“I wish I could come home now,” Claire grumbled.
“That would hurt Grandma and Grandpa's feelings.” And Aaron would have a fit. “Try and have a good time. Okay?”
“Okay,” Claire said in resigned tones.
They said their good-byes and the martyr hung up.
“I guess once my kids are back that will be the end of life as we know it,” Rachel couldn't help saying as she set down the phone.
Chad put an arm around her and drew her to him. “Not necessarily.”
She laid a hand on his chest. “You never really did say. Do you like children?”
“The ones I know,” he answered with a smile that showed deep dimples.
He started to kiss her but she moved her face away a little. “Chad, I don't want to take this relationship any further if there's no chance it can be permanent. Summer flings are great for Holly-wood actresses and jet-setters, but not me.” Wonderful as this all was, she couldn't push her heart any further toward pain. “If this isn't going anywhere I want to stop. Right now.” Before her hormones led her over the cliff.
The smile disappeared and so did the dimples. “I'm not looking to get hurt either, Rachel. You don't strike me as that kind of woman, and I hope I don't strike you as that kind of man. I don't know where this is going, but I'm not here to have fun with you while your kids are gone and then disappear when they come back.”
She nodded. That was fair enough. She knew he couldn't promise her forever right now. Their relationship was still too new. She would have to trust that he was hoping for something permanent, too. She would have to trust, period. She closed her eyes and kissed him.
• 23 •
“Guess what I got,” Tiffany said as soon as Rachel and Jess walked through her front door.
“Gee, let me think,” said Rachel. “It's Saturday and you've been hitting garage sales. Sooo, something to sell on eBay?”
“Actually, something for me,” said Tiffany. “And Brian is okay with me keeping it cuz he knows I'll save a fortune.”
Rachel and Jess exchanged concerned looks. Tiff had been doing a good job of salting away her money, but this was the kind of reasoning that had gotten her in trouble when she was prowling the mall for bargains. Had she finally succeeded in brainwashing Brian?
“All right, now I'm dying to see,” said Jess as Tiffany led them out to the kitchen. There, on the counter, sat an espresso maker.
“Ta-dah!” crowed Tiffany.
“That's a pretty big purchase,” Rachel observed. Even at a garage sale it couldn't have been cheap.
Tiff frowned at her. “Okay, how much do you think I paid for it?”
“You had to have shot at least fifty dollars on it,” said Rachel.
“Well, I didn't. I only paid twenty, which is about the cost of five lattes. Not that I've been buying many,” she quickly added.
Jess's mouth dropped. “You got an espresso maker for twenty dollars?”
Tiffany nodded eagerly. “I've always wanted one. And the diva on a dime says this is the smart way to have lattes.” She held up a package of coffee grounds. “I got these on the way home. I'm going to make us mochas before we pick blackberries.”
Rachel spotted the bottle of coffee syrup. “So you paid another eight for the coffee grounds and probably another ten for the syrup. Now your espresso maker is up to forty dollars.”
“It's still cheaper than going to The Coffee Stop all the time,” Tiffany insisted. “Now, do you want a latte or not?”
“What the heck,” Rachel said with a shrug. “I'll enable you.” She picked up the instruction booklet lying on the counter. “Have you figured out how to work this thing?”
“Of course, I have,” said Tiffany, insulted. She opened the coffee grounds package and dipped in the scoop, then dumped it in the filter holder.
Jess picked up the filter basket. “Don't you need this?”
“I think that's what I put in if I want to make just one cup,” said Tiffany.
“Gosh, I don't know,” said Rachel, flipping through the instruction booklet.
“Don't look at me,” said Jess. “Technology isn't my thing.”
“Okay,” said Tiff. “It's heating up. This is going to be so great, you guys. Just think, lattes every day for next to nothing.” They all stood watching the machine, like kids in an ice cream shop, waiting for the server to hand them their cones.
“That light went off,” said Jess, pointing.
“That means it's ready,” said Tiff.
