Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(50)

Mel was stunned. "Did you just cackle?" she asked Muriel.

"I have to admit, this could be way more fun than actually attending an estate sale or auction."

"We could have a problem here," Mel said. "In this whole town I can't think of one person besides you who might know anything about this sort of thing. No matter how many appraisers come to look the stuff over, I wouldn't know how to negotiate a contract with them--I called you because I have a feeling there's valuable stuff here, but I don't know anything about it. Plus, I have patients. And these other ladies have work and families. And--"

"Well, I'm not an expert, but I do have a clue," Muriel said. "Want me to manage the appraisals?"

"Would you? Do you have the time?"

"As long as I get the horses fed, I can be here. For that matter, I'm sure Walt would take care of the horses for me. In fact, he might jump at an alternative to going antiquing with me," she added with a laugh.

While Muriel managed experts and appraisers, Preacher was studying Hope's computer records. It turned out that the local church wasn't the only thing she bought on eBay--the old woman had made a hobby and pastime of buying and selling, and her purchases and sales reached as far as China. And as for china, the Belleek was worth tens of thousands. A couple of the teapots were old English sterling worth a couple of thousand each, and a couple were ancient Chinese teapots that were also very valuable. She didn't actually have a Ming vase, but she'd bid on many.

"And gems?" Mel asked hopefully.

"Pretty rocks," Muriel said, shaking her head. "But that notebook full of scrawls on crinkly paper? Famous signatures. U. S. Grant among them. They should've been framed and preserved but were instead stuffed in a spiral notebook." She tsked. "I'm sorry to say that Hope's treasures will be better cared for out of her hands."

"I think she must have been just entertaining herself," Mel said. "She always acted like a woman with a million things to do, but she looked like a vagrant. Well," she said with a laugh, "there was never a question in my mind that Hope was happy. Cynical and cranky and self-indulgent and totally happy."

"By the way," Muriel asked. "Where is Hope?"

"She wasn't specific about her wishes, except that she be cremated. So far no one has even picked up a hint of what she'd like to have done with her ashes, so the funeral home in Fortuna is keeping them for us. Jack is trying to think of something that would do her justice, that would honor her, but he hasn't come up with anything yet. And although the town is all pissy about not being able get their hands on her money, no one has asked if there will be a funeral."

Muriel looked very sad for a moment and just shook her head. "Don't people disappoint you sometimes?" she asked Mel.

"Sure," she said. "But fortunately not as often as they surprise and impress me. This whole thing isn't over yet. The town will come around--come through."

It took a very dedicated team of people to complete the process of dealing with Hope McCrea's possessions. Muriel St. Claire and her boyfriend, retired general Walt Booth, along with Mike's wife, attorney Brie Valenzuela, managed to select and negotiate a contract from a reputable auction company. The most expedient method was recommended by the appraiser and then approved by Jack--the company would pay a flat rate for the most valuable items, which they would remove from the big old Victorian in the country and take to auction in San Francisco. Preacher and Paige Middleton worked as a team to research some of those items that had been identified, looking up a large percentage of them online; they found the prices quoted by the auction company to be very reasonable. Away went the Belleek, paintings, teapots, collectible signatures and several pieces of furniture.

Pastor Noah Kincaid and his wife, Ellie, worked with their good friends, Jo and Nick Fitch, to create advertising fliers for a sale of what was left; the fliers would be scattered around the towns and cities nearby. They also bought ads in the five largest local newspapers, identifying a weekend estate sale. Items left to be sold were priced and tagged with the help of Muriel, the visiting appraiser and Preacher, checking and cross-checking on Hope's computer.

Then there was the enormous task of separating items that could be sold from items that had to be donated. It took all the Presbyterian Women, the Presbyterian Husbands and many a Presbyterian pickup truck.

And then all was ready. It was a garage sale of grand proportions, most of which took place in the house and on its front and back porches. Cars started to arrive early on Saturday morning and kept coming through the day. It was like a parade--weekend garage and estate sale shoppers from miles and towns away. The sale would be extended through Sunday if anything remained to be sold. A table was set up with several large coffee thermoses and pastries in the morning, and Preacher, Mike, Jack and a couple of friends set up barbecues in the yard and sold hot dogs, hamburgers and drinks in the afternoon. One of the Anderson sons, a family of local sheep ranchers, brought a couple of ponies for rides and Paul Haggerty had rented a little merry-go-round from an amusement company that leased equipment for parties.

Lawn chairs were pulled out of the backs of trucks, coolers full of soda, water and beer were added to the refreshments Jack and Preacher provided, baseballs and gloves appeared, a football was tossed around, a soccer ball was kicked between a couple of young boys.