The Liar

“I’m going to pour you a glass of wine,” Donna announced, and dug tissues from her pocket. “You sit. I saw a bottle in the fridge.”

“It’s kind of early.”

“Not today it isn’t. Now tell me,” she continued as she went to get a glass. “What else do you want to sell? The art?”

“Oh my God, yes.” Worn to the bone, she let Callie pat a tissue over her face. “It’s on my list to see about. I don’t understand paintings like all these.”

“Rugs? Lamps?”

“I’ve packed up everything I want out of here, except for Callie’s room and my clothes, and a few things I need to keep around while we’re living here. I don’t want any of it, Mrs.— Donna. Even the dishes aren’t mine.”

“There’s quite a wine collection downstairs.”

“I’ve put twenty-four bottles online, this site I found. People are already bidding. I’m going to put another dozen on tonight.”

Donna angled her head, gave Shelby what Shelby thought of as an appraisal. “Aren’t you clever?”

“If I was clever, I wouldn’t be in this fix. Thank you,” she added when Donna gave her the wine.

“I don’t think that’s true, but let’s start where we are. Can you give me the name of the company you have coming in about the furniture?”

“It’s Dolby and Sons, out of Philadelphia.”

“Good. That’s good, and exactly who I’d recommend.” Sipping wine, Donna made notes on her tablet, spoke briskly. “I’ll make a counteroffer, but this buyer is going to have to come up to reality if she’s serious about the master bedroom furniture. Otherwise, Chad Dolby—that’s the oldest son, and he’s probably the one who’ll come in to give you a price—will make a fair offer. I know someone who would give you another price on your dishes, glassware, barware. And there are two art dealers I’d recommend for purchasing your art.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“It’s my job,” Donna reminded her. “And it’s a pleasure. I have a daughter just a couple years younger than you. I’d hope someone would help her out if she ever found herself in . . . this kind of fix. I noticed you’d cleaned out your husband’s closet.”

“I did. Mama’s fine, baby.” She kissed Callie’s hair. “You go ahead and play now. I took most of it into Second Chances,” she told Donna when Callie slid off her lap.

“Perfect. Macey and Cheryl are very good at what they do, and their store gets a lot of traffic.”

“Do you know everyone?”

“That’s part of the job. How about the books?”

“I packed up my books, the ones I like. Richard bought the ones left in the library. He just bought them—what was it?—in a lot.”

“And we’ll sell them the same way.” Donna nodded, tapped on her tablet. “I’m going to add that to my notes. And if it’s what you want, I’m going to put some of the contacts I have in touch with you. You can set up appointments.”

“That would be wonderful. I would appreciate that so much. It feels like I’ve been stumbling around, trying to figure out what to do with what for so long now.”

“From what I’m seeing, you’ve figured it out very well.”

“Thank you, but it helps so much to have advice and direction. You’re so nice. I don’t know why you made me so nervous.”

Now Donna laughed. “I can have that effect. Should I give the contacts your cell number or the landline?”

“Maybe you could give them both. I try to keep my cell phone with me, in a pocket, but sometimes I forget.”

“Done. These are businesspeople, and they’re looking to make a profit. But they won’t lowball you. If you think of anything else, you just let me know.” She smiled. “I really do know everybody. And, Shelby, I’m going to get you an offer on this house, a good one. It’s a beautiful space in a prime location, and the right buyer’s out there. I’ll find the right buyer.”

“I believe you will.”

And because she did, Shelby slept better that night than she had in weeks.

•   •   •

THE ENTIRE NEXT WEEK her head never stopped spinning. She made the deal with Dolby and Sons, shipped off wine won through the online auction house, picked up a very nice check from the consignment shop for some of Richard’s clothes—and hauled in three garment bags from her own closet.

She accepted the offer for the dishes and glassware, packed it all up—and bought a set of four colorful plastic plates, bowls, cups.

They’d make do.

Though it might have been more sensible to eke out payments, she paid off one of the credit cards in full.

One down, she thought, eleven to go.

The art—not originals, as Richard had claimed—wasn’t worth as much as she’d hoped. But the quantity made up for some of that.

Every day she felt lighter. Even the storm that blew in fourteen inches of snow didn’t throw her off. She bundled Callie up like an Eskimo, and together they built their first snowman.

Nothing to write home about, she thought, but she did just that, snapping pictures with her phone to send back to Tennessee.

And the adventure wore her little girl out so Callie and Fifi were tucked in by seven. That gave Shelby a long, solid evening with her spreadsheet, her bills and her to-do list.