Now life was all about Stephanie. Every purchase made. Every moment spent. Everything revolved around how it would affect Stephanie and it only motivated Stefan to get the club going sooner. One less night pacing the hallway with a blood-curdling screamer was to die for – again. If Charlotte would ease up on that rigorous feeding schedule, Stefan was convinced that Stephanie would be a happier baby and that meant he’d be a happier dad.
“I signed the lease.” Stefan said as casually as he would have stated about making a trip to the grocery store.
Suddenly Charlotte’s nonchalant attitude whipped into military-like alert. “You what?”
“I signed the lease. We’ll have to take out the home equity loan.” This is where he liked that Bible scripture about the man being head of the household. For Charlotte it was gospel and when not overused, it had worked brilliantly for him.
“I found a great website that has some good advice on teething,” Victor called out but his information was ignored.
Charlotte forced her chair closer to Stefan. “I thought we agreed to do that after the baby.” Her tone could have cut paper.
Stefan nodded at Stephanie. “This is after.”
“Uncle Victor’s going to make sure those toothies don’t hurt you,” Victor continued with the baby talk.
Stefan saw Stephanie grin. She had become familiar with Victor’s gruff voice.
“What about me?” Stefan quipped before facing Charlotte who wasn’t amused.
“What about you?” Charlotte asked with that slight sharpness again.
“Who’s going to take care of me when she’s crying about her teeth?” He flashed a smile at Charlotte reminding her who spent those long nights with the baby. It worked. Her posture relaxed as she turned towards Victor.
“He’s so good to me,” she told Victor with resignation. “Stays up with Stephanie and keeps her on her feeding schedule so I can get a good night’s rest.”
Stefan gently reached for Charlotte’s hand giving it a light kiss before holding it against his cheek. Her weary smile said enough. Mission accomplished.
* ~ *
Charlotte hadn’t slept well that night even though Stephanie had been quieter than usual. Taking on a new business consumed her thoughts and made the remainder of her evening restless. She was torn between logic versus the desires of her husband.
When she and Stefan had agreed on the new business, she had it in her mind that Stephanie would be several years old. She was still getting accustomed to having two new people in her life and financially, her sales at the shop had dropped. Juggling the baby and her business hadn’t been as easy as she thought. It made her wonder how starting a new business would affect their family.
However, Stefan shouldn’t be penalized for her ambiguity, she reckoned. With a baby, maybe there never was a good time. Even though her overall business was solid, she knew how long and grueling the hours of a new business could be. Like a baby, she knew a business demanded time and with Stefan’s sleeping disorder, they were already on empty.
She briefly thought about praying but stopped as if a tiny voice inside told her she had no right to pray. Besides the occasional, hasty meal blessings, she hadn’t personally prayed about much of anything since her youth. Why would God want to hear her problems now? She tossed and turned a few hours more before deciding to follow her husband’s lead on the new business venture. Much like her marriage, the decision to go forward with the home equity loan had been equivalent to a coin toss.
* ~ *
The next morning, the loan officer at the bank must have shared the same sentiment as he evaluated her application. Although Charlotte appeared slightly haggard, she consoled herself by noting that Stephanie was donning one of her cuter outfits.
Between cooing at the infant in the carrier and occasionally glancing over at Mr. Olmos to check his expressions, Charlotte could see that the middle-aged gentleman with his impeccable attire and surroundings didn’t approve. When it came to facial gestures, she assessed that one twitch of the nose meant review again, pulled-in lips meant inadequate, and a complete shift of the mouth to one side equated disaster. She had scored several disasters before page two of the paperwork.
“I must say Charlotte, I’m surprised by the size of this loan request,” he said with a few clicks of the pen. “You’ve always been conservative with your finances.”
“And that’s exactly why we want to be aggressive. Once Stefan’s club is up and running, he’ll have more time to be with his family.” Charlotte repeated the words Stefan had assured her with in his numerous discussions.
