Saturday morning arrived with the kind of sunshine that made people believe they had their lives together. The Bellamy sisters did not. At seven fifteen, Martie was already in the driveway.
At seven twenty, Vivian came outside wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, sunglasses, and a floral dress that had absolutely no business being worn before breakfast. At seven twenty-three, Lou appeared carrying a cardboard box labeled:
THINGS THAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE HAUNTED.
Martie stopped dead. "What is that?" Lou looked down. "My things."
"I can see that."
"I'm selling them."
Martie stared at the box. "Why would you sell something you think is haunted?"
Lou shrugged. "It might want a new home." Vivian walked past them carrying a tray of coffee. "I don't want to know."
That's what you said about the mannequin," Martie reminded her.
"The mannequin was none of my business."
"You bought it."
"I felt sorry for it."
"You bought a mannequin because you felt sorry for it."
Vivian looked offended. "She was standing in a dark warehouse with no clothes on." Lou nodded. "She looked lonely." Martie closed her eyes. "Dear Lord."
The yard sale had been Vivian's idea.
She had announced it over lunch the previous afternoon with the confidence of a woman presenting a military strategy. "We have too much stuff."
Martie had disagreed. "We have exactly the amount of stuff we need."
"You have three waffle irons."
"One is Belgian."
"You don't make Belgian waffles."
"I could."
"You've had it for fourteen years."
"I could start."
Lou had raised her hand. "Can I sell the birdcage?" Martie looked at her. "What birdcage?"
"The one in the attic."
"You don't have a bird."
"I know."
"Then why do you have a birdcage?"
Lou had shrugged. "Waiting."
"For what?"
"A bird."
That had been the moment Vivian decided a yard sale was necessary. But the real reason was sitting across the street. Arthur Caldwell.
Arthur had spent most of Friday afternoon trying to make his house feel less like a place where a man had merely dropped his suitcase and stopped. The problem was that he had very little furniture. A sofa. A recliner. A kitchen table. A bed. A television. Several shelves of books. And a fishing pole leaning in the corner. That was about it. The house looked like a temporary residence. Martie had noticed. Vivian had noticed. Lou had noticed.
And once the three Bellamy sisters noticed something, it was generally doomed. "We are not buying Art furniture," Martie had said the night before.
Nobody had answered. "Do you hear me?"
Still nothing.
"Vivi? Martie tried getting Vivian's attention. Vivian had suddenly become fascinated with her fingernails.
"Lou?" Lou had been staring at the ceiling. "Lou."
"I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"Whether a man needs decorative pillows."
"No."
"That's what I thought."
By eight o'clock, the Bellamy front yard looked like a department store that had been struck by a tornado. Tables covered the lawn. Boxes sat beneath the magnolia tree. Clothes hung from a makeshift rack. Kitchen appliances were lined up in military formation.
There were books. Pictures. Lamps. Vases. Christmas decorations.
A ceramic rooster. A lamp shaped like a pineapple. Three sets of drinking glasses. A waffle iron. A bread machine.
Two old radios. A typewriter. A collection of porcelain cats.
And, standing near the driveway, the mannequin. She was wearing a yellow sundress.
Arthur Caldwell came outside with Hank. He stopped. He stared. Hank stared. Arthur looked at the mannequin. Then at the yard. Then across the street. Then back at the mannequin. "What in the world... Hank barked. Arthur nodded. "Exactly."
By eight thirty, the neighborhood was awake. Cars began pulling over. Women wandered through the yard. Children dug through toy boxes. Men stood around pretending they weren't interested in anything while secretly examining tools.
Vivian sat in a lawn chair beneath the magnolia tree like she was running an auction house. "Three dollars."
A woman held up a lamp. "I'll give you two."
Vivian shook her head. "Two fifty."
"Two."
"Two fifty."
"Two."
Vivian smiled. "Sold."
Martie leaned over. "Why did you negotiate against yourself?" Vivian whispered, "Because I like the drama."
Lou was sitting behind a table of books. A little girl approached. "How much is this?" Lou looked at the book. "Twenty-five cents." The girl handed her a quarter. Lou took it, then leaned forward. "Don't read it after dark."
