Page 74 of The Marriage Mistake

On Saturday, the three of us went to explore an estate sale at an old, sprawling colonial up the coast from where we lived. Darby had insisted on bringing her Polaroid camera, and she held it in her lap as we wound our way along the wooded, craggy coastline toward our destination.

I was giddy and light-headed, and I had been since Thursday night. Jack had come home at lunchtime yesterday and bent me over the kitchen table. Then, last night, we’d spent hours tangled in each other. Kissing, laughing, talking, screwing, sleeping. It was like a dream. I couldn’t stop smiling.

“What are you looking for?” I asked Darby as we drove toward the estate sale.

“Just something interesting. This summer, Vikki found a lamp shaped like a giraffe. The shade is giraffe print. It’s so cool. She has it next to her bed.”

“That’s a good find,” I answered, nodding.

“I know. I’m so jealous.”

Jack glanced over at me from the driver’s seat, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He’d seemed more relaxed in the last few days, and the vain part of me thought it was because our relationship had shifted. We were more comfortable with each other. It was like he’d said: We fit.

We arrived at the home where the estate sale was held and parked on the street almost a full block away. It was early, but there were already lots of people heading toward the big, faded weatherboard house in search of hidden treasure.

We passed through the front door and entered a small foyer. To the left, a cozy living room held a few other treasure seekers inspecting the knickknacks on the mantel. One woman sat down on the rolled arm sofa and glanced at her husband, a question in her eyes. He took a seat next to her and nodded with one of those upside-down smiles that said, Not bad.

“Oh, look at that rug,” Darby said, glancing to the right. A sun-drenched library greeted us, complete with a cozy red rug, an ornate side table bearing a Tiffany lamp, and a carved wood chair with very worn upholstery. My heart squeezed. I wondered who had lived here, imagining them spending their evenings in that very chair. By the end of the weekend, the house would be emptied, and all those years of living here would be erased. I found it morbid and strange to be rifling through their stuff, but Darby didn’t seem to mind.

Jack’s shoulder brushed mine, and a moment later his fingers caught my hand. I glanced up to see a soft smile on his face. This time, I knew we weren’t holding hands for show. No one here knew us. We didn’t have to pretend. My heart grew, and I had to look away and focus on the wall of books to make sure I could hold myself together.

All these emotions were getting far too intense for my liking…but it wasn’t all bad. I squeezed Jack’s hand, and he squeezed back.

We followed Darby’s lead as she wound her way through the old home. She was drawn to oddities. Weird lamps, funky sculptures, books with odd titles, and vaguely creepy paintings. She was infinitely cooler than I’d been at thirteen. I’d been focused on keeping my head down, staying quiet, and getting straight A’s. That was the only way to make sure my dad paid as little attention to me as possible.

As I watched her squeal and giggle at the sight of an abstract painting of a purple pig, I wondered how I would’ve turned out if I’d had a dad as loving as Jack to guide me through my early years. If I’d had a mom to love and nurture me. If I’d had friends and a community.

“Well, one thing about your daughter, she’s definitely got a point of view,” I murmured as we watched Darby admire another creepy painting of an eye. I would never want that in my house, let alone my bedroom.

“She’s pretty special.” Jack glanced at me. “Thanks for coming with us.”

“Of course.” I smiled.

Darby moved on, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. We followed her up the creaking steps and started wandering through the bedrooms upstairs. Darby stopped in front of a wooden wardrobe, considering the garments inside. She looked at me. “You need a dress for the thing at that guy’s house next week.”

She was talking about Oren Blanchard’s party. And she was right, I needed a dress. “I do,” I conceded, “but I’m not sure about getting one of those.”

They were outdated, first of all. And they’d been worn by a woman who was now dead.

Darby was unbothered by both of those facts. She grabbed a blue sequined dress from the wardrobe and held the hanger up in front of me. Squinting, she shook her head. “No.”

I glanced at Jack, who was pinching his lips to stop from smiling.

Darby gasped and grabbed another hanger off the rack. “This says it’s Gucci,” she whispered, holding up the waterfall of embroidered red silk. Her eyes were wide. “You have to get it.”

I moved closer, touching the multitude of hand-embroidered flowers covering the bodice and skirt. “I probably can’t afford it,” I said, my voice tight.

“It’s an estate sale! It’ll be cheap.”

“I don’t even know if it’ll fit.”

“Let’s ask Sadie if she can help.” Darby threw the red fabric over her shoulder and swiped at her phone. Her fingers flew. “I started following her on social media. Hang on, she’s online. Here, hold the dress. I want to send her a picture.”

I held the dress. She took a picture. A second later, Darby’s phone started ringing. She swiped to answer and turned the screen so we could all see Sadie’s face. She was very beautiful, even lying on the couch holding her phone at a strange angle.

“Buy it,” Sadie commanded, sitting up with a smile. “Buy it now! And bring it to lunch tomorrow so we can talk about alterations.”

“Um,” I said, “are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother, I’m sure you’re busy. The event is next week, so there isn’t much time…”