Kendall
Kendall did not feel like getting out of bed Wednesday morning. But then she’d never been much of a morning person—at least not since she was a kid. And mornings were even less welcome now that she was knocked up. Okay, her housemates had told her numerous times to quit referring to her pregnancy in such negative terms. Just last night Lelani had given Kendall the spiel that she was carrying a miracle inside of her body. Maybe it was something she’d learned in med school. But this little “miracle” had gotten Kendall up to hurl just a little past seven, and Anna had not appreciated it one bit when Kendall blasted past her to get to the toilet. However, Anna might’ve appreciated it even less if Kendall hadn’t made it in time.
“Eeuw,” Anna complained as she stepped back, holding her hair dryer as if it were a handgun. “Can’t you do that somewhere else?”
Kendall had glared at her. “Like where?”
At least Anna had the good sense to apologize and ask if Kendall was okay.
“Define okay,” Kendall had snapped back at her, snatching Anna’s still damp bath towel and using it to wipe her face.
Anna then had the good sense to keep her mouth shut.
Of course, Tinkerbell wanted to go out. Kendall had reluctantly trudged down the stairs to oblige the dog. At least that meant one less puppy pad to change. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like having to change baby diapers and, according to an ad she’d seen in some stupid baby magazine at the ob-gyn office yesterday, the average baby went through around five thousand diapers before it was potty trained. As she stood outside waiting for Tinker to do her business, she tried to remember what the ad had been trying to sell. Perhaps the idea that having a baby was ridiculous. In that case, she was buying.
Eventually, she fell back into bed again, and now she did not feel like getting up—ever. But someone kept knocking on the front door, incessantly ringing the doorbell, which had caused Tinkerbell to go into a barking frenzy that was not going to stop. And so Kendall dragged herself out of bed, pulled on her robe, which was looking ratty, shoved her feet into her pink bunny slippers, whose ears had been chewed to pieces by Tinkerbell, and once again she trudged down the stairs. Maybe she should consider forcing Lelani or Megan to switch rooms with her. How was it fair that a pregnant woman had to climb up and down all those stairs?
Kendall opened the door to see a middle-aged woman with an oversized bag smiling at her. Thinking she was selling something, Kendall prepared to tell her to take it someplace else, but then she realized it was Megan’s mom.
“Remember me?” she said pleasantly. “I’m Linda Abernathy, Megan’s mom.”
Kendall nodded dumbly.
“And we were going to—”
“Oh, yeah.” Kendall nodded. “I totally forgot. Uh, I wasn’t feeling too good this morning and I—”
“Are you sick?” asked Linda as she pushed her way into the house. This woman actually reminded Kendall of Megan, the pushiness anyway.
“Not exactly sick, but sort of …” Kendall frowned as she looked at the junk that was still cluttered about the living room.
“Don’t you want help with this?”
“Yeah, I guess so. I mean I need help, don’t I?”
“It seems you do.” Linda smiled again. “Why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll start going through things.” She held up her bag. “I found some more books at the library that will help us to price some of the collectables.”
Kendall felt slightly encouraged. “Do you really think there might be something valuable here?”
“Well, based on what you told me, the age of the home, how long things have been in that attic, it seems likely.”
“Cool.” Kendall nodded. “I’ll go change.”
“And I’ll get to work,” chirped Linda. “This is going to be fun.”
Kendall wasn’t so sure about fun, but if it was a way to make some money, Kendall was in. Her last viable credit card had been rejected at the gas station yesterday, and she’d been forced to spend her last bit of cash on a few gallons of gas. She really was desperate. As she pulled on the same sweats she’d worn yesterday—for the past week for that matter—she considered once again asking someone in her family for help. But she knew that would mean revealing to them her delicate (rather, indelicate) condition. And that would give them just one more thing to throw in her face. Plus, she still wasn’t convinced that she’d continue her pregnancy.
If only Matthew would step up and be the man she had thought he was. If only he’d come to his senses and realize that Kendall, not Heidi Hardwick, was the woman he should be spending the rest of his life with. But the last time she’d tried to contact him, just days ago, he’d politely threatened to get a restraining order on her if she continued to pester him. Then she’d just as politely threatened to go public with her pregnancy if he pulled a stunt like that. Now it seemed they were in a standoff. The only way to prove it was his baby would be to give birth and have a DNA test to determine paternity. Then she could either sue him for child support or hope that he’d figure things out and leave Heidi to marry Kendall.
Still, the more she thought about the possibility of Matthew giving up his high-profile Hollywood marriage, the less likely it seemed. Although she had tried, she had not forgotten her therapist’s suggestion that Kendall, besides being narcissistic, might sometimes suffer delusions of grandeur. Well, who didn’t sometimes? And what was wrong with believing that you were someone special? Wasn’t that also called good self-esteem? Why did everyone have to make everything so complicated?
“Are you coming down, Kendall?” called Linda from the foot of the stairs.
“Oh, yeah.” Kendall shoved on a pair of flip-flops. “Coming!”
