BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (88)
  1. Cover Page
  2. Front Flap
  3. Title Page
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. Dedication
  6. Contents
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. Back Flap
  88. Back Cover

“Sorry!” Dawn turned to Regan and Nora. “It’ll be just a few minutes,” she whispered.

“Do you work at many of these sales?” Regan whispered back.

“This is my first one. I’m really excited!”

“Your first?” Regan asked. “Is Jillian in charge here?”

“She and her partner, Jody. I think Jody’s out back. They run these sales all over New Jersey.”

“How great,” Regan said. “How did you get the job?”

“My friend Yvonne called me last night. She was sick and asked me to fill in for her.”

“I’m trying to convince one of my friends to get rid of stuff in her attic. Maybe I should talk to Jillian.”

“You’ll have to talk to Jody. Jillian just left.”

“She did?” Regan asked, turning around and glancing out the window. One of the younger girls was now handing out the tickets. There was no sign of Jillian. “That was fast. Is she coming back?”

“I don’t think so. They have another garage sale this afternoon. Mrs. Frawley called them at the last minute and really wanted to have her sale today. So Jody is running this sale,” Dawn said in a singsong voice, “and Jillian the other.”

I’ll have to say hello to Jody, Regan thought.

13

For more than twenty years, Frankie Frawley had loved his life at sea. Every night he got to play the piano and belt out a tune or two or three. Whatever songs were requested, Frankie sang. If he didn’t know the words, he improvised. The crowd loved the handsome, personable entertainer, stuffing his tip jar until it overflowed. After his set he schmoozed with the audience, going from table to table, then retreated to the crew bar for a couple of pops. Sure, he would have liked a career like Billy Joel’s, but no such luck. Frankie was paid to travel the world and sing, which wasn’t so bad.