Mar/Apr 2007

She's Got It

Miss Rosalie has been offering customers at the House of Deals a little bit of everything for the past 23 years.

By Mary Burnham

Last summer, my husband and I bought a century-old house in the harbor town of Onancock on Virginia’s Eastern Shore.

Without a big box store for miles, we quickly learned where to shop first, whether for a single bolt or a lawn mower, local tomatoes or fresh fish, a bike or a—well, you get the picture. House of Deals on Market Street had the steamer clams we fed our first houseguests in July. It also supplied our door mat, used entertainment center, tomatoes and sweet corn.

Local watermen bring in clams, flounder, scallops and drum fish to the plentiful mom and pop shop. And depending on the season, farmers drop off strawberries, sweet corn, butter beans, pumpkins and Hayman potatoes, an Eastern Shore specialty.

It’s all on display outside the former furniture store—a rambling red brick building at 20 Market St.—along with beach cruiser bicycles, Radio Flyer wagons and a few rocking chairs.

On the day I shadow owner Rosalie Lewis, the sign out front proclaims that muskrat is in. Finally.

“Is that a joke?” a female customer asks.

“Noooo,” Miss Rosalie assures her. “It’s not my favorite thing, but I have a waiting list of folks who can’t wait to get it.” An elderly trapper brings them, she explains—skinned, cleaned and ready for stew. Tastes like venison, she adds.

Just inside the store is a cooler filled with clams, and next to it, a barrel of horehound candy. Bird feeders and cast iron skillets hang from hooks. Floor space is crowded with new and used furniture, a rack of Dickies work clothes and antique kitchen implements (not for sale). The checkout counter (cash or check only; no credit cards) is piled with jars of candy, model boats, bags of fresh chestnuts and a tray of brown eggs.

A wide door leads into the cavernous back room. And in the far back corner of that room, four men play a game of Crazy Eights, while four more look on and provide commentary. When he isn’t playing himself, Miss Rosalie’s husband, Bobby, shucks oysters. No one can remember how long the card players have been meeting here, but it’s been nearly every day since at least 1992.

For the rest of this story, see the March/April issue of Hampton Roads Magazine, currently available on newsstands.