I crept up the stairs and gently laid Aubrey down in her crib. She gave me two seconds before she stirred awake and began to cry softly. I picked her back up knowing that she’d be in a full-blown howl in minutes. The only thing left to do was to speed clean. With one hand, naturally.
With Aubrey in one arm and a garbage bag in the other, I began throwing things into the bag. It made no difference whether it was clothing, a paper plate, socks or a checkbook, it went in the bag. I could sort it out later. For now, I had to convince Fran?ois De La Rose that I was not the maternal version of Oscar the Grouch.
An hour and six bags hidden in my closet under a comforter later, the house looked deceivingly put together. Aubrey still lay comfortably in my arms, even though I’d had to switch her from side to side numerous times as my cut-off circulation turned all sensation in my arms to pins and needles. I rushed over to the sink. The dishes. The dishwasher was full so I rinsed the cups and plates before stacking them in the oven.
The house looked cleaner than it had in months and I still had a full hour to get dressed.
I was halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rang.
“Please be the mail, please be the mail,” I murmured to myself, running toward the door.
I swung it open and standing before me was not the mailman, unless the mailman was a four-foot-three, tanned and Botoxed Frenchman wearing an all-white satin suit and crimson crocodile shoes with a matching red bow tie, who traveled with a full camera crew.
“Allo, mama!” the man said, waving his hands with flourish. A camera flashed and the light blinded me and caused Aubrey to stir. “Je m’appelle Fran?ois De La Rose!” he said, entering the house while looking madly around.
The crew of three burly men dressed in black work pants and black short-sleeved shirts, and one mousy-looking intern in a wool skirt and collared T-shirt covered with a dark vest, followed.
I followed Fran?ois as he made his way into the living room. He looked around with a troubled expression on his face, as if the place were on fire or crawling with poisonous snakes.
He remembered I was there and turned to face me.
“Chérie. You must be Ashley,” he said sweetly before kissing me on either cheek. He inhaled sharply, “And this precious bébé, elle s’appelle comment?”
He gently tapped Aubrey, who was fully awake now and staring at the men with lights and cameras, on the head.
“She’s Aubrey. It is so nice to meet you! Thank you for coming! Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Wine? I would have had something prepared but...” I rambled on.
The camera crew stayed close, focusing the lights and microphones on us. Their lights felt like a laser beam. I had no idea this would be videotaped. Could I be any less prepared? I smoothed the front of my T-shirt and sucked in while trying to remember the last time I had washed my hair.
“I’m so sorry, I was just about to get in the shower—” I blubbered, wishing they would turn the damn cameras off for a minute.
Fran?ois held one hand up. “No, sorry. You are a busy mama of...” He looked around the room as if something was missing. “How many kids zoo you have?”
I felt my face get hot and coughed self-consciously into my hand. “Just the one. I have one child.”
Fran?ois’s eyes grew large and he laughed loudly. “One? Mais non, surely there are three or four children who live in zee home. Whose things are zese?” he asked, gesturing at the overflowing toy bin, walker, bouncy chair, exersaucer, sippy cups and piles of baby clothes. “Zoo you run a daycare?”
I shifted from foot to foot. “No daycare, just the one.”
Fran?ois gestured around the room, unable to comprehend what I was saying. “Mais surely, you are hiding some extra children somewhere?” He lifted a couch cushion, perhaps hoping to find triplet three-year-olds, but all he discovered were three stale French fries and a heavy dusting of crumbs.
He jumped as if the furniture food had startled him. “OH, MY!”
Forcing a smile, I lowered the couch cushion and gestured for him to sit directly on top of it.
Fran?ois sat next to me, shifting as if he could feel every hard morsel under the cushion a la Princess and the Pea, and took my hand, “I see now why you have joined zee challenge. But do not worry, chérie. Fran?ois is here to clean up your space.”
One hour and frantic half-French, half-English phone calls to an interior designer, professional organizer and commercial cleaner (Fran?ois thought a domestic cleaner might get overwhelmed by my home) later, everything was in motion for my home to go from raccoon Dumpster party to gorgeous family home. The cleaner was coming tomorrow morning, followed by the designer, then the organizer. They weren’t doing anything drastic, but “optimizing my space.”
I was overwhelmed with excitement.
“Thank you so much, Fran?ois,” I gushed.
Without answering he bent down and pulled a black binder out of his satchel. “Wait, mademoiselle, zere is more.” He smiled devilishly.
Tickets to Jamaica? Free babysitting for life? A sister wife?
He opened the binder. The first page was a glossy insert with Emily Walker Home printed in white calligraphy.
“Emily Walker has arranged for all of zee women to preview the Emily Walker Home line,” he said in a hushed tone as if the CIA were listening in.
My heart skipped a beat. I’d get to have the Emily Walker line before anyone else? Imagine the Facebook posts. Joy would perish from jealousy.
He handed me the binder and I began to flip through page after page of stunningly beautiful furniture.
Fran?ois leaned over and turned to a spread. “Allow me. Zis one would look beautiful in your family room.”
Before me was a beige leather couch, loveseat and recliner, a coffee table and an entertainment center with loads of hidden storage called the Verdanza Package. It was amazing. I felt tears spring into my eyes. So this is how celebrities feel.
“Yes. I love it. I’ll take it,” I whispered.
Fran?ois clapped his hands. “Perfect! How would you like to pay?”
I blinked. “Pay?”
“Ah, chérie, oui. Your designers and organizers, and a few pieces are free, but zee entire Emily Walker Home line is being offered to you before the general public at wholesale price because you are in zee...bootcamp.”
“Which pieces are free?”
Fran?ois flipped through the catalog and pointed to a set of three throw pillows. “Zere.”
I held my breath. There was no way, even at wholesale prices, I could afford a new living room set.
“How much is it?”
Fran?ois flipped to the next page.
Verdanza Package: $1,025