Moving On by Annette Bower Page B

another electrical upgrade for your modern equipment and Internet. You will need some insulation and new windows at least along the north wall. We can do that all from the inside and preserve the integrity of the outside skin. I’d say you have a pretty good deal here.”
    “And if I don’t do the windows and insulation?”
    “You can stay here from March to perhaps the end of October but then you would have to close her up and vacation somewhere warm. That’s what a lot of folks around here do.” He drained his cup and ate a cracker with cheese, then stood. “I have to get back to the store. When you’ve made your decision, drop by and I’ll do some real fine tuning.” He pocketed his calculator, pencil, and note pad.
    “Thank you for everything, George. Now I have some concrete information with which to make some decisions.” She closed the mesh door, then flung it open. “I didn’t pay you for the wood.”
    “I’ll set up an account for you at the store. Drop by next time you’re downtown and we’ll take your money,” he called as he navigated down the stone steps.
    No credit card numbers, just her word she’d pay. How much was that worth? She didn’t have to make the decision today or tomorrow. She had time to think about the type of renovation she’d like for her future. The realization was a comfort.
    Bright and early the next morning, Anna drove to the post office and copied down the list of sales. Her street map lay unfolded on the seat.
    At yard sales, she looked for pieces of cloth to turn into carpet, and bits of paper to decorate walls, her imagination open to any possibilities.
    Nick’s truck was parked on a street with a sign ‘advertising a sale’ taped to the tailgate. She parked and scanned the area for Molly. Neither man nor beast was visible. She found brass candlestick holders, and a small chandelier with glass prisms.
    “How much for these items, please?” she asked the man sitting beside a cash box.
    “Did you read the sign? It says I don’t dicker, so pay the price on the sticker, and it is yours.”
    “Oh, I don’t want to barter, I was wondering if this was the correct price. It seems very reasonable.” She brought out her change purse and counted out four dollars.
    “Are you saying they are worth more?” He picked up the money and sorted it into the appropriate slots.
    “They’re beautiful pieces. It must be hard to part with them.”
    “I have to clean out. I’m moving into the Wrinkle Ranch. All day I’ve been afraid of selling something and then later seeing it on the Antiques Road Show for thousands of dollars.” His eyes squinted and his jaw worked back and forth. “You’re not one of those antique pickers, are you? I haven’t seen you around before.”
    “No, I’m not a picker. I moved onto Green Avenue.” She wrapped the candlesticks in some tissue stacked on the table.
    “Oh, John Good’s house. So are you going to put in the new windows and stay awhile?” He handed her a brown shopping bag for the chandelier.
    “I haven’t decided.” She clung to the handles of the bag.
    He tore newspaper pages in half and folded them. “Just wondering. John had planned on changing those windows this year so he could stay at least until Christmas and then go south.”
    Anna looked around. She was alone at the sale. “Were you friends with John?”
    “No. We just played pool together at the Senior Center on Wednesdays.”
    “Who won?”
    “One week I did and the next he did. We sort of worked it out that way.”
    “Sounds fair.”
    “When you have five bucks riding on the game it has to be fair.” He smiled.
    A car with four women pulled up. The doors flew open. The women shot out and ran to the tables. “I’ve been waiting for that group to come. You’re lucky you were here first, they can clean a table in minutes, if you have what they want.” He stood and rubbed his hands together.
    “Thank you for these treasures. If I ever end up on the