“Have you considered outside investors rather than putting up all the money yourself?” he asked.
She had. It was one of many suggestions that she’d made to Stefan – unwelcomed as they were.
“No, we want to get started right away.”
“You do know the consequences if you default on the loan payments. Based on your budget and timeline, you’ve left no margin for error.”
This time, Mr. Olmos’ nose and mouth expressions were absent. His solemn eyes portrayed his final assessment.
Charlotte thought back to Stefan’s words that everything would be all right. Trust me he had told her. He was her husband. Shouldn’t she trust him? The lack of sleep made it difficult to think clearly. She signed the loan papers silently praying a meek request to God. Please let this be the right thing to do.
* ~ *
Chapter Eighteen: The Club
Stefan was excited. With the money in the bank, he had scheduled a meeting with the interior designer, Barbie Bell. Showing Charlotte the location was a mere formality before the work began.
He started the evening with a calculated outing to one of Charlotte’s favorite casual restaurants where Stefan entertained Stephanie who loved to smile and laugh for her daddy as mom looked on with love.
Afterwards, they drove to the lease space where Barbie would meet them simultaneous to Charlotte’s first viewing. This was another strategic move on Stefan’s part. He hoped it would minimize any type of confrontation Charlotte may present. She was much too polite to hurl objections with a stranger, particularly one who may make her feel threatened.
Barbie wasn’t exactly Stefan’s type but she was a weapon of lust attraction for a lot of men making the females in her presence shrink in awe of her buoyancy.
Tall and leggy, Barbie was the quintessential doll moniker with a tiny waistline and blossomed bust line. A fashionista who wore a minimal amount of bright and colorful fabrics, Barbie went a step further and utilized dramatic accessories that drew focus to all the right curves.
Her clientele was vast – Victor’s recent retrofit included – and that’s where Stefan had first met her. She had extravagant tastes and her sense of style appealed to Stefan as he only wanted the very best for his club.
Charlotte had been in a jubilant mood until she preceded him down the steps to the basement level retail space. Her five-second cursory glance followed a 180-degree turn towards Stefan who gently deposited Stephanie’s carrier on the concrete floor.
“There’s nothing here.” Charlotte’s voice signaled disbelief.
“I know. That’s why we’re meeting the designer,” Stefan said.
“The designer?” Her tone escalated.
“That’s me!” A bubbly, new voice rang out.
Both Stefan and Charlotte turned to face Barbie whose sprayed-on orange tan competed with the purple shade of her low v-neck pullover. Oversized gold-hooped earrings dangled against her long, straight strands of dark blonde hair mixed with bold bleached highlights. Even her smile was big like the rest of her assets – a bright shade of faux white.
Drawn to the baby, Barbie bent down and softly petted Stephanie like a puppy before directing her attention back to Stefan.
“What a precious little one,” she commented. “She looks just like you!”
Stefan’s beam vanished once he saw the frown of disapproval on Charlotte’s face.
“Barbie, this is my wife Charlotte. Charlotte, this is Barbie, the interior designer.”
“Barbie?” Charlotte asked as more of a question versus a confirmation.
If Barbie was offended, she showed no signs. Instead she quickly handed each of them a binder.
“It’s fabulous you’re here together,” she gushed. “Now you both can take a look at some of the fixtures I’ve recommended.”
Charlotte scanned past the ad slicks to the spreadsheet of numbers in back. It was what she feared. When Stefan had provided her the budget for the loan, he’d failed to include all of the fixtures listed and she had assumed that most were already intact. The miscommunication meant thousands of dollars more.
She was almost ill when she thought back to Mr. Olmos’ statement: Based on your budget and timeline, you’ve left no margin for error.
“Stefan, these prices are three times more than what was budgeted.”
Before he could speak, Barbie chimed in. “Isn’t it always the case?”