She pushed a switch and the machine came to life. It began to hum. Then it sputtered. And then it spat, launching steaming coffee grounds like missiles. Tiffany screeched and jumped back. Jess yelped as a blob of coffee hit her sweatshirt. The espresso equivalent of an Uzi, the machine sprayed coffee on the counter, the floor, and Tiffany as she gingerly turned it off.
For a moment the three women stood regarding what had only a moment before been a weapon of mass destruction. Then Jess said, “Lucy, I'm home,” and they all began to laugh.
Tiffany picked up the filter basket. “I guess I did need this.”
Jess grabbed a sponge from the sink and began to clean the mess and Rachel picked up the instruction booklet, saying, “Okay, let's try this again. This time with safety goggles.”
Another ten minutes and they were enjoying caramel mochas. “All right,” said Rachel, scooping that last bit of foam out of her mug, “you were right. This is a great investment.”
“It's the only thing I've gotten in weeks that I haven't put up for sale,” Tiffany assured her.
“You're doing great,” said Jess, “and we're proud of you. We're all doing great,” she added with a decisive nod.
“I'm feeling pretty pleased with us,” Rachel said with a smile. “And just think, after today we'll have more jam for presents.”
“I'm keeping some of this batch for myself,” said Jess. “Anything to help the grocery budget.” She downed the last of her latte and set the mug in the sink. “I may even keep that blackberry liqueur we're going to make for myself, too. If Michael doesn't have a job by Christmas, I'll drink every drop.”
The party atmosphere fled the kitchen. Poor Jess. Heck, poor all of them, thought Rachel. The job offers hadn't exactly been rolling in for her, either, and Brian's job still was tottering on the edge of oblivion. “He'll find something,” Rachel assured Jess, not because she believed it but because she wanted to. She had to believe things would improve, for all of them.
“He can't stay unemployed forever,” added Tiffany.
Jess heaved a sigh. “That's what you'd think. You know, the only good thing about this is that at least now he understands a little of what it was like for Mikey. There's good news on that front anyway. The temp agency is keeping Mikey busy and he and his friend Dan and another guy are going to get an apartment together in the city.”
“So life is good for the kids,” said Rachel.
“Thank heaven, because at the rate we're going, we may wind up having to move in with one of them.” Jess took her berry-picking bucket from the counter where she'd set it. “Come on. Let's go scrounge up some free food. I have a feeling we're going to need it.”
The three friends didn't have far to go on their berry-picking expedition thanks to a patch of berries at the far end of the development, and after two hours of sweat and a good collection of scratches from the stickers, they had harvested a bumper crop of berries. “This should be enough to get half of Heart Lake bombed,” said Jess, as they walked home past neat tract mansions with manicured lawns.
“We can freeze them and make the cordial in November,” said Rachel. “I think the recipe said it needs six weeks to ferment.”
“I say we make some now and sample it. To make sure it's good enough to give away for Christmas,” said Jess with a grin.
“Good idea,” agreed Tiffany.
“We still need enough berries to make jam,” cautioned Rachel.
Tiffany sighed. “I think
we're going to have to come back and pick more. Gosh, who knew it was so much work to save money? No wonder hardly anyone ever does.”
“But think of the fun we're having while we work,” Rachel reminded her.
Tiffany looked at her scratched hands. “Yeah, fun.”
It was fun, Rachel wrote later in her blog, conveniently forgetting to mention the heat and the scratches from the stickers. It's hard to describe how rewarding it feels to work together to help each other survive. This is what our grandmothers and great-grandmothers did when they canned together and had quilting bees. They reaped a double bonus: the work got done and they kept their friendships strong. I'm beginning to think our grandmothers and great-grandmothers were onto something.
