Mother called herself an antique dealer, but the way she hunted for rural estate sales, I think vulture was the more appropriate label. She’d look in the paper for obituaries and addresses. Driving around, looking for the signs. Loading up her minivan with rustic things that yuppies would find quaint to pile on their bookshelves or mantles. A few restaurant chains hired her to decorate their stores. When she died, dozens of her fellow vultures circled the house waiting for the estate sale. I just threw everything out in the yard with no prices to watch them fight each other.