Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
They snorted and laughed hard. A clearing of a throat had them turning around. They found the Crafty Cathys coming in, led by Hayden’s mother, Darcy. Laila went about greeting everyone and told them all to take a seat.
Darcy came over to Devy, followed by Beatrice Sherman. “How are things, dear?” Bea asked.
“I’m good,” she said. “I’m finding my footing.”
“Theo’s waiting for you to file those papers.”
Devy wanted to roll her eyes. Everyone knew everything in this damn town. “I know. Soon.”
“We’d love to have you and Maren over for dinner soon,” Darcy said when it was her turn.
“We’d like that,” Devorah said.
Up until this morning, when Hayden and Conor had surprised Devorah and Maren, Hayden hadn’t been around a ton, not since construction had started on his home. Part of Devy was relieved because her feelings for him confused her. She was already mixed up enough about life; adding the little butterflies she felt when Hayden was around only complicated her thoughts.
The rest of her missed his company. She enjoyed having him around, and the brief moments, like the coy hand-holding when walking the kids to school, left her longing for more. She could always put herself in his path a bit more, but she’d never been one to put herself out there. Maybe that needed to change.
A handful of locals came to the meeting. They talked about fundraising, volunteers, and how all float entries needed to be in by July 1, along with their entry fee.
“Also, the young women in our community need to submit their applications for the Pearl of the Ocean. Remember, it’s one girl from each grade. Ninth through twelfth.”
“I vote to have Devorah on the float this year.”
Devy looked up from her notes to the audience but didn’t see who’d spoken out, and the voice wasn’t from someone she recognized.
Laila looked at Dev, who shook her head and mouthed, “No.” She had zero desire to be on the float and much preferred being behind the scenes.
When the meeting adjourned, Dev gathered her things and was on the way out when Maureen Stark approached her. She was one of the Crafty Cathys, who, if Devorah remembered correctly, always had something wrong with her, and she always sent out a monthly newsletter recapping Oyster Bay business, her various ailments, and what Dr. McKenna was doing for her.
“Devorah,” Maureen said. “Am I to understand you organize yard sales?”
Devy blanched and masked her reaction. Her job had been more than organizing yard sales. “It was estate sales.”
“What’s the difference?” she asked in a made-up posh accent.
“Well, for one, usually the homeowner is dead,” Devy stated more for effect than anything.
“Oh well, I’m certainly not dead, and if I am”—she paused and looked around—“if this is what death looks like, I want a refund.”
Devorah said nothing.
“Anyway, when can you organize my yard sale? I have many valuable things that should fetch top dollar.”
Devy smiled kindly. She could tell her again about estate sales, but she feared her words would fall on ears unwilling to listen. “I’m sorry, Maureen. With the festival planning and my job, I don’t have the time right now.”
“Oh well . . . I.” Maureen wasn’t used to being told no, and honestly, it felt good for Dev to say it to her. “I suppose I can wait until August.”
“August?”
“When the festival is over.”
“Sure, we can revisit the topic then. Have a good night, Maureen.” Devorah left, needing to get the heck out of there before Tabitha, in her bright neon-pink spandex pants with matching fanny pack, or Anita the thrice-divorced town pauper, could come up to her. Over the last month, Devorah had learned it was Tabitha who’d kept resharing the videos Ester posted. All Dev wanted was for those videos to go away.
Devorah escaped before anyone else could come up to her. As soon as she stepped inside Crow’s house, she felt oddly at peace. It was warm and inviting, something it hadn’t been when she was a teen. Now there was laughter and dinner waiting for her in the oven.
She went into the living room, where her dad sat in his recliner watching the baseball game. “Who’s winning?” she asked, even though it didn’t matter to her, because it did to him.
“Sox by one.”
“Nerve racking.”
“We had pizza for dinner. Maren left it on the counter for you.”
“Thank you.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek without a second thought. She walked into the kitchen to grab a couple of slices of pizza. When she went to open the box, her hand froze. On it was an advertisement for a local church’s annual tag sale fundraiser. She remembered having to volunteer during her reign as Pearl of the Ocean. Devorah peeled the flyer from the box and studied it as Maureen’s request to organize her yard sale popped into her mind. Could she start her curating business in Oyster Bay? She loved planning. It was like second nature to her. So what if it was yard sales and not estates. She put the flyer on the table, to save for later, and then put a couple of slices onto a plate and went back into the living room. “Where’s Maren?”