Free Heat Wave by Nancy Thayer Page A

hands and call Margaret? I’ve made tacos.”
    “Oh, yum.” Cisco went out of the room, then turned back, as if she’d just remembered something. “Um, did Nana phone you?”
    “She did, yes. We discussed your smoking in the attic. She is much less inclined to discipline you than I am. On the other hand, she’s your grandmother and not responsible for your welfare and safety, not to mention morals. I thanked her for her advice but told her I’m not changing my mind.”
    “Mo-om!” Cisco’s face darkened. “You are such a
stick
!”
    “Probably,” Carley mildly replied. She set the bowl of chopped tomatoes and shredded cheese on the table. This was one meal Cisco found impossible to resist.
    Cisco’s jaw clenched with anger. “I can’t believe you don’t—
honor
—Nana!”
    “I do respect and esteem Annabel, of course,” Carley said. “But Cisco, you are
my
daughter.”
    Cisco stomped from the room, muttering. Carley was sure Cisco said
I wish I weren’t
.

10
    • • • • •
    V ery early on the morning of the tag sale, Carley woke, jumped out of bed, and pushed open the curtains to check the weather.
    The sun shone down on a bright, clear day. The Weather Channel had predicted temperatures in the forties today, and no precipitation.
    Murmuring prayers of gratitude, she hurriedly pulled on her clothes and rushed down to the kitchen. At seven-thirty, Maud and Vanessa and Toby would arrive to help set up the sale. Until then, Carley could bake one more batch of cookies.
    Cisco came thumping down the stairs, dressed in jeans and a red sweater. She headed robotically to the refrigerator, completely ignoring Carley’s presence, took out the orange juice, and poured herself a glass.
    “Sit down and have breakfast with me first, Cisco.” She was worried about how thin Cisco was, but not ready for a fight first thing in the morning.
    “I’m not hungry.”
    “We’re going to be busy today. It’s cold out. Our bodies need fuel and we won’t have time to eat. Just some cereal.”
    Cisco hesitated, then slumped into a chair.
    Carley put a bowl of granola and fruit in front of her daughter. She took a bowl for herself. “I’ve got the chart made out. I’m gladwe’re so organized. I hear people show up early for these sales, wanting to be the first to get to the good stuff.”
    Cisco couldn’t resist. She was excited about the tag sale. Her friends were coming; strangers were coming, it was going to be like a party. She gobbled her breakfast down, then pushed back her chair. “Shall I go tie the balloons to the mailbox, Mom?”
    As Carley and her friends were carrying out the tables and baby furniture and setting up, they heard the thud of car doors. Clusters of strangers bustled eagerly toward the yard. Toby, large and male and a figure of authority to those who knew him, took on the job of standing at the end of the driveway, warding people off. “Not open until eight o’clock, folks. Let them get set up.”
    For just a moment, before the sale began, Carley looked around the garage and the yard and was seized with a terrible panic. So many beloved or at least familiar objects, lying naked for strangers to touch and take. It was like having the inner life of their family revealed. It was like selling memories.
    Suddenly Maud was at her side, whispering in her ear. “They’re only
things
, Carley. Life is fluid. You have to let go and move on.”
    Carley threw Maud a grateful glance. “You’re right. Thanks, Maud.”
    Cisco and Margaret artistically arranged their table of old dolls, rejected books, outgrown tutus, ballet slippers, and used clothing. Vanessa took charge of the baby furniture, receiving blankets, stuffed animals, and baby clothing.
    Carley and Maud each took a table with the rest of the stuff: old clothing of Carley’s, candlesticks, bookends, placemat and napkin sets, all wedding gifts that had never been used; stools, chairs, picture frames, and three different waffle pans.