After several moments of her marking plates and me pricing cups, she asked. “What have you been up to lately?”
A smile touched my lips. “Well, yesterday I went to my first creative writing class.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“You have no idea.” I sighed, thinking of Brandon.
Gloria laid down her black marker. “Okay, give girl.”
Give girl? What were we teenagers? I almost laughed out loud. Only the expression on her face screamed she was very serious. “There’s nothing to ‘give’ I just enjoyed the lesson. That’s all.”
“Uh, huh, maybe I’ll take up creative writing next week.” Gloria loaded the dishes back into a half full cardboard box.
The thought of telling her no entered my mind. Gloria is fifty-five years old and she still has the cutest figure. And her eyes and red hair catch more attention from men than sticky strips catch flies.
Maybe reverse psychology would work on her. “Great. It meets Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons at one. Oh, and you don’t get class credit for the class, but you can attend as long as you wear a visitors badge.” I added the cups to her box.
“If you don’t get credit, why are you taking the class?” Gloria handed me a box of magazines to price. “Put twenty five cents on all of these, please.”
Busted, I thought. She pulled a pile of books toward herself. As she started marking, I answered. “I’m looking for Mitzi’s murderer.”
The unladylike snort that exploded from her nose turned more than just my head. Gloria slapped a hand over her mouth. “You’re joking,” She announced once she’d settled down.
Mrs. Harvey stomped by, calling over her shoulder. “Do I have to separate you two?” She continued on her route not giving us time to answer.
“That woman needs a ...”
“Don’t forget we are at church.” Gloria interrupted giggling.
“Church or no church, she has no right to talk to us like that. We are full grown women.” I continued to stare at the retreating woman’s back.
Gloria took the magazines I’d marked and began replacing them in their box. “Maybe so, but she is still a school teacher.”
My gaze moved to the new pile of used merchandise Gloria had placed in front of me. “She’s retired, Gloria. And I’m not in school, and neither are you.” Sometimes Gloria just frustrated the dickens out of me with all her positive, see-people-in-the–best-light attitude.
Gloria was bent over a box, but I could still hear her muffled voice. “Yes you are.”
It took me a few moments to realize she was talking about the creative writing class. “That doesn’t count.”
Her head popped up. “How does taking that class have anything to do with Mitzi’s death?”
Olive eyes studied my face intently. For a brief moment, we shared the pain of a lost friend. I couldn’t contain the sorrow in my voice when I answered. “Honestly, I don’t know that it will but I have to see if I can find what the police can’t.”
Gloria stood slowly. “They are working to find her murderer. You know that, right?”
“Yes, but I also know that because my fingerprints are on the pan, I’m their number one suspect, and I didn’t do it. So, if I can help them solve this mystery, I will.” I wish I felt as confident as I hoped I sounded.
She nodded her understanding, and then we each picked a full box of yard sale goods and headed for the front. Just before stepping out onto the grassy lawn, Gloria stopped in front of me. “If I can help, you’ll let me know?”
“Oh course.” Somehow we managed to hug around our heavy loads before departing to work opposite sides of the sale.
After putting out the marked items, I squatted down beside a box full of stuffed toys. If I were lucky, I’d find something Sprocket might like to cuddle with this winter. A half hidden teddy bear caught my attention. His medium sized body was covered with other discarded childhood favorites. Just as I reached to unearth the stuffed animal, my knees creaked and begged to be released from the locked position I now seemed to be in.
“Can I help you up?”
A large tanned hand was extended down to me. I recognized that voice. Without looking up, I knew Brandon Harvest stood over me blocking the sun. What else could I do but paste a smile on my face, look up and answer, “Yes, thank you.”
Heat enveloped my face as the joints in my legs popped and snapped. When I was standing securely, he released my hand and elbow. He seemed not to notice the sounds or the redness I am sure lit up my face like a fiery furnace.
“Is this the one you were after?” He pulled the teddy from the pile and held it up for my inspection.
“Yes, he is.” I busied myself inspecting the toy. What was he doing here? Had he come to the yard sale? Or was he stalking me? The thought of him being there to see me set the pulse in my neck to throbbing. Satisfied the stuffed animal didn’t have any weird eyes or noses that would choke Sprocket, I deemed him a worthy new play thing for my old dog. I hugged it close and looked to the handsome man beside me.
He was looking around at the people and the many tables, furniture, piles of clothes, and all the other items that littered the church lawn. “I’m a sucker for garage sales.”
So much for thinking he was there because of me.
“Not me.” The words were out of my mouth and there was no turning back.
He grinned and looked pointedly at the teddy bear in my arms. “Really? So what brings you here?”
“I’m working this sale. I go to church here and was drafted into it a couple of months ago.” Fresh heat filled my face, and the pulse beat harder in my neck. Could he see that?
