That’s it? I thought. You can’t even buy a couch in some stores for that. This is brand-new designer furniture at prices that will be gone in three months. The pieces themselves will probably sell out. Yes, David is worried about money, but he’s always worried about money. That’s never going to change. Anyway, he’s probably securing the DentaFresh account right now. If I don’t buy this set I’ll be wasting money, throwing it down the drain.
Furniture is also a great investment. It’s so well-made it will last forever. The holidays are coming up. I’d love to host everyone and see the looks on their faces when they see such a chic collection in our home.
Fran?ois cleared his throat. “Would you like to call your husband?”
I exhaled sharply. A year ago I was managing million-dollar client accounts and now I’m some stay-at-home mom who has to call her husband before making a purchase? Absolutely not. I’m a modern woman. Just because I’m not making the money doesn’t mean it doesn’t belong to both of us. We’re both contributing. If I didn’t take care of Aubrey, he wouldn’t be able to work. I don’t need his permission to spend our money. I’ll just use the credit card he doesn’t know about.
“Is Visa okay?” I heard myself ask.
“Absolutely.”
Fran?ois copied my card information and promised to send me a receipt by email. The furniture is set to be delivered a week from tomorrow.
Before leaving he looked around again, perhaps expecting a busload of children to come running down the stairs. I really do need to pick up more. The new living room set is really going to inspire me.
11 P.M.
I just checked my email for the receipt from Fran?ois.
6-piece Verdanza Package: Emily Walker Home
Ashley Keller
Visa 4875-****-****-****
Total: $8,025
My entire body morphed into an ice cube. Eight thousand and twenty-five dollars. There had to be some mistake. This was someone else’s order. I scanned the itemized bill.
3-section couch: $2,500
Loveseat: $1,025
Recliner: $1,025
As I kept reading, no, no, no, no, echoed in my head. The price Fran?ois had shown me was for just one piece, not for the set. How could I have been so dense? I didn’t even know if I had that much credit available. I immediately hit Reply to tell Fran?ois to cancel the order, but something stopped me. If I did, Emily would find out, which would mean not only would I be humiliated in front of my idol, I’d lose any chance of winning the grand prize. I closed the email window.
What was I going to tell David?
Nothing. I was going to tell him absolutely nothing. He was already worried about money; this would send him over the edge and he’d demand everything go back immediately, which would make all the hard work I’d done in the Motherhood Better Bootcamp a complete waste.
I had to deal with this myself. Either I’d win the prize money or I’d pay it off without him knowing. All I needed was a little side money. How much was $8,025 anyway?
A lot. It was a lot.
Oh, crap.
Friday, March 1, 4:45 P.M.
I spent the entire day trying not to think about the fact that I spent almost $10,000 on furniture behind my husband’s back. That’s the price of a car. Not a brand-new car, but a good one. That money could have gone toward our mortgage. I remembered David’s reaction to the dress I bought for our date that never was and tried to picture his face if he found out about the furniture. He’d blow a fuse. What if he walked out of the house and just drove away? He’d never do that to us...to Aubrey. As I popped a frozen lasagna in the oven, I tried to snap myself out of the fear cycle. “It’s only money,” I said over and over.
“Ma-nee. Ma-nee,” Aubrey repeated from her high chair. She was starting to talk a lot more lately. Note to self: Be careful what I say around her.
I heard my phone vibrate against the countertop.
David. Going to be late. Also, I’m taking my car to the shop tomorrow. Transmission. Oil change. I’ll need yours for work.
Well thanks for the notice, I thought. Just because I’m a stay-at-home mom doesn’t mean I actually stay at home all day. Use of a vehicle would be nice. Also, Fran?ois and his team are coming over to give the house the grand makeover I can’t afford. I’d planned to be out all day. Without a car what was I supposed to do? Hang out in the backyard with Aubrey? Set up a tent at the mall?
I quickly fired off a text to David explaining my predicament (minus the furniture we couldn’t afford part).
He responded five minutes later with a simple, Problem solved! My mom will pick you up at 9 o’clock and take you to her house.
WHAT? Yes, she may have come through for me with dinner before, and I may have said a few times that I wanted to get to know Gloria better outside of the context where she tells me things like “Your house sure is full of stuff,” and “Any thought on when you’ll be getting the baby some proper shoes instead of those overpriced granny slippers?” But an entire day?
I was just about to call David when he texted he was going into the DentaFresh pitch. I wished him luck. Now wasn’t the time to stress him out. I slammed my phone down on the counter.
“Crap.” An entire day with Gloria.
“Cwap. Cwap. Cwap!” Aubrey yelled, hitting her high chair tray to punctuate each word.
I really needed to watch my language.
What was I going to do? There was only one thing I could do. Eat my feelings; tuck them safely into my stomach and thighs. I popped a corn chip into my mouth and washed it down with a generous splash of pinot noir out of a lidless sippy cup.
Aubrey giggled at me from her high chair.
“Tomorrow, we’re going to grandma’s house.” She clapped her hands gleefully.
Saturday, March 2, 8:30 A.M.
I’d spent the last three hours cleaning the house from top to bottom. No more French fries in the couch. I even cleaned out the high chair and discovered that Aubrey has never eaten anything, ever. She’s been tucking food away like a rodent under the plastic cushion of her chair. I swear I found enough food to feed a small nation for weeks. But that’s all gone now.
Joy called me while I was a tornado of all-purpose cleaner and rags.
“You actually cleaned?” she asked in an irritated tone. As I predicted, she was teeming with jealousy once she found out (via my dramatic Facebook post—the one I’d made before knowing what I’d actually spent) that I’d ordered the Emily Walker Home line and was getting my home redone. Since I’d been accepted into the Motherhood Better Bootcamp, Joy had been downplaying it as my “little support group.” It felt good to finally have something over her.
“Yes, I cleaned. I do it all the time,” I answered, out of breath from trying to remove a month’s worth of grime from inside the microwave.
“So, what time is Gloria picking you up?” Joy knew how to take the buzz out of any situation.
Gloria. I’d been trying not to think about the fact that I’d be spending the entire day with my mother-in-law.
“Hopefully never o’clock. Are you sure you can’t come get me?” I really must have been desperate if I was begging my sister to let me spend the day in her Stepford-land.