Chapter 16

Saturday morning dawned fresh and dazzling blue. Meredith awakened early, alert after a deep, dreamless sleep. She had not felt so good in days. On the other hand, she had not been without dreams for the preceding several nights. She did not know what had made last night different, but she was grateful. She hurried downstairs to fix an extra-large breakfast. Night seemed to have chased the storm from the sky, and with it, as impermanent as the weather, went yesterday’s cloud of fear. By the time Richard wandered into the kitchen, Meredith felt buoyant. Arthur Watson’s things would be sold today, and once the check went out in the mail, she would probably never think of him again. Nonetheless, Richard still seemed concerned about her, and about their talk of the night before.

“It’s a beautiful day,” she told him. “If there was a problem I think it’s gone.”

They lingered over breakfast, enjoying the luxury of time together, but at last they rose to the task of carrying cartons and card tables out to the yard. The grass was still spongy from last night’s storm, so they lined the front walk with tables and spread plastic tarps beneath the larger items on the lawn. By ten, everything was arranged, a colorful array of goods spread over tables and planks on sawhorses. They settled down to enjoy the remarkable morning and wait for customers.

Earlier, they had confessed to each other their worry that no one would come, but before long that fear turned out to be groundless. Elsa Johnson appeared first. Meredith watched Elsa’s blue colonial down the street. She was not surprised when, within a matter of minutes, a curtain in the side window moved and the door swung open. Elsa called to someone in the house, then slammed the door and hurried up the street.

“That man is so slow,” she said, reaching the central table. “I told him to be ready at ten, but he has to read every word of the paper.”

Meredith and Richard exchanged amused glances. They had agreed that Elsa would be first, and she would probably handle every item. A twenty-five-cent bet rode on what Mrs. Johnson would buy; Richard said one item, Meredith predicted no sale at all.

They had not figured on the questions Elsa would ask. As new customers began to appear, emerging from houses along the street or alighting from cars, Richard took responsibility for Elsa. He moved with her along the rows of tables and planks, explaining that the encyclopedia had been a graduation gift from his parents, that the quilt scraps were all there, pinned and matched, but needed to be sewn.

Meredith remained at the central table. She counted change and fielded questions and introductions. As she expected, the other neighbors knew one another and they greeted her warmly. The people across the street, whom she had glimpsed only briefly going to and from their cars, turned out to be Claire and Jonathan Miller. Both worked, and both were friendly. Meredith accepted an invitation to dinner for the following weekend.

From farther up the street came a quiet couple, the Cupplestones. Janet Cupplestone fell in love with an antique radio Richard had once bought but never had time to fix. She warmed to Meredith and, while Andy Cupplestone’s back was turned, asked to have the radio set aside. She would pick it up later and have it repaired for her husband’s Christmas gift.

“Can I get it Thursday? I’ve got the morning off.” Janet worked as a bookkeeper in downtown Mabton.

Meredith slid the purchase behind her chair. “I hope you’ll have time for coffee.”

Janet accepted and exchanged a conspiratorial wink with Meredith as her husband approached.

The sale was going well. The first rush of bargain hunters had combed through the boxes, stopped to visit at the sales table, and carried off treasures. Now the crowd began to thin, and Meredith leaned back, thankful for a moment to catch her breath. She watched Richard straighten items on the tables and fend off Elsa Johnson’s questions. So far, Meredith reflected, she was winning the bet.

Elsa had inspected over half the merchandise and bought nothing, insisting that her husband would be there soon with the money. At last the door of the blue colonial opened again, and Elsa’s hand lifted to cup her mouth for a loud, “Yoo-hoo, over here.” She returned to the task of sorting through old books and remarking on the Morgans’ taste in reading.

Mr. Johnson was solid looking. Meredith told herself that anyone married to Elsa had better be solid. He was large and muscular, but starting to go to fat like an aging football player. His shoulders were heavy, his face thick.

“Ed Johnson,” he said, extending his hand toward Meredith. His eyes left her face to travel quickly over her figure. He was mentally undressing her and was not even trying to hide the fact. For a moment his presence made even the beautiful morning turn ugly. He gave a low whistle of approval. “Hope my wife hasn’t bought out the store. I’m not in the market for anything except a few girlie magazines.”

Meredith smiled uncomfortably and eased her hand from his grip. It was not yet eleven o’clock on a Saturday morning, yet she could swear she smelled a faint odor of whiskey. She decided to put him down quick. “Girlie magazines are for teenagers,” she said. “There aren’t any teenagers in this house.”

“If you’re really holding a yard sale,” Ed Johnson persisted, “you need girlie magazines and a kissing booth. Like the old county fairs.”

He paused, as if checking to see how far he could go. Meredith did not respond.

