12. Charlotte Joint Property
Charlotte Joint Property
“Wow,” I said as I buckled myself into Grace’s Mercedes. “This is something I never thought I’d be doing.”
“Getting a job?” Grace asked.
“Well, not exactly. I could always imagine myself going back to work. But I imagined if I did it would be all about companies wining and dining me, not me begging some small-town office to let me be its secretary.” I winced and looked over at her. “That makes me sound really awful, doesn’t it?”
Grace laughed. “Are you kidding me? Women never fight enough for what we deserve. We roll over and roll over until we lose our minds, at which point we get labeled crazy bitches.” She looked over at me. “So, no. It doesn’t make you sound awful. It makes you sound like a woman who knows she’s been shafted.”
I thought back to fourteen years ago, when Iris had just been born, when my six weeks of maternity leave—which, let’s face it, had been peppered with calls and questions from work—was coming to an end. I was crying over having to leave her, over the nanny being the one she would call “Mommy,” over how I could work sixty hours a week when I had a baby who needed me.
“So quit,” Bill had said.
I’d laughed, assumed he was kidding. Quit? I couldn’t quit. That was ridiculous.
“I mean it,” he said. “Quit your job, stay home for a little while. It’s not like everyone won’t be begging you to come back when you’re ready.”
It was such a kind gesture. My quitting my job would be harder on Bill. There was no doubt about that. But he was only worried about Iris and me.
“But I’ve worked so hard,” I said then. Even as I said it, I knew that, if he was serious, I wasn’t going back to that job. I loved it. I ate it, breathed it, slept it. I dreamed about clients and money and deals. But now I had Iris. And everything seemed different.
“I don’t know,” I said to Grace now. “I mean, I was upset about going back to work. Maybe I did the right thing.”
“Every woman in the world is upset about going back to work. But then they go. And they get used to it in, like, two weeks and sometimes it’s hard as hell, but they make it work.”
“Is that how it was for you?”
Grace laughed. “Oh, God no. I quit working the absolute day Troy and I got married. I hated working. It was the thing I did because I had to. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a little jealous of people like you who have a real passion for it.”
“But then you started Growing with Grace ?” I asked. I was a bit of a latecomer to the heavily trafficked site. I’d probably only followed Grace for a year or two, which was so dumb because Iris was mostly grown. But there was something about her Instagram page that was so soothing and lovely that I liked to watch it just for the pleasure of it.
“Yes,” she said. “When Merit was two.” She shook her head. “Wow, fourteen years ago. That’s hard to believe.”
I looked over at her contoured cheek and her shiny ponytail. She really was the image she was selling. Well… mostly. “Can I ask you something?”
She glanced at me. “You can ask anything you’d like. I probably won’t tell you the truth, but I’ll definitely answer.” She grinned.
“Why not let your readers in on your real life? They love you. They would be Team Grace and support you all the way through your divorce and everything. You don’t have to be so perfect all the time.”
Grace laughed as she turned at the stoplight. “Oh, Charlotte. That is so sweet and so na?ve.”
“Which part?”
“My darling, Grace from Growing with Grace isn’t a person. She is a product. A bright, shiny silver Bergdorf box with a signature purple bow. That Grace is a rerun of Gilmore Girls . She makes you feel good about your life. She makes you feel calm, like maybe you can pull the disaster that is your family together. Maybe it’s an illusion, but it’s an illusion that keeps you going. Do you know what I mean?”
I stared at her as she pulled up in front of Montoya you need to be with people. How about I make you a sales rep?”
I would be amazing at that. Overcoming objections was my jam. I wanted to ask him if this was a pity hire. But I couldn’t. Because, even if it was, I needed it. I had literally no pride left. “Here’s the problem: no one trusts me right now. How am I going to sell insurance to people who think I’m a thief? Or thief-adjacent, anyway.” I wanted to tell him that his lovely wife was keen on spreading that not-so-nice rumor. But obviously, Gabe didn’t believe I was involved. So that was something.
He leaned over the desk. “I bet you’ll figure it out.” He paused. “And, look, your base as a salesperson is the same as the salary for the customer service rep, so it’s really a no-lose for you.”
I put my hand to my heart. I thought I might cry, I was so overwhelmed by his generosity. But I knew from experience that a woman crying in the workplace got her branded a certain type of way. And it wasn’t great.
“You’ll get your base pay for a couple weeks while we’re getting your licensing requirements done.”
I nodded. “I’ve kept up with my securities licenses and my certified financial planner, so I should just need insurance licenses.”
“Amazing. You can shadow me out in the field for a while. I have enough clients coming in that I could really use some help, so you should have a steady stream of sales right off the bat. I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s decent money. It’ll get you back on your feet.”
He stood up to shake my hand again. I wanted to hug him, but even in a small town I felt like that might be frowned upon.
He walked me to the front desk. “Agnes,” he said, “Charlotte’s going to be our new saleswoman.”
“Great,” she said with as much disinterest as possible.
“She’s excited on the inside,” I whispered as he walked me to the sidewalk.
He laughed. “Agnes is a pill, but she shows up, which is more than I can say for most people. Although sometimes I wonder if it would be better if the phone didn’t get answered at all.”
I smiled at him, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thanks for taking this chance on me, Gabe. I know you’re doing it for Iris, but I really can’t tell you how much it means to me. I’m so grateful, and I’ll never forget it.”
“It’s not a chance, sweetheart. You’re a sure thing.”
There were a lot of things wrong with that sentence, but I was so happy I didn’t care. And I knew that Bill was going to be so proud of me.
I gave Grace a thumbs-up and she was clapping before I even got back to the car.
“You are looking at Montoya and Sons’ newest insurance saleswoman!” I said.
“What? You got a promotion already?”
I just grinned.
“Then I’ll be your first client.”
“Aw, Grace. You’re the best.” It struck me how, just a few days ago, I didn’t know this woman. And now she felt like my best friend. But, again, the summer camp effect.
“Let’s go get lattes to celebrate. On me.”
“Obviously,” I said. “It’s not like I’ve gotten a paycheck.” I paused. “But once I do, the first bottle of Sancerre is on me.”
“Hooray!” she said as she pulled out of the parking lot. “Charlotte’s got her groove back.”
Charlotte had her groove back, indeed.