by Claire Cook
What if that drunk gets into the car, just as we’re heading home, all buckled into our minivan, snug as a bug in a rug? What if something happens to one of the kids? What if that lump on Greg’s knee turns out to be, you know, something? What if the crazy guy comes back again? What if he has friends?
For the rest of my life, I’d never again open a door without thinking about what could be on the other side.
CHAPTER 39
I UNHOOKED MY SEAT BELT while Denise was still pulling into my driveway.
“Thank you,” I said. “And sorry to make you get up so early.”
Denise yawned. “It’s not like there was anything to hang around for. And I need to go makeup shopping anyway.”
I tried to laugh, but it came out like a croak.
Denise gave me a shove. “Go. Call me later.”
We’d left so early that even the Atlanta streets were deserted. When we dropped off my rental car, the sleepy guy at the desk offered to drive us to the nearest MARTA station.
At the airport, I overpaid for a ticket while Denise paid the standby fee to get on the earlier flight.
She handed me her receipt. “Bill him. For both of us.”
The flight was only half full. I tapped my toes and tried not to think, but every single horror story I’d absorbed over the years flashed through my head: entire families murdered in burglaries gone bad, gas explosions, accidental poisonings, heart attacks. I should have planned better, checked in more, said I love you a zillion extra times to each member of my family.
The outside house lights twinkled in the morning sun. The shades were still down.
I opened the mudroom door and stepped over a pair of sneakers. I slid my key into the lock that opened the door to the kitchen.
A towering pile of pizza boxes greeted me from the kitchen counter. Shannon’s Bedazzler shared the granite island with Mouse Trap, three empty beer bottles, a glass half full of milk, a Diet Coke can.
The kitchen cabinets were still doorless.
I couldn’t believe it.
I dropped my carry-on to the floor and plunked my shoulder bag on the counter. I jogged across the great room to the center staircase.
“Somebody better be hurt,” I yelled.
The bathroom door creaked open. “Hey,” Greg said as he jogged down the stairs. “What are you doing home?”
“What happened?” I said.
Greg tilted his head. “Shannon didn’t tell you, did she?”
He leaned in for a kiss. I took a step back. “Where are they? What happened? Just tell me.”
“Relax,” Greg said. “Everything’s fine. The kids went out for a jog. They tried keeping up with me yesterday, and I blew them both out of the water. So now they’re in training.”
I wondered if coming back early for no reason to a house that was not only not ready to go on the market but a total disaster was grounds for divorce. I fought for control. “Why didn’t you call me back?”
Greg smiled. “I tried once. But then I wanted to surprise you, and I had to wait till I was sure.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I said. I might have even screamed it.
“The house,” Greg said. “We sold the house.”
I could see his lips moving and even hear the words, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around what he was saying.
“What?” I said.
“We sold the house. I mentioned it to the tennis guys a couple weeks ago, and I guess one of them knew somebody who knew somebody who was looking. Anyway, we were out in the side yard playing badminton—Shannon and me against Luke and Raven—and this couple just pulled into the driveway. So I let them in and they loved it.”
“You let them in? Please tell me the house didn’t look like this.”
Greg shrugged. “Who cares? They made us an offer we couldn’t refuse. I called a real estate lawyer from my gym, and he drew up the purchase and sales. As soon as you sign, we’ll be in escrow. Shannon offered to forge your signature if we didn’t have time to FedEx it to you. She said she perfected it in high school.”
I sat down on the stairs. “You let them see the kitchen without the cabinet doors?”
Greg sat down beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. “Hon, you’re missing the point.”
I shook my head. “Just tell me you didn’t let them open the drawers. Or the closets.”
Greg kissed me on top of the head.
“Wait,” I said. “We don’t want to give it away. Fully staged houses always get more money. How much did they offer?”
He told me.
“Seriously?” I said.
“Seriously,” he said.
“Do they know the housing market is in a slump?”
Greg wiggled his eyebrows. “It didn’t seem like the best time to bring it up.”
I closed my eyes and leaned against my husband as the full weight of seller’s remorse kicked in. “It’s just that there are so many memories in this house.”
Greg squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll pack them up and take them with us. Plus, now we don’t have any choice. The kids split up most of our furniture. The new owners want to close in thirty days. Luke found a place, so we can crash on his sofa if we have to. Actually, I guess that would be our sofa. But I’m thinking we pay off our debt, put what’s left of our stuff in storage, and do a little traveling.”
I looked at my husband of almost three decades. “I’m speechless.”
I’d almost forgotten how much I loved Greg’s laugh. “Well, that’s a first,” he said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s like the messy guys won or something.”
“I’m a good winner,” Greg said. “I won’t gloat.”
I shook my head. “This would never fly on HGTV.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
I just sat there and tried to let it all sink in. My house wasn’t perfect, and neither was my life. And there’s an emotional cost to new beginnings, a scary kind of letting go and heading into the unknown that fights with the part of me that wants to believe all the world can and should be staged.