“Don’t mind me,” he added without hurry. “The missus keeps me in check. Just trying to make friends with the neighbors.”

Meredith looked away at the sound of Richard’s voice. He and Elsa had progressed to the far end of the row and now he held up a brown skirt and a plaid hunting jacket. “Where did these come from?” Richard said. “They don’t have prices.”

Meredith glanced down at the carton. “Arthur . . .” she began, then stopped herself. “That man brought them. Remember he called? Take whatever they’re worth. He said it doesn’t matter.”

Meredith watched Elsa’s eyes widen in surprise. Elsa glanced from Meredith to Richard, and then toward Ed Johnson.

“Whatever they’re worth,” Elsa’s husband interrupted. “My wife will want them for ten cents.”

There goes the bet, Meredith thought. She excused herself and moved away to straighten a table, putting a wide berth between herself and Mr. Johnson. The older man began to browse through a box of paperbacks, and Meredith smiled to herself. He would be a long time searching for torrid titles in that box.

Toward the end of the table, Elsa seemed to have lost interest in the cartons Arthur Watson had brought. Her brow furrowed in concern. She leaned close to Richard, confiding something and nodding once or twice toward the house. Probably more gossip about the former owners, Meredith thought, and was relieved that today was Richard’s turn to get an earful.

Casually, so she would not be noticed, Meredith eased back toward the central table and sat down. A few new customers moved along the tables, but she felt most curious about Elsa’s husband. There was something familiar about the man. He was certainly unpleasant enough to make a strong first impression, but she couldn’t recall meeting him before. Perhaps she had seen him at a neighborhood store, or coming home from work. Up the street, the Johnsons’ lawn looked ragged, but perhaps she had seen him mowing it. Yet his raspy voice sounded familiar, too.

Her attention was drawn to the house across the street and a few doors down from the Johnsons’, as its front door opened and a tall woman emerged. Above a forest green kaftan, long red hair gleamed in the sunlight. When the woman turned to stride down the walk, Meredith was struck by her poise and self-confidence.

So this was the owner of the sports car that occasionally appeared in the driveway. Meredith had wondered who had enough style to favor such a car in this solidly middle-class neighborhood. She instantly liked the woman.

“Mind if I look around?” a cultured, bell-like voice called out as the woman came into the yard.

“By all means.” Meredith debated whether to go over and introduce herself. She glanced toward Richard but saw that he had suddenly turned away from Elsa. He passed rapidly between the rows of tables, his eyes dark and his movements abrupt. He stepped around Mr. Johnson and moved on without a word, kicking an empty carton sideways before dropping into the chair at Meredith’s side.

“What’s wrong?” she said in a low voice. “Too much of Elsa?”

“I don’t know how you put up with the old bat.”

His cheeks were pale with anger and his hands were clenched in fists at his sides. Richard shot a glance toward Mr. Johnson’s back as the older man moved up the aisle to join his wife. Meredith studied her husband. He seemed too upset for Elsa’s cat-and-mouse games.

“Did she get going on the people who used to live here? She pulls that on me. Ignore her, it makes her mad.”

“She spared me that. Let it go, okay? I’m about to throw her and her old man off the property. Great way to meet the neighbors.”

“She isn’t that bad.”

“Want to make another bet?” Richard was furious.

At the end of the row of tables, Elsa and Ed Johnson huddled over the box of clothes Arthur Watson had brought. Now that she no longer had Richard’s attention, Elsa pawed through the goods in earnest, lifting each item for her husband to see.

“Our nosy neighbor,” Richard went on, “must be leaving footprints in people’s flower beds.”

“What could be that bad?”

“Insulting you, for starters.” Richard had been pale with anger, but now color returned to his cheeks. “She insulted you and I resent it. I told her to peddle her trash somewhere else, once I got the point. First it was the little barbs, about you having visitors during the daytime, and didn’t she know who, too? She put it so innocently. I thought it was this yard sale buff, what’s his name? Watson. So I went for the bait. That’s when the lecture started, all about how untrustworthy husbands and wives could be, except her and Edward, of course. She suggested that you had enough affairs to occupy ten women. I told her to go push her shopping cart. Over a cliff.”

Meredith remembered Elsa’s suspicions of the other day. Before she could speak, Richard turned to her with a grim smile.

“You’ll probably get the lowdown on my sex life at work. She manipulated me into describing my secretary and half the file clerks. I only caught on to her when she asked if I found any of them attractive. Can you believe it?”

“I can and do,” Meredith said flatly. She nudged Richard to silence. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had joined forces at the end of the aisle and now, Mr. Johnson carrying the Scotch plaid cooler, they moved toward the central table.

“Looks like I lost the bet,” she whispered.

Richard hissed his reply. “Prices are going up.”

