“We have savings.” She returned the volley.
“Some.”
“What about that special account you labeledDo Not Touch, Ever, and then in parentheses,Yes, You, Wren.”
“It’s not enough.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I just know. I watch the news.”
“So, what, you’re just going to let Jake Tapper or whoever decide the rest of our life? We should at least go see what’s out there.”
Arthur sighed again. “I don’t know.”
Frankly, he didn’t need the heartbreak. He’d heard enough stories from the other teachers at school of dream homes getting snatched out from under them for 150 percent of the list price with a full cash offer. He didn’t need to go looking at places they couldn’t afford, or worse, at places they could. He didn’t need another reminder of what a failure he was.
“Are you declaring Rumpelstiltskin already? Because you’re being a total chicken right now. I may not be able to free-fall into a volcano, but there’s absolutely no reason we can’t give this a fair shot.”
“A chicken? Really?”
“At the very least, you’re being a silly goose. You’re definitely some kind of cowardly bird.”
“All for being fiscally responsible, for wanting a secure financial future for our family, for not wanting to make rash, impulsive, poorly thought-out decisions that could jeopardize our entire life together.”
“Yes, exactly.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. He hated that he’d agreed to play along with her twisted little game. While he and Wren had never openly talked about names together, he had a majorpreference for traditional names. Strong names for a boy, something like Jack or Ben. He’d always lamented that Arthur was an old-man name he’d spend his whole life growing into. It sounded frail, like a name that came pre-bundled with suspenders and a walking cane. He never had a chance. For girls he liked simple, like Emma, or something short and boyish, like Alex.
God knows what Wren was thinking. Moonflower or Ziggy or Natasha, probably. He couldn’t afford not to have a vote when the day came.
But more than that, he’d hated the look in Wren’s eyes the other day at the skydiving joint. The searing, palpable disappointment was too much for him. He couldn’t bring himself to let her down again.
“OK,” Arthur finally said. “OK, OK, OK. We’ll go see some houses. But I need your help,” he added. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Oh, I’ve got a few ideas.”
Arthur craned his neck to take in the entire structure. All three levels. The sun, peeking over the ornate, castle-like crest of the home, was blinding. A crystal chandelier hanging inside, and the impossibly sparkling windows, only reflected even more light. It physically hurt to try to take it all in at once, the feeling not unlike trying to comprehend the limits of the universe and the implications of your own insignificance in the grand scheme: pain.
“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” he said.
Wren said something, but it was hard to hear her over theburbling cherub fountain, which was placed delicately in the center of a beautiful circular driveway. A hot yellow Porsche would be right at home here, or a fleet of black SUVs with tinted windows. Their gray beater sedan, parked awkwardly near a palm tree, looked horribly out of place and temporary. Like the pizza guy was going to drive it out of eyeline posthaste.
“I said, ‘I think it suits us,’ ” she repeated as she ambled closer.
He decided to play along. It wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, of course. Wrong part of town, a little stuffy. Oh, and the seven-figure price tag. But it was just like Wren to bring him someplace like this, try to get a laugh out of him. He couldn’t deny her that after she’d gone to all this trouble. “I don’t know.” He tsked. “Itisa little dated. Look at the columns. A little second century AD for my taste.”
“That’s fair.”
“Plus, I’m afraid we’ll outgrow it. I don’t want the children being forced to share a wing.”
“No, of course. They’ll be teased mercilessly at school. Won’t make any friends. Unless…”
He snapped his fingers, as if struck with a genius idea. “We buy them friends.”
“I’ll make the call, then.”
He laughed.
