She makes a noise of agreement and leans back, looking out over the acres of woods in front of us. “It is, isn’t it? The house-flipping market isn’t great up here, but I would love to settle down in the U.P. one day. It’s so peaceful.”

“The market isn’t good, but they still host this giant flea market?”

Shelby nods and swallows a bite. “That’s part of what makes the market so great. It’s an untapped resource. When I first moved back and started working for my dad, I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to focus on, and all the thrift stores and antique hot spots downstate are pretty touristy. They’re super picked-through and cater to the trends … lots of shiplap and farmhouse sinks and that kind of thing. Those have merit for sure, but it was being done already, you know? I needed to find my own niche.”

“You realize if this show takes off, your niche will become the next trend, right?”

Shelby makes a face, brushing her fingers off on her pants. “I’ve thought about that. It’s part of the reason I didn’t want the cameras around this weekend. The last thing I want is everyone making this a tourist destination next spring. I have to keep some of my secrets.”

“It’s that great, huh?”

“Better, Cam. This is like Disneyland for thrifters.”

I laugh at her enthusiasm and finish my coffee. “I’m going to refill. You ready to go?”

She stands up. “I’ll top off my cup.”

We spend the morning weaving in and out of tents stuffed with musty-smelling bookshelves, dinged-up rolltop desks, and all sorts of knickknacks ranging from unusual to absurd. Apparently, flea markets are one part farmers’ market, one part As-Seen-on-TV infomercial products, two parts beeswax-hemp candles, and infinity parts Christmas crafts. But if you know where to look, which Shelby obviously does, you are sure to find at least a pickup truck’s worth of early twentieth-century furniture worth rehabbing.

And two more items besides to be shipped.

“I knew I should have driven separately.” Shelby sighs after signing her address to the dotted line. “Four to six weeks. I miss her already.”

I bite back a laugh at the forlorn expression on her face. “I think it will take you that long just to make the room for a Hoosier cabinet this size. How will you fit it through the door of your shop, even?”

“Duh. I have a garage door off the side.”

“Of course you do.”

“I might keep this one, though. I don’t think I could sell her.”

“Do you also have a garage door off the side of your house that I don’t know about?”

“No. But I do have a sliding door in the back. I just need someone strapping to help me get it up the deck steps…” She taps her chin, smirking.