I look at Charles, wondering where this is going. “No, you didn’t. That sounds wonderful.”
“Some of them were, but most of them were a lot of work. When you meet as high school sweethearts, you need to do a lot of growing and changing together. We didn’t always grow at the same pace. Took us a while to figure out how to catch up to each other.”
I smile at Charles and get to cleaning up. “Thank you, I will keep that in mind.” As I unplug the diffusers, I fill him in on how the open house went. “I hope to be receiving some offers soon; if not, I promise I will schedule another open house right away. I will make sure you get everything you need, quickly.”
Charles smiles, “You have nothing to prove to me, Becca. I know you can do this. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
And with that boost of confidence, I pack up my signs and head back to the Rothschilds’ for one final night with Bernie.
16
BECCA
My last morning with Bernie has arrived. As I’m zipping up my carry-on, I hear Mrs. Rothschild walk in. “Oh, there is my sweet, sweet, Bernard!” She crouches on the ground, more agile than I expected for a woman her age.
Bernie gives her sloppy dog kisses, clearly excited to have his parents home.
“Who is the best boy? Yes, Mommy missed you so, so much!”
Mr. Rothschild smiles indulgently at his wife and dog. They both look sun-kissed from the Amalfi Coast, relaxed and glowing like people who spent two extra weeks drinking wine by the sea.
“Becca, thank you for taking care of the place. I especially appreciated the daily updates; it kept my Abigail happy to know her flowers were growing and her boy was happy.”
“No problem at all, Mr. Rothschild, I was happy to do so.”
“Everything looks perfect, I can’t thank you enough, Becca!” Mrs. Rothschild beams, not letting go of Bernie. “Here is your check. Thank you again, and we will talk next summer. We are thinking of a tour of the Galapagos next!”
A pang hits me as I look at their life. Their love, their ability to travel, but I squash the feeling. Just because I haven’t gone anywhere yet doesn’t mean I won’t, with or without my husband.
I pack my things and deposit the check on my mobile banking app. My eyes grow larger at the amount: $1,500! It’s more than our agreed upon amount, and definitely unnecessary. With this, I can make an extra payment to Bennet to help pay down my loan more quickly. I send him a quick text:
Me: Hey, can I make an extra payment this month? I want to start tackling the payment plan you gave me aggressively.
As I wait for a response, I drive to the cabin and go over the mental checklist still left to do. I brought the box of tile Sam picked out earlier, and I intend to install it later. How hard can it be? I have seen enough HGTV episodes; I think I've got it.
As I pull in, I look over to the fire pit and see two beautifully painted Adirondack chairs in the same color as the cabin. I have always wanted these. I had hinted to Sam for years that I find these the best chairs, and the plastic ones just don’t cut it. I know right away these are from him; the craftsmanship and attention to detail couldn’t be from anyone else.
I snap a photo and send a quick text to
I am having a Zentrology Night at the cabin tonight. The additional seating will be useful … I will try not to let the girls perform any fiery rituals near it.
Sam
Of course. Be safe and have fun. Let me know if you need anything.
I walk into the cabin, mentally preparing myself for the cluster of the backsplash install, when my eyes widen. The beautiful tile has already been installed. Tucked back into the corner, barely seen behind the cabinet lip, is a piece of paper, another build note.
I keep thinking about how I said it was my money, and how easy that came out. Like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. Because I never had to think about it the way you do. You planned for it, stretched it. You gave it away even when you didn’t have enough. I took what we built and acted like it was mine to decide. It wasn’t, and I see that now.
I close my eyes and inhale a shaky breath. I know our circumstances, our personal experiences, shape our worldview, especially when it comes to money. Sam knew I had financial anxiety and how hard we worked.
Maybe to him, saving up that amount felt possible, easily repeatable. It doesn’t make it okay, but when money has always been in abundance, it feels different.
I fold the note once, then again, and tuck it into the drawer. I don't know what to do with it yet.
Not wanting to dwell on these topics anymore, I get busy unloading my clothes into the small closet and unpacking my toiletries. It’s tight, even with my limited supply, but still homey. The kitchen’s stocked with mismatched thrift store finds—plates, glasses, silverware that don’t quite match butsomehow works. The mismatched coffee mugs from local areas in Cascadia are my personal favorite.
I barely finish putting away my stuff before headlights sweep across the trees. I step back outside as doors start slamming and voices carry across the clearing.