Rachel finished typing and sat back, to recheck her grammar and spelling. Good enough, she decided. Chad was taking her to his sister's restaurant for dinner and another salsa dancing lesson. After that, she would change back from swinging single woman to mom. She could hardly wait to see her children again, but she had to admit she was going to miss the everyday freedom she'd been enjoying. For a few weeks she'd had a great buzz going and it had helped her cope with the looming specter of a financially uncertain school year. The irritants that were Aaron and Misty had been happily missing from her life and she had lived in a romantic bubble.
She went upstairs and ran a bath, adding her favorite bath melt. After tonight the bubble would probably burst, but, like Scarlett O'Hara, she'd think about that tomorrow.
Rachel's last ride in the bubble was perfect. Chad had arrived bearing a single red rose. Amazing how much the man could accomplish on little money—so much more than Aaron had ever managed on probably twice the income. Chad's sister Maria had been delighted to see her again and kept them supplied with complimentary margaritas. And dancing with Chad had gotten Rachel hotter than a chili pepper.
Remembering his steamy kisses was enough to heat her up all over again as she drove to Sea-Tac Airport to fetch the children on Sunday.
Once she was at the luggage claim and saw them all thoughts of romance were obliterated by a strong maternal takeover. Her babies were back!
David bounded up to her all smiles and energy. He'd grown at least an inch, she was sure of it. Even Claire was smiling. She had changed, too. Claire had a new haircut.
“Look at you,” said Rachel, running a hand through her daughter's hair. “Don't you look all New York?”
“Grandma bought me new clothes for school, too,” said Claire.
“Your reward for going to the museums,” said Rachel, and her daughter made a face. The unsporting half of Rachel wanted to make a face, too. So much for getting a new haircut as part of Girl Camp. Her mother-in-law had stolen her thunder. But, Rachel reminded herself, she should be happy her children had grandparents who could afford to spoil them. Her own mother certainly couldn't. And neither could she. So, it's a good thing, she told herself, channeling Martha Stewart.
“I'm starving,” announced David.
The stomach with legs had returned. Rachel tousled his hair. “I figured you would be, which is why we're going to get hamburgers before we go home.” It was a far cry from the restaurants where her children had been eating in the Big Apple, she knew.
Fortunately for Rachel, her children hadn't outgrown the stage where burgers were bliss. “All right!” said David. Even Claire was still smiling.
All through the meal the children regaled her with tales of their adventures in New York. She listened and said all the right things, but behind her positive façade, resentment grew. The children had spent a month living the high life thanks to Aaron and his parents. Now that they were back with her it was going to be burgers and budgets once more. It was unfair. Aaron and his gang got to spend money on fun like there was no tomorrow. Rachel had no guarantee of a tomorrow and could hardly spend a dime.
“Are we still doing Girl Camp?” Claire asked as the minivan sped down the freeway toward home.
“Do you still want to do it?” asked Rachel.
“Well, yeah,” said Claire in a voice that implied if her mother thought otherwise she was beyond stupid.
“Then we are,” said Rachel, and tried not to think about how pathetically her Girl Camp activities would stack up next to New York and Disneyland.
On her side of the minivan, Claire was already madly texting, probably to Bethany. “Can Bethany spend the night tonight?”
“Sure. Why not?” Let the games begin. “And I guess if Bethany is spending the night we'd better stop by the store and stock up on essentials like ice cream,” Rachel added.
“And chips?” asked David hopefully.
“And chips.”
They not only got ice cream and chips at the store, Rachel also wound up with candy, refrigerated cookie dough, microwave popcorn, and the makings for Belgian waffles in her grocery cart. What are you doing? she asked herself as she wheeled her unnecessary purchases to the checkout. As if she didn't know. She was spending money out of guilt. Again. And trying to buy her children's affection. Stupid.
“We are not going to make a habit out of this,” she said firmly, and both Claire and David nodded solemnly. It went without saying that they didn't really believe her. She didn't really believe herself.
She thought of Tiffany's buying binges. Every time it seemed Tiff had rationalized her behavior, then followed that with a vow to do better next time. Now she was doing the same thing. She bought different things and for different reasons, but where was her control? A whole month of being careful with her money and look what she did within two hours of getting her children back! She looked in the cart. The goodies sat there, mocking her. This was celebration overload.
