It’s all about life, love, and learning to laugh in the twilight years.
“How dare you call my baby a thief.”
Angela hated confrontations of any kind. They made her feel lightheaded and all queasy inside. Twice in one day was too much. “I wasn’t calling her a thief, ma’am. All I was saying was that . . .”
The woman grabbed the child’s hand and stomped off before letting Angela finish.
When the last of her moving-sale shoppers was finally gone, Angela counted the money. She was amazed. All those nickels, dimes, and quarters added up to well over six hundred dollars. She couldn’t believe it. For a brief moment, the idea of running yard sales for a living crossed her mind. Then she decided that working in her brother’s pest-control business down in Florida would be much less stressful — for everyone.
Angela boxed up all the yard sale leftovers and carted them off to the Goodwill store. From here on in, she was going to simply her life. She didn’t need baggage of any kind weighing her down.
After retrieving Gizmo from the doggy day care center, she stopped off at the Colonel’s for a bucket of chicken and then headed back to the empty house. Early the next morning she loaded the dog into her jam-packed SUV, slammed the tailgate shut, walked around to the front, and got into the driver’s seat. Knowing there was no turning back, she took a deep breath, put the key into the ignition, and started the engine.
Then she laid her head on the steering wheel and cried.
Copyright 2008 Margaret Nava. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
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