverent and exuberant, it was a whole different experience—the overflowing joy of simply being alive.
Around nine o’clock, I was exhausted, and so was Betty. I told her I’d be back the next night to help her again.
“Hi, babe,” Joe said as I walked into the kitchen to find him playing cards with Sarah. “We had Chinese. Want me to heat some up for you?”
“In a minute. Right now I need a hug.”
Joe quickly got up and folded me into his arms. I breathed a sigh of relief and held on to him, raising my face up for his kiss.
“Aw, cut out the sappy stuff, you two,” Sarah mock complained, like she did when she was a kid.
Joe and I laughed and we broke apart. He squeezed my shoulders one last time.
I saw a shadow cross Sarah’s face. No doubt she was thinking of her recent ill-fated love affair. For the hundredth time I hoped that one day she’d find the same happiness I’d found with Joe.
*
“The next morning, the temperature was already rising when I got up and let Jasper out into the yard. It would be even hotter and more humid than yesterday, if that was possible.
I hadn’t slept well, and the thought of another long day at the store and another night with Betty was overwhelming me before I’d even begun. A wave of exhaustion, no, more like a tsunami, crashed over me. I hadn’t been this tired since I quit teaching. That schedule of long days and even longer nights spent grading papers and going over lesson plans was a killer. Somehow I’d done it then, but I was out of practice.
“Oh, no!” I exclaimed out loud as I brought the dog back inside. I’d forgotten about my appointment with the designer to see the children’s merchandise. “I can’t believe I did that.”
I was usually so organized. I must be losing my mind. Suddenly I had a glimpse of how Angus must feel. A brain like a cotton ball, tired, worried, and emotionally wrung out to boot.