Free Antiques Flee Market by Barbara Allan Page A

wife’s shoulders and said, “Hiya, Brandy. What is it?”
    Tina, with a combination of puzzlement and concern asked, “What is it, honey?”
    “I just wanted to tell you guys,” I said, “that if you need a surrogate mom? I’d be glad to have your baby for you.”
    A Trash ‘n’ Treasures Tip
    A flea market is the easiest place to begin a collection because quantity is high and prices are low. In deciding what to collect, consider price range, difficulty in acquiring more pieces, and—most important of all—space constraints. Mother once started collecting old wringer washing machines until she ran out of room in a week.

Chapter Four
Search and Seizure
    A fter leaving a stunned Tina and Kevin standing in their foyer after my surprise offer, I returned home, where (in the privacy of my bedroom) I celled the one person in the world whose permission I wanted before proceeding any further.
    My ex-husband, Roger, answered.
    “Brandy…anything wrong?”
    “Does there have to be something wrong for me to call?”
    “Of course not….”
    “Good. ’Cause I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Is Jake around?”
    “He’s in his room on his PS-3.”
    “Early Christmas present?” I asked. During Jake’s stay with me in October, the upcoming release of the expensive video game system was all the boy could talk about.
    “Yeah, afraid I couldn’t wait.”
    “You mean Jake couldn’t wait, and was making your life miserable.”
    He chuckled softly. “You got that right.”
    “How long did you have to stand in line?”
    Roger sighed. “Don’t even go there…. Let’s just say midnight at a Wal-Mart is proof of life after death, because there must be a heaven since for sure hell exists.”
    I laughed, then said, “I know Jake hates being interrupted in the middle of a game, but would you get him, please? Kind of important.”
    “Sure,” he said. “Expect to wait a while, though….”
    I knew Roger was right, and had come prepared; I used the time to untangle a bunch of chain necklaces from my jewelry box.
    Then my son’s voice was in my ear. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”
    “Sorry to bother, honey, but I have something to ask you that I just didn’t think was right for an e-mail.”
    “Oh-kay….”
    “You know my best friend Tina?”
    “Ah-huh.”
    I explained, as best as I could, that because of her cancer, Tina and her husband wouldn’t be able to have children of their own.
    With all the compassion a kid his age could summon, which wasn’t very much, Jake said, “Gee, that’s too bad.” Then: “Is that all you wanted to tell me? You upset about that and, uh, need to talk or something?” He wanted to get back to his game.
    “No, there’s more…. They can have a baby with my help. But not if you don’t want me to.” I paused, then asked, “Do you know what a surrogate mother is?”
    “Hummm…” In my mind’s eye I could see Jake wrinkling his cute, freckled nose in thought. “I think so,” he said slowly. “Saw something on the Discovery Channel. Kinda like a lady bakes a cake in her oven from somebody else’s batter, right?”
    I laughed. “That’s pretty darn close. And I want to do that for them.”
    There was silence, then Jake asked, “Does this mean I’ll have a little brother or sister?”
    This was what I was afraid of. “No, even though I’m the mom, you won’t be related. After the baby’s born, it will belong to Tina and her husband.”
    “So I don’t have to share a room or, you know, my stuff or anything with this newbie?”
    “No.”
    “Good!”
    I had counted on Jake’s self-interest to win his approval. “Then you don’t have any objection?”
    “Naw. Sounds like a really nice thing for you to do…. Knock yourself out, Mom.”
    Downstairs, I found Mother seated at the dining room table, furiously making notes on a yellow legal pad.
    She looked up, her magnified eyes behind the glasses dancing a wild jig, her hair frozen in its own bizarre dance step. “I