The confession turned his grin into a gentle laugh. “I see. I’ve been drafted into a few things myself lately.”
“Nothing too bad,” I fished.
He noticed a box of books and knelt down to look through them. “Not really ...”
It was obvious after several long seconds he wasn’t going to elaborate. “That’s good.” I said.
Mrs. Harvey approached. “Claire, Ramona has arrived to relieve you.”
Brandon stood with several books in his hands.
“Thank you.” I tried to read the titles, but he wasn’t holding them at the right angle.
The older woman looked Brandon over, nodded once, and then turned to leave.
“Does this mean you’re free this afternoon?” He asked. His eyes searched my face.
“I have to go home and give Sprocket his new toy and take him for a long walk. After that, I might be. Why?” Had I just squeaked like a water toy? What was it about this man that left me so breathless? Maybe I should find a vitamin that would cure breathlessness when a handsome man was in my vicinity.
“Let’s get out of here, and then I’ll tell you.” He made a point of looking in Mrs. Harvey’s direction. She watched us as a librarian listens for noise. If she were any more intense, I’d have to peel her eyes off us, literally. Well, maybe not literally, but it was obvious she would have liked nothing more than to hear our total conversation.
I began to walk to the checkout desk. It felt good to have the handsome professor following close behind me.
As I paid fifty cents for the stuffed bear, he paid for his books, and I saw the titles. Aw, they were on wood crafting and writing. We walked to our cars in comfortable silence. Okay, to the onlooker it might have seemed contented. At least I hoped I looked relaxed. Inside I was excited to hear what he had to say and why he’d asked about my afternoon.
We stopped at my car.
“Remember I told you I’d been talked into a few things?” How could I have forgotten? That had been less than ten minutes ago.
At my nod he continued. “Well, one of those things takes place this afternoon and I was wondering if you’d mind coming with me?” Brandon studied the tip of his shoes, reminding me of an embarrassed schoolboy. Even that was attractive. I had to get a grip!
“Coming with you where?” My heart p
ounded in my chest. I attempted to open the car door and wished like the dickens I had one of those remote door keys. The way my hands were shaking I’d have all the paint scratched off around the keyhole before I ever got it inserted and unlocked.
“Promise not to laugh?”
Finally the key went into the door. With one little twist I was able to deposit my bear onto the front seat. Feeling mischievous I answered. “Nope.”
A twinkle entered his eyes. “Ok. I’ll just ask. Claire, would you go with me to the high school where my granddaughter is auctioning me off to the highest bidder for a date complete with a steak dinner?”
I couldn’t contain the laughter that spewed from my lips. He had to be kidding. “Brandon, you aren’t supposed to bring a date to these functions. You are the date!”
“Well, I have that part planned out, too.”
He grinned in such a way I’m sure my heart melted and pooled at his feet but I refused to look down. To do so would be to break eye contact, and the good Lord knows I couldn’t pull my gaze away from his if my life depended on it. “Do tell.” I prayed my voice didn’t sound as shaky to him as it did to me.
He leaned close to me. I could smell peppermint on his breath as he whispered. “Well, if you buy me, I won’t have to go out with some strange woman.”
“Who says I’m not strange? You barely know me and besides, do I look like I’m in the market for a man?” I’m not sure why I was fighting this idea. Maybe it was the confident way he acted as if I’d jump at a chance to go out with him.
I slipped inside my car and left him leaning forward. The desire to laugh hit me again. Brandon Harvest looked as if he’d never dreamed I’d refuse his offer to pay good money for him.
****
What was I doing?
With my car parked in front of the high school, I asked again, “Girl, what are you doing?” Saying the words out loud didn’t bring any answers.
I shouldn’t be here.
Yet, I was.
If the number of automobiles in the parking lot was any indication, this auction would be bringing in lots of money. I wondered what the funds would go toward. A young man held the door open for me as I entered the building.
High Schools have a smell about them that only mothers and gym teachers can appreciate. I followed the signs that read “auction this way,” until I came to a large room filled with all sorts of people but no chairs. A crude platform stood at the front of the room with a microphone stand.
“Hi, Mrs. Parker. Are you here for the auction?” A young voice promptly asked after I found a spot against the back wall.
I looked up at the teenager. What did she think I was here for? She stood several inches taller than me, her blonde hair had been confined into a ponytail, and she wore a blue and gold colored cheerleading outfit. A smile touched my lips as I recognized her as one of the teens from my church.
It ’ s amazing how quickly you forgave her silly question of earlier. I ignored that still small voice and answered the grinning cheerleader. “Yes. I thought I’d check it out.”