She stopped, right in the middle of the aisle. “Okay, guys. We have to make a decision.”
“About what else to get?” asked David.
Rachel shook her head. “No. About what to put back. Sorry, but I just totaled what we've spent so far and we really can't go this much over our food budget. Two things have to go. You two decide.”
“Mom.” Claire looked at Rachel as if her last brain cell had died.
Rachel's diet had been relatively spartan with her children gone. Watching what she spent on food was as important now that they were back. Even more so, in fact, because she had to make sure they ate well. She motioned to the goodies in the cart. “This is the kind of overload that sinks ships. So, before ours sinks, I want you two to figure out what we're going to toss. Okay? Pretend we're in shark-infested waters in a rubber boat with a big leak and we're going down fast. We have to make it to the island. What's going?”
David shrugged and grabbed for the ice cream, but Claire reached out a hand and stopped him. “No, not that. If we keep the ice cream we can have shakes.” She stood a moment, studying the contents of the cart. “Popcorn will last longer than chips.”
David frowned. “I like chips.”
“Then let's put back the cookies and the candy,” suggested Claire. “We can make cookies, right?” she said to Rachel.
“Absolutely. In fact, that's on our list of activities for the week.”
Claire and David looked at each other, considering, then David scooped the candy and the cookie dough out of the cart and trotted off to put them back.
“Good choices,” Rachel said, and hugged her daughter. “You will be an amazing money manager someday.”
Claire showed her appreciation for her mother's compliment by making a face. But she had a perfectly good time that evening consuming popcorn and chocolate shakes and playing Crazy Eights with her family and her best friend. Someday her daughter would look back and savor this moment, Rachel assured herself. She knew she would.
The following day Girl Camp was in full swing, starting with Belgian waffles for breakfast and followed by egg yolk facials. Lunch was lemonade and egg salad sandwiches dressed up with fancy shapes prepared by Rachel and served by David, who agreed to be a waiter in exchange for his very own batch of peanut butter cookies. And in
the afternoon Rachel taught them some basic salsa steps.
“Wow, Mom. When did you learn to salsa dance?” asked Claire in amazement.
“A friend taught me,” Rachel said with a smile.
“That was so fun,” Bethany enthused when her mother came to pick her up. “What are we doing tomorrow?”
“Beading, and after lunch Tiffany's coming over to give you manicures and pedicures.”
“Wow,” breathed Bethany.
“You're setting the bar pretty high,” teased Bethany's mom.
No, setting the bar high was a month-long stay in New York, thought Rachel.
But as the week rolled by, Claire and Bethany enthused over every activity she came up with for them. Of course, every day included some kind of girly spa thing, and a craft of some sort. Three days Jess met them at the tennis courts as soon as she was done teaching gymnastics and gave both the girls and David tennis lessons. The highlight of the camp was on Friday. David, not wanting to dress up, ate early and escaped to shoot baskets while the girls enjoyed a gala dinner of hamburger stroganoff and biscuits that they had made themselves. They finished with the strawberries they had dipped in chocolate and sparkling cider served in Rachel's good champagne glasses.
“So, a toast,” Rachel proposed after she'd poured sparkling cider all around. “To being a girl.”
“And to my mom,” added Claire. “She's awesome.”
It was all Rachel could do not to cry as they all clinked glasses. She grabbed her camera and held it at arm's length, capturing three smiling faces—two young, fresh, and hopeful, and one not so fresh, but hopeful all the same.
Dressed to the hilt in the fancy clothes they'd found at the Goodwill, the girls paraded to the living room to finish the straw-berries and enjoy a teen chick flick. Rachel watched them with a smile. Girl Camp was a success. She'd expended a little money and a lot of effort and what she had right now was priceless.
The movie was half over when Chad showed up at the front door, holding a pizza box. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by and see how Girl Camp went.”
Small Change Page 19