Charlotte would have preferred to have had the conversation with Stefan in private but she could see that Stefan was mesmerized by the glossy photos. And, it didn’t seem probable that barracuda Barbie was going to downsize a potential sale.
“Are there other price ranges with a similar look?” Charlotte looked through the materials while Stefan stepped in closer and wrapped his arm lovingly around her.
“Not for the type of club we want,” he said and then nuzzled Charlotte’s neck while whispering, “Come on, baby, we’ve got to work together. I’m only doing this for you and Stephanie.”
Blessed with big ears, too, Barbie gave the pair a heartfelt sigh.
“You are so lucky. I wish I could afford to be in your shoes,” she told Charlotte.
Pulling a file from her briefcase, she handed the purchase order agreement to Charlotte while urging Stefan to join her at the other end of the space to show him where she thought the bar should go.
Disheartened, Charlotte bent down next to the carrier to check Stephanie.
“Now I know how Barbie got the beach house,” she confided to the sleeping child.
* ~ *
Chapter Nineteen: How Stupid is She?
Amelia Scoggins. Thin, plain and a head full of book smarts had landed her the recognition of being an earnest, intelligent and insightful psychologist amongst her colleagues. Anyone closer knew better.
On her second failing marriage following a trail of disastrous relationships, she also possessed the reputation of being an idiot with men among her family and friends. That’s how she was able to size up Charlotte so quickly when she walked through her office door.
Her associate had asked her to take the case at the last minute due to an unexpected family emergency. According to his notes, Charlotte Stephens had been a brief client of his five years prior and that had been a one-session deal.
Amelia subtly observed Charlotte as she nervously found a comfortable sitting position in the large wing back chair. Note to file, she scribbled on the pad, the client preferred the chair over the sofa, which always indicated to her that the client was in denial and desired to remain in control.
Charlotte didn’t really want help according to Amelia’s experience, rather she wanted to tell her story and check the box. In her fifteen years of practice, she observed the check-the-box approach was a way her clients navigated through their problems. Tell a friend, check. Tell a family member, check. Tell a professional, check. Meanwhile the problem persisted but the client was convinced that they were doing everything possible they could to solve it when in reality they had a hard time discerning that they really couldn’t live without the problem – a vicious cycle and one reason for the ongoing predicament.
Her cell phone vibrated indicating a new text message.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Amelia said in her best authoritative voice. She briskly walked to her desk to check the message before they got started in case it was Robert wanting to confirm what time she would be home.
She and her new husband, another former associate, both pretended that the notices were a courtesy. However, the home computer’s Internet history log showed otherwise. Robert didn’t want his pornography habits to be exposed. The irony of it all caused Amelia to frown as she read the text:
WHAT TIME WILL U B HOME? XO
The frontal lobes of her brain felt squeezed as she sat down to face the pretty, young woman in front of her. Fraught with anxiety, Charlotte told the tale that Amelia had heard too often.
“Have you shared your concerns with your friends, family, clergy?” Amelia asked after listening to a painful half hour’s worth of details. Same story, client number one thousand-something.
“No, I can’t talk about this to anyone,” Charlotte answered. “I feel so heavy all the time, especially since I need to ask my dad for a loan.”
I bet you do feel heavy. Amelia nodded to empathize while silently thinking: You’re carrying all the weight.
“And Stefan tries really hard,” Charlotte added to rectify any criticism of her husband.
Uh, huh, but not with you. Amelia casually rubbed the temples of her forehead as she stared at Charlotte impassively. What is Robert doing right now?
“I want to be a good wife and mother,” Charlotte said. “Maybe I’m like that book about women who love men too much. I mean I’ve never read it but sometimes I think I’m like the title.”
No, honey, they wrote a sequel for you. It’s titled “How Stupid is She?”
Amelia forced a smile even though her head throbbed. What would she fix Robert for dinner tonight?
“What should I do?” Charlotte asked.
