Chapter 12 #3
While crossing town in her new Mercedes, I told Erica my decision on the drive toward the first place on the list, and I even told her about my retaliation—all the releases I’d been enjoying.
I told her about unplugging Rory’s phone, mismatching his socks, mixing up his shoes, hiding his slippers, deleting his games; and then I gathered up the nerve to tell her about scrubbing the toilet bowl with Rory’s toothbrush.
I expected some laughter, but she stayed completely silent as I gave her the details.
After a slight pause, she reluctantly replied, “You’re crazy. You know that, right? No one in her right mind does those things.”
Her sobering comment lowered my enthusiasm level to a crawl. “It worked.”
She started to say something and then held back.
“What?” I asked, eyeing Erica and then the mini hula girl dancing on the dashboard. I felt like both of them were judging me.
“It didn’t work, Margot. Your husband cheated on you. I don’t see how you think you’ve gotten him back.”
I tried to convince her I knew what I was doing. “Trust me. He’s there. I have him right where I want him. He said he’d even resign if I want him to. He will definitely buy me this bed-and-breakfast.”
“I hate to rain on your parade, honey, but your buying this place is just a poor attempt at filling the hole in your heart.”
I was tired of her trying to convince me to leave him, and my patience was wearing thin. “Look,” I said, “I knew you’d kill me if I didn’t call you to see these places, but I can’t have you trying to persuade me to divorce him every time you open your mouth.”
Erica took her time responding, probably resisting the urge to give me a good slap.
“I can’t allow my best friend to walk through life with one foot in the grave.
I feel like you’ve given up on yourself.
It’s like all you care about is Jasper and his future.
You wouldn’t dare force him to grow up without a father, even though you must realize Rory stepped out of the father scene a long time ago, and you’re not even considering yourself in this equation. ”
“Why are you being so harsh? What’s wrong with me wanting Jasper to grow up in a two-parent home?”
“Because Jasper’s father is an asshole. He’s somehow put a spell on you that makes you think he loves you. Where is he right now? He’s probably with that girl.”
“No, he’s not. He will never see her again.”
Erica rolled her eyes.
An incoming call saved our conversation and emotions from further escalation. For a minute, at least. Erica answered via the display on the console. It was the listing agent for one of the homes. She would meet us in twenty minutes!
Returning to our dangerous chat, Erica said, “Look, l know you’re tired of hearing it from me, but that doesn’t mean I will stop.
I swear, Margot. You remind me of an anorexic.
Everyone around you sees the problems, sees the only clear solution.
Everyone but you! That’s basically your problem.
You still don’t think you’re skinny enough! ”
“Please turn the car around,” I said, looking out the passenger-side window. “I can’t keep listening to you.”
She touched my arm. “I’m sorry.”
I still didn’t look at her. “Please don’t make me feel any worse than I already do. Looking at houses together is supposed to be fun. You’re the one who told me to chase my dreams, and I will start my own bed-and-breakfast.”
“I’ll tell you one more thing, and then I’ll shut up if you want me to. You can’t chase your dreams with an albatross around your neck. That man is holding you back.”
“That man is the father of my son. He’s my best friend.”
Erica lowered her voice. “I dearly love you, Margot, but we will have to agree to disagree. There’s not much more I can say.”
I finally turned to her. “You know I appreciate your caring for me, but this is my decision, and I will stand by him. He’s paying for his actions.
The entire world knows he screwed up. He will deal with that for the rest of his life.
I’ll never let him live it down. He owes me forever.
” I was about to rip the mini hula girl off the dashboard and toss her out the window.
“If you only knew how unhealthy you sound right now,” Erica said.
I let my head fall back to the headrest. I covered my eyes. Do all the people I know think they know what’s best for me? They can’t know. Every marriage is different, and no one can know what it’s like for me unless she’s walked my exact path in my shoes.
While I wallowed in my thoughts, Erica remained silent and kept her eyes on the road.
I hated the first place. Possibly because I was so exhausted from our conversation.
Or maybe it was the linoleum floors and the utter disregard for any sense of style.
We couldn’t reach the agent for the second inn.
It was still occupied, so we did a quick drive-by and got a good look from the car.
I didn’t love this one either. It had all the charm of a backwoods prison complex.
Probably a good spot to keep Rory locked up but not so much for entertaining.
I was losing faith, but the third place wasn’t so bad. I felt some excitement—not that love-at-first-sight-we-were-meant-to-be-together kind of excitement, but I was open to considering it.
Like my own home, the property had a nice long driveway and felt private. The inn needed a paint job, but the wraparound porch evoked images of Great-Gatsby-style cocktail parties. I could see myself welcoming with open arms my guests who’d been driving all day to escape their exhausting lives.
A frozen pond gave the scene a fairy tale vibe.
An adorable rowboat rested upside down on the shore.
I could see children casting lines in, hoping for a bite.
Their parents could be sitting in Adirondack chairs in the shade of a red maple tree sipping on a local cider and gushing about how wonderful the innkeeper is.
“That Margot, how does she even do it? She doesn’t miss a detail! And isn’t she gorgeous?”
The agent met us at the steps. He was a young man with a blond beard and hazel eyes and carried a leather satchel that likely had the MLS listing printed out and maybe some comps.
Erica couldn’t help flirting with him as we meandered through the house. The list of chores stacked up in my mind. Floors needed to be redone, walls knocked down, windows updated. Dear God, the kitchen. We’d have to completely redo it. How had they been working in here?
Still, finding the perfect spot would never be possible.
“I could make this work,” I said to them both, interrupting a conversation about their favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Erica eat ice cream, but I let it slide.
Maybe I was less than totally enthusiastic about the property.
“Yeah,” the blond beard said, “it has such nice bones. Have you run a bed-and-breakfast before?”
“Only in my dreams.” I wondered how many times he’d say “it has such nice bones” in his short career.
He shifted his satchel to his other shoulder. “The owners did a great job for a long time, but they’re getting older, and she’s had some health issues. They’re ready to accept an offer.”
My eyebrows curled. “It’s only been on the market a few weeks. They’re already desperate.”
“Let’s just say there are some health issues in the family.”
As we left, I tried to convince myself that this place could be the one of my dreams. Perfection was an impossible target. This place had good bones (oh, God, did I just say that?), it was located only a few miles away from our house, and the sellers were eager to move.
And did I mention it had good bones?
I looked at Erica, who was driving entirely too fast down the country road. “I know you think I’m crazy. Unhealthy. Whatever. I want that house. Please call the agent and figure out how low the sellers will go.”
Erica was frustrated with me, but knew she couldn’t say any more bad things about my husband. “I say we put in an offer $25K less and test the water.” She added, “Do you want to talk to Rory?”
I took a moment to enjoy how little say my husband had in this decision “Yeah, but I’ll talk to him later. Go ahead and draw up the papers. I’m buying this place whether he likes it or not.”
Still, I knew I’d have to talk to him. Jasper first, and then Rory. As Erica drove me home, I texted the Dream Killer who no longer had the ability to kill dreams. It’s time to come home.
From the confines of the doghouse from which he may never escape, Rory wrote back in less than a minute. Okay, whatever you say.
My anger dissipated. I would have preferred a Yes, Admiral Margot, or, Aye, aye, Captain, but it was a start.
Forget him anyway. This B&B was happening.
It’d been only a week since he’d been caught cheating on me, and I’d already bounced back. All I had to do was focus on something good to distract me from the bad. I could somehow move past my husband’s infidelity if it got me my dream.