“Then you are going to need these.” She handed me a half sheet of paper and a ping-pong paddle with the number seventy-two on it.
“Thanks.” My eyes scanned the paper.
“You’re welcome. Would you mind filling out this so we’ll know who you are when you pick up your items?” She asked handing me another small slip of paper and a tiny pencil.
I stuffed the first piece of paper under my arm, used the paddle as a makeshift table, and quickly scribbled in my name and phone number. Then I returned the paper to her.
She studied it for a second, gave me a dazzling smile and announced. “Well, gotta run. I see more people coming in. Have fun and thanks for coming!” Then she was gone.
I pulled the paper from under my arm. “Annual Cheerleaders Auction” graced the top of the agenda in all caps and bold type. The list of items was long. Right in the center of all the household goods, gift certificates and other things were the words “win a date with your choice of Professor Brandon Harvest, Bank Manager Mark Ringer, and several others.” I guessed the “others” didn’t hold titles.
The room continued to fill. A moment of panic threatened to overwhelm me. If they allowed many more bodies in this space that was quickly becoming smaller, I’d have to leave.
I’m not afraid of small spaces, but I am worried about being crushed in a sea of people. What if the fire alarm goes off? These people could squeeze the life out of a delicate woman like me.
Thankfully, someone shut the door and a woman’s voice came through the microphone loud and clear. “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming. This year our girls have gone above and beyond my expectations in finding things for your bidding pleasure. Let me first tell you that all items are new and have never been used.”
“What about the Banker?” A voice called from the crowd.
Laughter erupted.
When the laughter turned to snickers, the cheerleading coach continued. “Well, let me rephrase that statement, all store bought items are new.” She cleared her throat and gave a group of teenage boys in the front row a stern glance.
I remembered being on the receiving end of those quick stares. This woman had ‘the look’ down pat and the kids quieted down.
“Second, I’d like to thank Mr. Miller for volunteering to be our auctioneer.”
The cheerleaders stood off to one side and began applauding. Noise filled the small room. The coach waited, gave the look, and then continued.
“Please remember, all sales are final, and you can pay for and pick up your items just outside this door.” She pointed to the back door and then motioned for a young man to come forward.
The action began. Soon I was in the spirit of bidding. In no time at all, I’d purchased a make-over from Salon and More, a new pair of beige winter gloves, and an antique chest that I thought Megan would enjoy. I should leave, I told myself. But, I wanted to see who would bid their way into a date with Brandon.
Telling myself I was being all kinds of silly, I stayed and watched as the good Banker was auctioned off. He exited the stage, pink faced but worth a hundred dollars.
“Our next gentleman up for grabs is Professor Brandon Harvest. He enjoys picnics, old movies, and jogging in the park. Let’s start the bid with twenty-five dollars.”
Paddles flew into the air.
I stood on my tiptoes to see the bidders. Several of his students filled the room, and numerous other ladies I’d never seen before continued to bid on the pleasure of his company.
“I have three hundred. Do I have three fifty?”
My stars!
I continued to stand on my tiptoes to get a better look at the nut that would pay that much for a man. My legs began to wobble. I used one hand to hold me up on the back wall as I gasped in amazement.
“Five hundred! Do I have five-fifty?”
A woman must be desperate to bid five hundred dollars on a man! The thought exploded in my brain as the auctioneer announced. “Five hundred dollars. Going once, going twice,” his voice rang out. “Sold to number seventy-two!! For five hundred dollars!”
What? Number seventy-two! That’s my number. My gaze moved to the paddle I had slapped up over my head against the wall. I groaned.
I’d just bought Brandon Harvest for five hundred dollars.
TITLE
Lethal Lasagna
Chapter 6
If I hurried, I might be able to get my stuff paid for and be out of here before anyone discovered I’d bought him. I pushed to get to the door. All the while, thinking, I bought a man. Me. I bought a man.
A long line trailed down the hallway in front of the desk. Just my luck. I guess I’m not the only one who wants to get the heck out of here.
“Hey, Claire.”
I turned to see Sara standing off to the side and smiling like the cat who ate the canary. She wore the same coveralls I’d seen her in yesterday, only today her shirt was florescent o
range. Maybe if I acted natural she wouldn’t ask about my purchases. “Hi Sara.”
She pushed away from the wall and moved to stand beside me. “How are you enjoying the auction? My mother loves these things.”
The desire to lie and say it was great fun tempted me, but knowing the Lord like I do, I knew He’d disapprove of the blatant fib. So I told the truth. “It’s a little more than I bargained for.”
A soft laugh issued from her lips. “I’ll say! I bet you had no idea Brandon Harvest was so expensive.”
I tried to imitate the coach’s hard stare. It didn’t work.
Lethal Lasagna Page 4