Ed Johnson hung back a few steps, studying Meredith while Elsa approached the table. “I cannot believe you are asking three-fifty for this cooler,” she began. “I’ll offer two, cash of course. It probably leaks.”

“Four-fifty.” Richard said firmly. “If you want the lid, too, it’s five.”

“Five!” Elsa tipped the metal bucket sideways to examine its bottom. Meredith felt embarrassed. The tall red-haired woman was approaching, carrying a handful of books and she had obviously heard every word.

“I can go to five-fifty, if you’re really interested,” Richard persisted. He was beginning to enjoy himself.

Elsa’s husband ignored the exchange. He had noticed the handsome woman’s approach, and now a wide grin broke over his features. He started to close an arm around her shoulders.

“Sally Fielding. Well, it’s been a dog’s age.”

“Keep your meat hooks where they belong,” the woman said. She moved deftly from beneath Ed Johnson’s arm and extended her hand to Meredith, but Meredith hardly heard her. She suddenly remembered where she had seen Ed Johnson before.

The likeness was unbelievable, yet too close to be wrong. This was the man who had greeted Arthur Watson in her dreams. They had all been together at the cocktail party, and Ed Johnson had insisted on telling a filthy joke. Meredith shuddered against the sense of dread momentarily surrounding her. Elsa’s husband was the last person she wanted to see in her dreams.

“All right, three-fifty,” Elsa’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “But I’ll throw in the quilt scraps to make up the difference. Call that fair.”

Richard opened his mouth to object, but Meredith nudged him beneath the table. Elsa had already turned to retrieve the box of fabric. More than anything, Meredith wanted them both to leave.

“Three-fifty?” Ed Johnson counted the exact change onto the table. He smiled and gave Meredith a wink. “Could have told you the wife would get her money’s worth. Married twenty-five years; twenty-four and a half of them because I couldn’t afford the alimony.”

He turned and followed his wife from the yard. Their two figures looked exactly matched, bumping along with the purchases.

Meredith felt caught between shock and fury. Surely she must have met Ed Johnson before, but why would he appear in the dream? The older man was repulsive, completely the opposite of the stranger, of Arthur. She tried to concentrate on the mystery, but felt Richard’s anger seething at her side.

“That was theft,” he said in a low voice. “The money makes no difference, but she just picked up something and walked.”

“Laugh it off and forget it,” Meredith told him.

Sally Fielding’s lilting voice broke the tension. “Gets to you, doesn’t she? She’s good at it.” Sally gave an elegant toss of her head toward the Johnsons’ house. “Don’t let her win, that’s the neighborhood motto. No marriage is safe if you let that bitch win anything. Nothing she’d like better than to see you two fight about those quilt pieces. Last time two neighborhood kids argued, she was out front selling tickets.”

Meredith smiled in spite of herself. She was relieved to hear Richard’s laugh as she extended her hand across the table. “Sorry you had to witness that. I’m Meredith Morgan, and this is my husband Richard.”

“Don’t apologize. Actually it’s good to see Elsa in top form, but watch out for Ed. He is no longer welcome anywhere in the neighborhood. I’m Sally Fielding, yellow house over there. Except I’m hardly around anymore. Kind of miss Elsa’s neighborly visits”—she made a wry face—”like a dog misses fleas.”

Meredith laughed and took the handful of books Sally had selected. She immediately liked this woman. Despite her grace and sophistication, Sally had a sense of humor that was refreshingly down to earth.

“The yard sale’s a success in spite of her,” Meredith said, handing back the books. “I was beginning to think Elsa was the only neighbor I’d meet.”

The other woman’s hazel eyes widened in mock horror. “Lordy, that’s right, you’ve been at her mercy. When you moved in I thought of stopping by with a few pointers, honest I did. But then it felt silly, and I got busy with the job. I do interior design. Our company’s freelance, but it keeps me jumping.” She paused and glanced toward the Morgans’ house. “Which reminds me. Elsa caught me the other day and went on and on about you redoing the house. Made like she had the inside track on everything down to the seam widths of the draperies. “

Richard laughed and cast a bemused glance toward the Johnsons. “I’ll bet she did.” He paused. “Sorry about the outburst. She got to me.”

“It may have been the first time,” Sally said, “but it won’t be the last. Elsa is a pain in the ass, but when Ed drinks enough he gets almost dangerous.”

“Richard had an overdose of Elsa this morning,” Meredith explained. She hesitated a moment, fearful that a professional might find her and Richard’s tastes too ordinary, but the temptation to get to know Sally was too great. “Why don’t you come in for coffee? Maybe you can give me a few tips.”

“Gladly, but I’ll bet it’s perfect.”

Richard agreed to watch the sale for a while. “But if the Johnsons come back,” he warned, “Elsa can sell tickets to the show. And she’s the star.”

Laughing, the two women walked toward the house.