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The drive from Bar Harbor, Maine, to the town of Lake George, New York, was slated to take approximately seven hours and thirty-two minutes. For this journey, Brittany and Valerie loaded up on both salty and sugary snacks, diet cokes, downloaded podcasts and albums, and plenty of gossip, which they’d saved for this special occasion. Although the mother-daughter duo had become thicker than thieves over the previous months since Conner’s departure, they’d promised to save special stories for this very trip to keep it interesting.
“It doesn’t matter when we break into the Cheez-Its, does it?” Valerie tugged open the plastic bag to dig into the salty, cheesy snack, which she crunched evenly, joy permeating her face.
“It’s nine a.m.!” Brittany cried.
“So what?” Valerie demanded.
“So... It’s Cheez-It-Time, is what,” Brittany quipped as she splayed out her palm. “Cheez-It me, please. And tell me more about this prom drama.”
Valerie puffed out her cheeks as she explained the overwhelming drama surrounding none other than Maddy Snow, Evan Snow’s youngest daughter, and her recent spontaneous and very public breakup. The boy she’d dumped had assisted her in stealing Luke’s sailboat the previous October, which, in Brittany’s mind, had labeled Maddy as “just another Snow.”
“She called him a cheating b-word,” Valerie explained. “But this other guy hovered in front of her, protecting her. I think the real story is that Maddy cheated on him and then invented a story that he cheated on her first.”
“That’s classic,” Brittany returned. “Blame the victim.”
“Yeah, well. It was a whole lot of drama before first period,” Valerie affirmed. “And Maddy stormed off school property after that. I guess the principal had to call Evan Snow in to talk about what had happened. I wonder if Nicole knows about it?”
“I’m not really sure what Nicole’s relationship with Evan Snow is, to be honest with you,” Brittany admitted, heaving a sigh. “You’re eighteen now. I would tell you if I knew more. All I know is she should really be careful. I don’t trust those Snow brothers.”
“Especially because they were friends with Dad, right?”
Brittany’s nostrils flared. It was a rare thing that she and Valerie brought up Conner. In fact, they basically pretended that he was non-existent, as though Valerie and Thomas had been the result of immaculate conception.
“I guess so,” Brittany replied somberly, rolling her shoulders back.
“We don’t have to talk about him,” Valerie added hurriedly.
“No. It’s probably better that we do. He’s not the Boogey Man. He’s just... a terribly lost soul,” Brittany tried. “And I hope he figures everything out. Wherever he is.”
Silence fell as Valerie reached forward to search around for a good radio station. She flickered around, finding mostly static until she landed on a song called “Easy on Me” by Adele. A thing Brittany adored about having a teenager, especially this deep into her forties, was that she felt constantly in tune with what was happening in the real world. If she’d been alone in the SUV, she might have played something from her teenage years, something she and Mary might have jammed out to on that drive to Boston, before everything changed.
“And what about you?” Brittany said after Adele’s soulful voice faded out.
“What about me?”
“What about your prom date?”
“I don’t have a prom date,” Valerie returned simply.
Brittany arched an eyebrow and shifted her face ever-so-slightly toward her daughter, maintaining one eye on the road. How could she tell her daughter how beautiful she was without sounding like beauty was the only thing that mattered? How could she tell her how worthy of romance and love she was without sounding silly?
“Do you have anyone you’d like to ask?” Brittany finally asked.
“Nope.” Valerie crossed her arms over her chest, an indication that the conversation was over.
Brittany dropped her teeth into her bottom lip as fear swelled in her stomach. Had her horrible relationship with Conner given Valerie some idea that love wasn’t worth it? Thomas had dated on and off, but boys were different. They didn’t always read into things the way girls did.
“I’d just like to go with my girlfriends,” Valerie told Brittany firmly, as though she could feel the thoughts swimming in Brittany’s head. “It’s more fun that way. Also, have you ever tried talking to a teenage boy? They don’t have many interesting things to say. And that’s putting it lightly.”
Brittany chose to laugh at her daughter’s joke rather than dispute it. She then pointed toward a package of chips located near Valerie’s feet and said, “Why don’t you crack those open? I want a Cheez-It, chip combo.”
“Wow. The ultimate experiment,” Valerie teased. “You’re brave.”
**
BRITTANY AND VALERIE arrived at the Lake George auctioneer warehouse at just past three-thirty in the afternoon. It was a gorgeous day, with a full arc of blue sky above, bustling tree limbs with the first shock of green buds, and cow farms in every direction, painting a beautiful portrait of old-world country life.
As Brittany entered the warehouse, they greeted everyone with warm smiles. Several of them whispered what seemed to be gossip into one another’s ears. Brittany liked to think they regretted that Brittany had made the drive over, as she had a killer sense of design and enough money to throw around these days to make everyone else nervous. This wasn’t a game to her, per se, but she liked to win. With Conner out of the picture, Brittany saw no reason why she couldn’t win as much as she pleased, as long as she set her sights on it.
Valerie and Brittany sat off to the left of the arranged seats and waited as the auctioneer assembled himself at the front of the warehouse. Two muscular men wheeled out the first item, an eighteenth-century wardrobe on which someone had painted a horrific picture of a rooster. Brittany almost laughed at the ridiculous nature of it. Who would actually buy that?