The little girl froze. "Why?" Lou smiled. "Because it's scarier that way."
Martie yelled from across the yard. "LOU!"
Lou called back. "What?"
"STOP SCARING THE CHILDREN."
"I'm encouraging literacy!"
Arthur watched from across the street. He had intended to spend the morning doing absolutely nothing. Instead, he had been standing on his porch for fifteen minutes watching the Bellamy sisters conduct what appeared to be a carnival.
Hank sat beside him. Arthur looked down. "You want to go over there?" Hank stood immediately. Arthur frowned. "I was joking." Hank started down the steps. "Traitor."
At nine o'clock, Vivian saw Arthur. She waved. "Arthur!" Arthur considered pretending he hadn't heard. Hank had other plans. The dog bounded across the street. Arthur sighed and followed. The sisters watched him approach.
Vivian smiled. "Good morning!"
"Morning."
"What brings you over?"
Arthur pointed at Hank. "He does." Hank immediately disappeared beneath a table. Arthur watched him.
Lou leaned toward Vivian. "He's learning."
"Learning what?"
"How to surrender."
Arthur called Hank and took him by the collar. "I need a favor."
Martie smiled. "Of course."
"Can you tell your dog that he's not allowed to shop?"
Lou corrected him. "He's not shopping."
Arthur looked at her. "Then why is he carrying a wooden spoon?"
Everyone looked. Hank had, indeed, somehow acquired a wooden spoon.
Lou shrugged. "Maybe he wants to cook."
Martie reached down and took it. "That's mine."
Hank looked disappointed. Arthur sighed. "Sorry."
Martie smiled. "It's all right." Then she looked at him. "You could use a few things for your kitchen."
Arthur immediately became suspicious. "I have a kitchen."
"I know."
"It has things in it."
"I know."
"I don't need anything."
Martie nodded. "Of course not."
Arthur relaxed.
Then Vivian appeared beside him holding a box. "How do you feel about blue?"
Arthur looked at the box. "What?"
"Blue."
"I don't have feelings about blue."
Vivian opened the box. Inside were four blue plates. "They'd look lovely in your kitchen."
"I have plates."
"How many?"
Arthur hesitated. "Four."
"These are four."
"I don't need eight."
"Now you'll have eight."
"Why would I need eight?"
"In case somebody comes over."
Arthur stared at her. "Who?" Vivian smiled. "People." Arthur looked toward Martie. "Are you hearing this?" Martie was suddenly very busy rearranging a stack of towels. Lou walked over. "Those are pretty."
"Thank you," Vivian said.
Arthur pointed. "I don't need them."
Lou nodded. "Then I'll take them."
Arthur looked relieved. "Good."
Lou took the box.
Then she turned toward Arthur. "For your house."
Arthur's face fell. "I thought you were taking them."
"I am."
"Where?"
"Your house."
Ten minutes later, Arthur owned: Four blue plates. Four matching bowls. A wooden salad bowl.
A coffee mug that said WORLD'S OKAYEST FISHERMAN.
Two hand towels. A small lamp. A framed print of a lake. And a decorative rooster.
Arthur stared at the rooster. "No."
Martie held it out. "It'll look good in the kitchen."
"No."
"It was mine."
"Then why are you selling it?"
"Because I have another one."
Arthur looked at Vivian. "How many roosters does she have?"
Vivian answered. "Don't ask questions you don't want answered."
Lou picked up the rooster. "His name is Gerald." Arthur closed his eyes. "Of course it is."
"He likes you."
"It's ceramic."
"He still has feelings."
Arthur looked at the rooster. Then at Lou. Then at Hank. "You know what?"
Lou smiled. "I'm taking Gerald."
Arthur opened his eyes. "Good."
"To your house."
Arthur pointed at the street. "No."
At ten thirty, Arthur was trapped. Not physically. Worse. Socially. Every time he tried to leave, someone handed him something.
"Take this."
"I don't need that."
"Everybody needs one."
"No, they don't."
"You're going to need it eventually."
"What is it?"
"A melon baller."
"I don't eat melons."
"You might."
"I won't."
"You don't know that."
He looked at Martie. "Why do you have a melon baller?"
"I like being prepared."