Linda had already begun sorting some things out. And now she was holding a small stack of old magazines and grinning like they’d just won the lottery. “Do you know what these are?”
Kendall peered at the musty looking pile of periodicals. “Trash?”
“No, they’re old hunting magazines.”
“And?”
“And they are very collectable. Not just for the contents, but some people like to frame them and use them for wall art.”
Kendall peered at the cover on top. A guy in a plaid shirt and Elmer Fudd hat was aiming a long gun at what appeared to be some kind of mountain lion that was about to leap down onto him. “Who in their right mind would put something like that on their wall?”
Linda just chuckled like she knew some big secret. “Oh, plenty of people. Especially here in the Northwest.”
“Oh.” Now Kendall was curious. “How much would one of these magazines go for? Like a hundred dollars?”
Linda laughed. “No, I don’t think so.”
Kendall frowned. “So how much then?”
“Well, depending on their condition and the demand, some could go for as much as thirty dollars. And they should all be worth a minimum of ten dollars each.”
Kendall eyed the stack. “It looks like there’s about twenty there. So would that be worth around two to three hundred dollars?”
“Quite possibly. But you wouldn’t get that much for them unless you sold them directly to a serious collector. And, although Megan said she used the word collectibles in the garage-sale ad, she couldn’t be specific about it. So the chances of getting the right person at your garage sale might be slim. Do you know anyone who knows how to sell things on eBay?”
Kendall thought for a moment. “Oh, yeah, I think Marcus knows how to do that.”
“Marcus?” Linda looked confused. “You mean Megan’s Marcus?”
Kendall smiled coyly. “Megan’s Marcus used to be my Marcus.”
“Really?” Linda looked skeptical but didn’t question this.
And, although Kendall knew that Marcus would give the story his own spin, acting like he’d never been that into Kendall, he had to admit that he never would’ve met Megan if not for Kendall. Really, Megan should be more grateful!
“Well, let’s continue sorting.”
And so they worked together. Actually, Linda directed and Kendall tried to do what she was told, but by noon she was tired, and it looked like they had made no progress. “This place is still a mess,” she pointed out.
“It’s an organized mess.” Linda pointed to a box of glassware. “If we hadn’t sorted through, you’d never know that some of those pieces are rather valuable.” She frowned. “By the way, Megan mentioned something about your grandmother, Kendall. Have you secured her permission to sell these things yet?”
Kendall looked down at the hardwood floor and shrugged.
“Kendall?”
“Well, she pretty much gave me the house. Why should she care about the junk in the attic?”
“Because some of these things might be mementos. It’s possible that the value to your family members might be more than just monetary.”
“Huh?”
“Does anyone in your family want to save any of these things?” Linda looked slightly irritated now. “You know, for sentimental reasons?”
Kendall waved her hand. “No one in my family is into old stuff.”
“Are you certain?”
She nodded.
“Well, just to make sure, I’d like you to phone your grandmother, while I’m here.” Linda sat down in one of the dining room chairs. “I refuse to help you anymore until you speak to your grandmother, Kendall.”
“Fine.” Kendall reached for the phone. “If that’ll make you happy.”
It took about six rings before her grandmother picked it up. “Hello?” Nana’s voice crackled, then she loudly cleared her throat. “Who is this anyway?”
“Hi, Nana. This is Kendall,” she said sweetly. “How are you doing today?”
“I’ve been better. What do you want, Kendall? If it’s money, you can forget it. Your mother told me clearly not to give you one red cent.”
Kendall controlled herself, forced a smile for Linda’s sake, then continued. “Oh, that’s not why I’m calling, Nana. I was just doing some spring cleaning, you know, and there was all this junk in the attic and I thought it might be a fire hazard—”
“A fire hazard?”
“Yes.”
“Did you call the fire department?”
“No, there’s not a fire now, Nana. But I wanted to clear things out—just to be safe. And then I thought I’d have a little garage sale and—”
“A garage sale?” The pitch in Nana’s voice rose with interest. “I used to love going to garage sales. Why, you can get all kinds of nice things at garage sales. One time I found a perfectly good brass spittoon for only fifty cents. Can you imagine? Solid brass for fifty cents. Oh, my.”
“So do you mind if I have a garage sale then?”
“And there was the time I found an old desk lamp just like the one my daddy used to have, back when I was a girl. Oh, it didn’t work, but it was a beauty alright.”
“Nana?”
“What is it?”
“Do you mind if I have a garage sale?”
“No. I like garage sales. I have an idea, Kendall. Why don’t you come get me today and we’ll go to some garage sales. Maybe I’ll find another spittoon.”
“I don’t think they have any garage sales in this part of the week,” Kendall told her.
“What day is it anyway?”
“It’s Wednesday, Nana.”
“Oh, phooey. I hate Wednesdays.”
“Why?”
“They always have meatloaf on Wednesdays and it tastes just like old sawdust soaked in watered-down ketchup.”