To her surprise, a number of people wanted it.
In fact, the bidding paraded all the way up to four thousand one hundred dollars. Brittany breathed into Valerie’s ear, saying, “Who would ever buy that?”
To this, Valerie answered, “You always said you didn’t care about what anyone wanted to buy in your store. You only cared what fit your aesthetic.”
“Yes, but... Who in their right mind has a rooster aesthetic?”
“Shhh,” someone shushed her from far off to the right as another antique piece was wheeled to the center and the bidding began once more.
Valerie nudged her mother playfully, wagging her eyebrows. Brittany’s heart lifted. She felt suddenly like a teenager in a high school class, goofing off. What fun to be forty-six yet feeling like the world was there, right at her fingertips.
Brittany had done her research and, true to her vision, bid to her heart’s content.
First, there was the Italian three-seat sofa, which had been designed in the style of Gio Ponti. It had been made in the year 1953 and ultimately sold to her for six-hundred and fifty dollars. As she’d expected to sell it for a little more than one thousand, she thought this was a fair price.
After that came a much heftier bid. There it was— a semi-circular corner sofa, velvet, colored a light salmon. Brittany shivered as she forced her baton up to bid on it. Very soon, she found herself in a heavy bidding war with a collector based in Vermont. Finally, she beat him out at two-thousand four-hundred dollars. As she expected to sell it for a little more than four-thousand, this was an excellent deal. She grabbed Valerie’s hand excitedly as her heart performed a tap-dance across her diaphragm.
She’d only just begun.
Later on, after she’d bid on the early nineteenth-century wardrobe, the Federico Munari Velvet Curved Sofa, the French nineteenth-century commode, the mid-century five-dresser drawer, and the French country-style chest, Brittany handed the baton to Valerie to let her bid on whatever she pleased.
Valerie’s eyes were alight with excitement when, three items later, an absolutely gorgeous mahogany Chinese Chippendale desk was wheeled out. She nudged her mother and whispered, “That’s the one.”
Brittany whispered, “Yes. It’ll fit the place perfectly. Go for it.”
Valerie operated like a well-oiled machine. She pushed her bids further, but never too far, and eventually out-bid an antique dealer from Manhattan. She got the piece for just a little over seven-hundred, which was a steal for such a thing.
At seven-thirty, the auction had an intermission for dinner and drinks. Brittany always loved this portion, gossiping with the other buyers and sellers, admitting defeat against the ones who’d nabbed the pieces you wanted, and talking about the state of the antique industry these days. Several people Brittany had known for years came up to them to congratulate Valerie on her tremendous work in the bidding war for the Chippendale, and, instead of blush, as Brittany might have at that age, Valerie simply thanked them and said she learned it all from the best.
“Your mother is the best,” one older gentleman named Chester affirmed. “She’s been beating me out of my top choices for years. She’s got a sharp eye for detail.” He then turned toward Brittany to add, “I heard through the grapevine that you planned to expand your collection. Not such a surprise to find you here at Lake George...”
“I used to share the space with a coffee shop,” Brittany affirmed. “But now, I’ve incorporated the coffee shop within the store and am trying to fill the space around it. It’s a difficult task, but I think the space is finally coming together. And you know me. There’s nothing I like more than buying these gorgeous pieces from the past.”
“It’s something we share, Mrs. Radley,” Chester affirmed.
“Just call me Brittany, Chester,” Brittany returned, smiling to let him know it wasn’t any trouble. “My husband has nothing at all to do with my business.”
“Very well then,” Chester said, dropping his hand down to shake both Brittany and Valerie’s hands. “I look forward to seeing you both around the circuit.”
The auction finally drew to a close around ten-fifteen that night. Brittany ensured her items were positioned in the corner of the warehouse, each labeled with her name and the name of the driver she’d hired to collect them. On top of one of the boxes, she left a large box of homemade brownies and a note of thanks. She’d already paid the driver one-half of the large amount it cost to get the items from Upstate New York back to Bar Harbor, but the extra brownie touch ensured they’d get there in a safe manner. At least, this is what she’d told herself when she’d slaved away, baking them two nights before their departure.
Back at the hotel, Brittany and Valerie changed into their pajamas and talked excitedly about the items they’d purchased at the auction, each of which seemed entirely unique, apt to bring in remarkable revenue. They also spoke poetically about how they could arrange the space with the new items, drawing visitors in off the streets with the daydreamy array of old-world items.
“And it’ll be tourist season before we know it,” Valerie affirmed. “I cannot wait to see how they react...”
“I guess that means I can count on you for another summer of work?” Brittany asked.
“Are you kidding? I’m involved, now, Mom,” Valerie affirmed.
It tugged on Brittany’s heartstrings, knowing that by August or September, Valerie would be off somewhere, attending college, meeting friends, finding herself. Perhaps she’d do that in Chicago or New York or Paris or Beijing. Regardless of where she chose, it would be miles away from Brittany and Bar Harbor Antiques.
It was important to treasure every moment before it drifted away.