Arthur shook his head. "You people are exhausting."
"You keep saying that," Vivian smiled. "And yet you're still here."
Arthur looked around. He had no answer.
Then Lou appeared holding a box. "Arthur."
"No."
"You don't even know what it is."
"I know you."
Lou smiled. "That's fair."
She opened the box. Inside was an old fishing reel. Arthur's expression changed. He picked it up. "Where did you get this?"
"Attic."
He turned it over in his hands. "This is old."
"I know."
"Where'd it come from?"
Lou shrugged. "I think it belonged to Daddy." Martie looked over. "Your daddy never fished."
"He tried once."
"What happened?"
"He fell in."
Vivian laughed. "He hated water." Lou nodded. "Maybe this belonged to somebody else."
Arthur examined the reel. It was worn but well made. "You selling it?"
Lou shook her head. "No."
Arthur looked up. "Then why are you showing me?"
"Because I thought you'd like it."
He looked at her. There was no joke in her face. No mischief. She had simply thought of him.
Arthur swallowed. "Thank you."
Lou smiled. "You can have it."
"No."
"Why not?"
"It's yours."
"I don't need it."
"Neither do I."
Lou held it out again. "Then we'll both need it less if it's yours."
Arthur laughed softly. "That's not how things work."
"Maybe it should."
He looked at the reel again. Then took it. "Thank you."
Lou nodded. "You're welcome." She walked away. Arthur stood there holding the fishing reel.
For some reason, that small gift meant more than all the plates and towels and ridiculous decorations.
Because Lou hadn't tried to fix his house. She'd simply seen something he might like. And remembered him.
By noon, the yard sale was winding down. The sisters had made nearly two hundred dollars. Vivian had sold seventeen items she insisted she'd never miss. Martie had sold enough kitchenware to stock a restaurant. Lou had sold the haunted box. At least, she claimed she had.
Arthur stood in the middle of the yard holding a cardboard box.
Martie looked at him. "What's in that?"
"Apparently, my new kitchen."
Vivian smiled. "You bought some lovely things."
"I didn't buy them."
"You accepted them."
"That's worse."
Lou walked up. "Did you get Gerald?" Arthur looked at her. "The rooster?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not putting a ceramic rooster in my kitchen."
Lou looked disappointed. Arthur sighed. "Where is it?"
Lou's face brightened. "Right over there." She pointed. Gerald was sitting beneath the magnolia tree. Arthur walked over. Picked him up. Looked at him. Then carried him across the street. The sisters watched. Vivian whispered, "He's ours now." Martie smiled. "He was ours the minute he took the pie." Lou looked toward Arthur's house. "He's not ours."
The other two looked at her. Lou smiled. "He's family."
Nobody said anything.
Across the street, Arthur placed Gerald on the kitchen counter. He stepped back. The rooster looked ridiculous. Arthur stared at him. "You're staying." Then he laughed. A real laugh. The kind that reached all the way up to his eyes.
Across the street, three women saw it. Vivian put her hand over her heart. "Oh, honey." Martie smiled. Lou simply waved. Arthur saw her. He shook his head. Then he waved back.
That evening, the sisters sat on their porch eating leftover sandwiches. Across the street, Arthur was sitting outside with Hank. The new blue plates were stacked in his kitchen window. Gerald the rooster was visible on the counter. The lake picture was hanging crooked on the wall. Arthur had apparently already used the new coffee mug.
Lou watched him. "You know what?" Martie looked over. "What?"
"I think he's happy." Vivian smiled. "I think so too." Martie leaned back. "We may actually be doing this." Vivian looked pleased. "Operation Grumpy is working."
Lou shook her head. "No."
"What?"
Lou smiled. "I think Art is doing most of the work."
Across the street, Arthur raised his coffee mug. The three sisters raised theirs. Hank barked. Arthur called across the street. "Are you women planning something?"
All three froze. Vivian smiled. "Absolutely not!"
Arthur laughed. "That's what I was afraid of." He leaned back in his chair. And for the first time since moving into town, Arthur Caldwell realized he was looking forward to tomorrow. He didn't know what the Bellamy sisters would do. That was the problem. And somehow...that was also what made it wonderful.