The front door closes with a soft click, and I brace myself.

This hasn’t been anything like what I was picturing. I’d imagined myself standing downstairs in the foyer, greeting people and even directing them toward items they might be interested in—even though that’s hardly my job. I’d imagined standing guard over my family’s precious items until just the right people came to claim each one. I imagined, probably foolishly, that I’d have some sort of influence over it all.

I imagined, at least, that I’d be able to face it.

The first two hours of the sale went on beneath me while I sat in the window seat of an upstairs bedroom that had been cleared just to give a person—namely me—a place to step away during the sale.

I sat there until I was so disgusted with myself that I leaped up and stormed back downstairs, calm only at the last step. What are you doing, Ruby? Sulking in a bedroom? No wonder the entire family’s being dragged down into this ridiculously horrible situation. You can’t even handle an estate sale.

I’d tried to make myself useful for the last three hours, but mainly ended up showing Edward’s staff to the bathrooms and wandering through the rooms.

Nobody needed my help.

Nobody needed much of our stuff, either.

By the time Edward closes the door, my heart is pounding furiously. Now, instead of being afraid to sell this mountain of antiques, I’m afraid that nobody’s bought anything—that I’ve ruined the entire enterprise for all of us with my stupid desire to keep it all with me. One of his staff, a tall man with a baby face and broad shoulders, steps up beside him, pressing a tablet into his hand and murmuring something into his ear.

This is the moment of truth.

Edward frowns, and my heart plummets into my toes. This is not good.

The staff members disappear, fading into different corners of the house, as Edward approaches me. I’m not going to cry about this. I’m not going to do a damn thing other than accept the results of the sale gracefully. We could always have another one, although I’m not sure anyone would be especially attracted to the leftovers.

Maybe I should have taken that deal from Levi Blake. 

No. I shouldn’t have accepted the deal out of hand. I should have gotten a damn grip and negotiated with him.

Stop. 

I command the circular arguments in my mind to cease until I hear from Edward.

“Ruby,” he says softly, “is there somewhere you’d like to sit to discuss this?”

My mouth goes dry. “The living room is fine.”

We cross the foyer and go into the formal living room at the front of the house, the furniture a mix of antique pieces and modern touches. All of it still has tags on it. I can’t locate anything missing from the room at all. My pulse thuds in my temples. Is it relief or panic?

We perch on a Victorian sofa—imposing, overstuffed, and wildly uncomfortable. Edward doesn’t show it in his face, but I can’t help shifting on the rock-hard cushions. No wonder we never spent any time in this room when I was growing up. In a way, though, I’m glad it’s still here. Nobody snatched it out from under me.

Edward considers the tablet in front of him, like he’s searching for the perfect frame to display the information in, but then he presses his lips together and hands it over.

I take it in my hands, forcing myself not to tremble. I am not going to lose it. I am not.

The instant the numbers register, they blur before my eyes, and before Edward can speak I’m blinking hard, swallowing down the painful ache that’s risen in my throat.

“This is a list of the inventory that we’ve sold today,” Edward says, drawing a graceful finger down the too-short list on the screen of the tablet. “And this is the total.”

The number at the bottom of the list is hardly enough to make a dent in my brother’s medical bills, much less find my parents a more permanent place to live. A sickening shame blooms in my chest. It’s not even as much as the number Levi Blake threw in my face this morning. It’s not that much by about half.

And it’s my fault.

Edward doesn’t say it out loud—he doesn’t have to. I can see from the columns next to the list—the tagged prices neatly in a row next to the sale prices—that he followed my instructions to the letter. They didn’t negotiate at all. That has to be why the list is so small—there’s plenty here that’s worth a fortune. If I walked through the house right now, I could pick out the more valuable ones. Those were the pieces my mother wouldn’t let us touch. I can hear her now, her voice gentle but firm as she pulled our hands away. Not this, Ruby. Not this.

“All right.” I look over the tablet one more time, but the letters run together. I don’t recognize any of the items by these descriptions, anyway—antique rug with rose and lily pattern means nothing. I would do better with something like rug Ruby spilled hot chocolate on during Christmas when she was nine and gave her mother seven heart attacks. “I’m assuming you’ll be sending a copy of this?”

“It’s in your inbox right now.”

“That’s great. That’s—that’s really great.” I force myself to meet Edward’s eyes, even if the pity there—more pronounced than before—turns my stomach. I stand up from the sofa.

Edward follows my lead. “About the tags…”

At first, I don’t know what he’s talking about, and then I catch a glimpse of one of the small blue tags, big enough to read but not so large that it ruins the look of any of the pieces. “What about them?”

“Did you want us to go through and remove them, or leave them in case of—”

“Leave them. Just leave them.” 

A desperate energy is thrumming in my veins. I have to get out of here, and I want Edward and the rest of his people out, too.

They’re gone in a matter of minutes, Edward promising to check back with me to see if I want to run a second sale, and I gather up my things. My purse. My keys. When I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, something shiny and black flutters to the floor.

Levi Blake’s card.

My mouth twists into a scowl. No. Not Levi Blake. No matter how desperate I get.

I toss his card into the nearest bin and head out into the evening, head held high.