Kill him if you can get away with it. “Charlotte, I like that you’re expressing your feelings and starting to question your life. It’s your life, too. Stefan’s only part of the equation.”
“And Stephanie,” Charlotte included.
Poor kid. Codependent mother, narcissistic father. A quick glance to the clock above the wing back chair provided relief for Amelia. Session was over.
“Next time I want us to discuss personality disorders like codependency and narcissism. Now I’m not saying that you or Stefan have these. We all have a little of each in us but it may be helpful information to know,” Amelia informed Charlotte.
“Oh, good, because I want to do everything I can to help him,” Charlotte said.
Yes, that’s the problem. Amelia quickly shifted her thoughts again to her husband. Would Robert be okay with chicken again or should she try that new Thai dish?
Robert’s preferences continued to dominate Amelia’s mind as Charlotte pulled a pair of boxing gloves from her oversized handbag.
“I’ve taken up boxing. Sometimes I think it helps to punch a bag,” Charlotte explained when she noticed Amelia’s curious gaze.
Amelia gave her a weary smile. Maybe there was hope.
* ~ *
Chapter Twenty: More Punches
Charles turned the corner from Charlotte’s flower shop to a less renovated side street of the old neighborhood retail area. Unlike the rows of shops canopied by stylish awnings and trendy storefronts, these buildings were barren of color, abandoned by history.
He was unclear why a woman of Charlotte’s class would have an interest in boxing in a gym full of sweaty guys, however, she assured him that she needed a physical outlet. This had been before the baby, now Charles wondered why tennis or an aerobics class wouldn’t suffice.
Upon entry, Charlotte had been easy to spot. She was the only female punching a bag. With her hair pulled up tightly to the back of her head, Charles could see the intensity on her face.
“Tammy said you’d be here,” he said as he approached her swinging with force.
Charlotte swiveled to see her dad, and then took one more hard punch before stopping for a water break.
“So you’re taking this up again?” her father asked.
She could tell he didn’t believe it to be very
lady-like, much less appropriate for his daughter, yet Charlotte found it comforting. The less than pretentious setting allowed her to express the anger she felt inside but could rarely exhibit – perhaps because of her upbringing. Good Southern girls didn’t get angry.
But Charlotte was angry. She was probably the angriest nice person there was and that was her dilemma. Where was this coming from and how could she reconcile the feelings?
“Dad, did you ever have this feeling that something wasn’t right?”
“Many times. Could be gut instinct, the Holy Spirit or bad food. What’s wrong?”
Charlotte carefully analyzed her father’s concerned face. “I don’t exactly know. Whatever it is, it makes me feel better to take a big punch at this bag.”
Charlotte took another hard hit at the bag and then decided against voicing her suspicions to her dad. She had already caused him enough grief. Her whole life was a tangled mess. It seemed as though she was fighting an unseen opponent, more powerful than the impermeable leather in front of her.
* ~ *
Meanwhile, in his new space, Stefan watched the back of the leather office chair take a 180-turn. Seated in the chair now facing him was Lisa sporting a dark, short bob to disguise her previous hairstyle of long, blonde tresses.
Stefan focused the digital camera on her, snapping another close-up.
“You’ve made Daddy very happy that you’ve come back,” he told her. “Now I have someone to help me.”
“Any way I can.” Lisa struck a pose with her signature arrogance intact.
“You’re the best.” He took another shot.
This time Lisa didn’t respond in kind.
“When are you going to tell her?” she demanded.
“Give me time, baby, give me time.”
Fortunately, it was time for Stefan to meet Barbie at the design store before it closed. He wanted to avoid any more discussions with Lisa concerning Charlotte because he’d grown rather accustomed to his new lifestyle since Lisa had left town and didn’t want it jeopardized just because she was back. However, that didn’t mean that he still didn’t want Lisa. She was a nice side attraction when she wasn’t trying to possess him.
Charlotte Marries a Vampire Page 8
