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Meemaw's house wasn't exactly a mansion to begin with, and ever since Ella sent over that new furniture set, the place felt more crowded than ever.
So, she decided to take advantage of the weekend to clear out the clutter and sell the stuff she didn't need right in her front yard. It was a classic "two birds, one stone" situation: clear up some space and make a quick buck.
Mike was up bright and early. Before heading out to the science lecture, he helped haul the heavy, unwanted furniture out to the front door.
Naturally, Georgie and Missy—who had absolutely nothing to do on a Saturday—were roped in to help, too.
With the four of them working together, the front yard was quickly transformed into a makeshift flea market, piled high with old furniture and random knick-knacks.
"Here, take a break and have some juice," Meemaw said, handing out drinks once everything was set up.
---
"Alright, let's talk business," Meemaw said once they'd caught their breath. She gathered Georgie and Missy in front of her. "Mike is heading to a lecture soon. So, I need you two to stay here and man the fort..."
It wasn't a massive operation, but there were a lot of small items—golf clubs, old pipes, random souvenirs. It was too much for one person to handle alone. Clearly, Meemaw was drafting the twins as her temporary sales staff.
The kids didn't object, so she took their silence as a 'yes.' Meemaw asked, "Do you two know how to sell stuff? Do you know how to haggle?"
Missy and Georgie, having zero days of work experience between them, shook their heads in unison.
"Okay," Meemaw sighed. "Let me teach you the ropes..."
She started breaking down the art of the deal: "Let's say someone wants to buy something. You start by giving them a high price. They'll offer a lower price. Then, you go back and forth until you meet in the middle."
"That way," she finished, "you settle on a price that makes everyone happy. You got it?"
The twins looked blank. Clearly, their first day of on-the-job training wasn't clicking.
"Alright, never mind," Meemaw shook her head. "It doesn't matter if you don't get it yet. I'll be right here supervising when the customers show up. Go familiarize yourselves with the merchandise."
Just as the kids were about to start "working," Georgie paused. His hustler senses started tingling. "Hold on. You haven't said how much you're paying us."
Georgie might not be book-smart, but he wasn't clueless—he knew that work meant getting paid.
Missy caught on immediately. "We want five bucks," she said, looking cheeky.
"Yeah, five bucks each," Georgie backed her up.
"One dollar," Meemaw countered with a grin.
"That's way too low!" Georgie complained.
"See? That is the haggling I was telling you about," Meemaw said, looking pleased with herself.
A lightbulb went off in Georgie's head. He thought he figured out the game. "Four dollars."
"Two dollars. That's my final offer," Meemaw said, acting like she was being squeezed dry.
"How about three dollars? That's the middle price we can both accept," Georgie said, sounding like he'd just mastered high finance.
"Fine, you twisted my arm. Three dollars it is," Meemaw said, feigning heartbreak. Then, she pivoted. "So, are you two eating lunch here?"
"Duh," Georgie said. "I want a meat lovers pizza."
"Alright, let me run the numbers..." Meemaw grabbed a pen and paper. She scribbled for a moment before looking up. "A meat lovers pizza is ten bucks. After deducting your wages... congratulations, you each owe me two dollars."
Georgie and Missy, who weren't exactly math whizzes, froze.
"How is that even possible?" Georgie gasped.
"Math doesn't lie. Look for yourself," Meemaw said, handing him the paper. Then she twisted the knife. "And I didn't even charge you for that juice you just drank."
The two of them stared at the paper. According to Meemaw's calculations, they were indeed in the hole.
Seeing the expressions of existential dread on their faces, Meemaw hid a smirk and acted generous. "Tell you what. If you agree to help me for free, I won't make you pay me. How does that sound?"
"Take the deal!" Missy, who hated math, panic-nudged Georgie.
"Okay, we agree," Georgie said, completely outplayed.
In reality, he had been spun around so fast he didn't realize the absurdity of working a job only to owe the boss money.
Mike, who had been watching this entire train wreck from the sidelines, finally couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.
Meemaw's level of exploitation would bring a tear to a capitalist's eye. The worst part was, the victims looked like they thought they had just dodged a bullet. It was hard not to laugh.
But Mike's laugh triggered Georgie's radar. He realized something was fishy again.
Just as the twins were about to ask Mike—the actually smart one—for a second opinion, Meemaw cut them off. "This is our 'battlefield.' No outside consultants allowed."
Right on cue, George Sr. pulled up in the car with little Sheldon.
"Mike, we need to go," Sheldon yelled, rolling down the window.
You could tell Sheldon took this lecture seriously; he was dressed up and looking sharp.
"Yeah, Mike, hurry up. Don't want to be late for the lecture," Meemaw said, practically winking at him to get lost.
Mike didn't have the heart—or the interest—to ruin Meemaw's hustle. He suppressed a grin, glanced at the twins one last time, and hopped in the car.
Once he was gone, Meemaw turned back to the twins, putting her serious face back on. "So, either help me for free, or you each owe me two bucks. Make your choice."
Even though Mike's laugh had been a hint, Georgie and Missy couldn't figure out where the trap was.
They looked at each other, and Georgie made the call. "We choose to work for free."
"Excellent. Let's get moving," Meemaw clapped her hands.
By now, the sun was fully up, and people walking down the street were starting to drift toward Meemaw's yard sale.
---
Meanwhile, in the car heading to the Texas Museum of Natural Science, Sheldon handed Mike a thin magazine. "This is the brochure for the lecture. It has a lot of information on radiocarbon dating."
The lecture at the museum was focused on how carbon isotopes are used to determine the age of ancient artifacts.
Mike nodded, took the brochure, and started reading.
For a technical lecture like this, skimming the material beforehand was just basic manners—it showed respect for the speaker.