Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)(59)

They moved toward the house.

A teenaged girl handed them a flyer. “Furniture in the house,” she said, pointing. “Smaller items in the two barns. Cash only. We’ll hold the furniture a week, if you need us to, but you have to pay a deposit.”

“Thanks.” Isabel took the flyer and turned away from the house.

“They’re organized,” Ford said. “I figured it would be like a garage sale, but they have way more stuff.”

“Most aren’t like this. At least, not the ones I go to. I guess they’ve been planning the sale for a while.”

They walked toward the first barn. A steady crowd flowed in and out. She saw that someone had set up an awning, and there were three cash registers on tables. Several teenaged boys helped carry purchases to vehicles.

“What are they going to do here?” he asked. “With the land?”

“I heard it was going to be a subdivision. Which makes me sad. A family owned this land for years.”

“For some people, this is progress.” He glanced at her. “You’re not going to say you want to buy it, are you?”

“No. I’m moving to New York. But still, that was a great house, back in the day. There were probably a lot of kids running around. You had that.”

“Yup. It was loud.”

She liked the feel of his hand in hers and the way he walked next to her. He was fun to be with, she thought. Conversation was easy.

“Want to talk about being at your mom’s the other night?”

She thought he might say no or pretend not to understand what she was asking. Instead he squeezed her hand and spoke.

“It’s family,” he said. “They make it easier and harder. I’m one of the lucky ones. I don’t have flashbacks. I don’t have nightmares. But every now and then, the social situations get to be too much.” He shifted in front of her so she had to come to a stop and look up at him. “You ran interference.”

She stared at the center of his chest and shrugged. “I tried to help.”

“You did. Thanks for that.”

She raised her chin and smiled. “And now I’m going to introduce you to the delights of an estate sale. Yet another reason you should treasure me.”

He groaned. “I’d nearly forgotten. All right. Let’s get this over with.”

They went into the first barn. Isabel liked how they’d set out everything by category and on large folding tables pushed together in long rows.

“We can ignore the clothes,” she said. “I’m not into vintage. Unless you want something circa 1950.”

“No, thanks. Hey, look. They have old records.”

“Do you have a record player?”

“No, but Gideon loves them. Let’s see what they have.”

They started sorting through LPs and 45s. There were a couple of old jazz records from the late 1940s, along with plenty of stuff from the ’50s.

She saw that he was going to look in earnest, so she wandered away to check out the stacks of books. She found several older children’s books she remembered from when she was a kid and thought Maeve might like them for her kids. In the kitchen section, she found a cute pitcher with a cracked handle. She carried it over to Ford.

“Could you fix this?” she asked.

He glanced at the pitcher. “No. I’m good in bed. Anything else, we’re going to have to hire out.”

A reasonable trade, she thought, then glanced at the stack of records he’d accumulated. “You’re buying all those?”

“Yup. They’re cheap enough. Gideon can give away the ones he doesn’t want or already has.”

They paid for the records and took them to the Jeep, then returned to the second barn. There Ford was excited to find a couple of tables overflowing with vintage Harley memorabilia.

“For Angel?” she guessed.

“Just a couple of things.” He tucked them into an empty box from the stack against the walls. “Let’s go look at toys. I’ve got nieces and nephews born what feels like every other month.”

By noon, they’d nearly filled the back of the Jeep. Isabel had fallen in love with an old handmade quilt. She’d also bought two antique wedding veils. She might not be into all things vintage, but some of her clients were.

They walked around the barn to an open, grassy area. There, tables and a grill were set up. Ford ordered two burgers while she grabbed canned soda and chips. When their food was ready, they sat at one of the picnic tables.

“Okay,” he said, smearing mustard on his burger. “You were right. This was better than I thought it would be.”

“They aren’t all like this,” she pointed out, “but I’m glad you had a good estate-sale experience.”

“You’re gloating,” he said with a grin. “Admit it.”

She laughed. “Okay, yes. I love to be right. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Not me. I’m a consensus builder.”

“Oh, sure. That’s why you’re always betting with Angel about races and workouts.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He took a bite of his burger and chewed. When he’d swallowed, he said, “He and I haven’t been doing that as much. I guess because I don’t live with him anymore.” His gaze settled on her face. “Not that I’m complaining about my living arrangements now.”