“Sawdust soaked in ketchup?”
“Yes. And the mashed potatoes are the nasty kind where you just add water and they taste like wallpaper paste. Why don’t people use real potatoes anymore?”
“I don’t know, Nana. Maybe I can take you out for a real dinner sometime.”
“Oh, yes,” she said eagerly. “We’ll have to do it on a Wednesday since they have pot roast on Thursday and it’s much better than meatloaf. And on Friday it’s fish. Sometimes it’s just those nasty little fish sticks that come frozen. But sometimes it’s halibut. My, how I like a good piece of halibut.”
So Kendall agreed to take Nana to dinner next Wednesday, although she knew Nana would probably forget about it as soon as they hung up. But Kendall told herself if she made enough money at the garage sale, she would go and take Nana out for dinner. Why not?
“So, she’s okay with this?” asked Linda.
“Yeah, she’s fine. She loves a good garage sale.” Kendall noticed what looked like a brass spittoon amid some other junk in a big cardboard box. “Hey, that must be the brass spittoon Nana was just talking about.”
“Did she want to save it?”
Kendall laughed. “No. She told me she got it for fifty cents at a garage sale.”
Linda picked it up and turned it over and sure enough, there was a bit of masking tape with fifty cents marked on it. Linda peeled off the tape and studied the bottom of the spittoon. “That stamp makes me think this is fairly old.”
“Do you think it’s worth a lot?” asked Kendall eagerly.
“Well, certainly more than fifty cents.” Linda frowned. “Let me do some checking on it.”
By the end of the day, Linda had managed to find a number of treasures that she felt would do well on eBay. And she also helped Kendall to put prices on some of the older, less valuable things. Kendall went around trying to tally up what they’d marked and suddenly realized that having a garage sale wasn’t such a bad idea after all. And then Megan came home.
“How’s it going?” she asked her mom.
“Pretty well.” Linda set aside a box of old kitchen things that they’d just finished pricing. “Although to get a good price, it would make more sense to sell some of these things on eBay. Kendall said Marcus knows how to do that, do you think he’d want to help?”
Megan shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I also told your mom that Marcus was my boyfriend first,” teased Kendall.
Megan rolled her eyes.
“You don’t seem to be very happy today,” Kendall pointed out. “Was your witchy boss in a mean mood?”
“Not much more than usual.”
“How about giving you the time off to go to Maui?” her mom now asked.
“Cynthia hasn’t returned my call.” Megan frowned. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Maybe I should go to Maui with Lelani,” suggested Kendall hopefully.
“You don’t have any money,” Megan reminded her.
“But I will.” Kendall grinned at Megan’s mother. “After we sell all this stuff. Did you know that some of those old magazines are really valuable?”
“I thought the Life magazines were only worth about five bucks apiece.”
So Kendall told her about the hunting ones. “And if you add that all up, including the Life magazines and everything else, it’s looking pretty good.”
“Even so,” said Megan firmly. “You cannot afford to go to Maui and pay off your credit card bills, Kendall. No way. No how. Not going to happen. Uh-uh.”
“You are such a buzz kill, Megan.”
Linda just laughed. “But she’s right, Kendall. You need to pay off your bills before you start planning trips to Maui.” She looked at her watch. “And I need to get going. I promised to meet my friend Karen for an early dinner tonight.” She smiled at Megan. “Would you like to join us, honey?”
Kendall would never admit it—to anyone—but she felt a stab of jealousy just then. After spending most of the day with Linda, she had nearly forgotten that she was actually Megan’s mom. Then suddenly Linda was inviting Megan to dinner but not Kendall, and it seemed all wrong.
“No, thanks, Mom. Marcus is coming to get me for a music thing at his church tonight.” Megan kissed her mom on the cheek as she went out.
Kendall sighed loudly. “Marcus Barrett and church … I can’t even wrap my head around it.”
“Maybe you should come with us,” offered Megan.
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“So you think you’re going to get rich off the garage sale?” asked Megan in what sounded like a skeptical tone.
“I think it’ll be worth the time.” Kendall held up the spittoon now. “Your mom said this could bring as much as twenty-five dollars.”
“Hmm.” Megan didn’t look convinced. “But I have an idea how you can make even more money, Kendall.”
“How?”
“Sell some of your clothes and shoes and bags. Designer labels should bring in some quick cash.”
“Sell my clothes?”
“You’re not wearing most of them anyway,” pointed out Megan. “And you won’t be wearing them anytime soon. In fact, they’ll probably be out of style by the time you can fit into them again. That is, if you can fit into them.”
Kendall just stared at her. “You are so mean!” she shouted. And then she tossed down the spittoon and ran upstairs with Tinkerbell trailing behind her, went into her room, slammed the door, tripped over a Prada boot, and tumbled into bed.
Really, Megan could be so heartless sometimes. How dare she say such things about Kendall’s beautiful designer clothes … not to mention Kendall’s ability—or inability—to fit into them? How cruel!