But WTF.
I held out my hand and watched my mood ring turn blue. Not the pale blue of a cloudless sky at noon. But the rich deep indigo of the ocean blending into the sky under the light of a full beach moon.
CHAPTER 40
“ACTION,” Shannon said.
Luke pushed a button on the video camera.
“Shouldn’t we make a sign for the opening credits?” I asked. “I think there’s still some poster board out in the garage.”
“Mo-om,” they said.
“Owe me a Coke,” they both said at once.
“We’ll do the titles in iMovie after we finish,” Luke said. “We can even add a theme song at the beginning.”
Greg looked up from the box he was packing. “How about Tom Rush’s ‘Remember Song’? You know, the one about not being able to remember anything? It’s got a nice Boomer vibe.”
“I think we’d have to get permission for that,” I said.
“Like he’d remember whether he gave it to you,” Greg said.
Shannon looked over at the living room clock. “Come on, you guys. Chance is waiting for me to call.”
“Yeah,” Luke said. “Raven’s going to be here in like ten minutes.”
“Okay,” I said. I gave my hair a quick fluff. “I’m Sandra Sullivan, and this is my audition tape for HGTV’s Design Star. Actually, my plan is to expand the show by creating a spin-off. I’m calling it Design Star Midlife.”
I looked straight at the camera.
“Because here’s the thing: midlife women should have their own show. We’ve been around the block a few times. We know what we want, and we’re not afraid to go after it. We’ve got great taste and the courage of our convictions. And face it, we pretty much rule the world.”
I reached for my first prop. “Which is not to say that we don’t have an Achilles’ heel.” I held up an empty gallon paint can f
illed with reading glasses. “The only thing that really sucks about midlife is that your eyes go.”
“I don’t think you should say suck, Mom,” Shannon said. “Your demographic might find it offensive.”
I let out a puff of air. “Shit. Does that mean I have to start over?”
“No,” Luke said. “We can edit it out. Just pick up where you left off.”
“Okay,” I said. “The only thing that really stinks about midlife is that your eyes go. So if my show is chosen, I mean, when my show is chosen, a part of our outreach will be to collect reading glasses through Readers for Readers. You might not know this, but the biggest obstacle to disadvantaged people over forty reentering the workplace is that they can’t afford readers.”
I looked dramatically at the camera. “You can’t fill out a job application if you can’t see it.”
I switched the paint bucket full of reading glasses for a full gallon of paint. I flipped the lid off with a flamboyant twist of a flathead screwdriver.
“Okay, here’s my first tip.” I took off a big rubber band I’d circled around my wrist like a bracelet and looped it over the paint can vertically so it bisected the opening evenly.
“Do you make a big, goopy mess every time you paint? Well, instead of wiping the excess paint on the side of the can and letting it drip down the edge and onto your drop cloth or even your freshly washed floor . . .”
I dipped a fresh paintbrush into the paint, and then ran the full length of the bristles along the taut rubber band. The excess paint dropped neatly into the center of the paint can.
I flipped my hair out of my face and smiled at the camera.
“It’s genius. Oh, and this amazing paint color? Why, that’s Million Dollar Red. Trust me, you’ll love it. Everybody does. Anyway, you’ll love my show, too. I’ll share exclusive decorating and staging tricks and tips. We’ll take a field trip to see a boutique hotel in Atlanta I just finished staging, and while we’re in the area, I’ll show you how to remove a Juliet balcony and turn it into a feature wall. And I’ll even share some footage of me packing up my own personal home and deciding what to keep and what to pawn off on my kids.”
Shannon and Luke rolled their eyes.
I ignored them. “And then you can follow my husband and me as we head off into our next chapter together.”
I gave the camera my most dazzling smile and hit it out of the park. “Buckle up, everybody—it’s going to be a wild midlife ride.”
READERS FOR READERS
Go to ClaireCook.com and click on Readers for Readers to find out how your outgrown reading glasses can help someone else find a foreseeable future.
SANDRA SULLIVAN’S
BEST STAGING TIPS
DE-CLUTTER, DE-CLUTTER, DE-CLUTTER.
You have too much stuff. Admit it. Get rid of it.
DUST, RUB, SWEEP, SCRUB.
Clean till it gleams. Make your world sparkle.
UP AGAINST THE WALL.
If that’s where your furniture is, move some of it out entirely and float the rest of it in the center of the room in cozy conversational groupings.
SHAKE IT UP. CHANGE IT OUT.
Pile some books on a table and top with a lamp. Bring in some accent pillows in vibrant colors and interesting patterns. Rotate your accessories, which are the crown jewels of your home.
LET THE SUNSHINE IN.
Ditch the heavy drapes. Think sheer, airy curtains, with privacy blinds that disappear during the daytime.
LIGHT UP YOUR LIFE.
A dark house is a depressing house, so let there be light. Add under-cabinet kitchen lights. Tuck uplights behind potted plants or hide them in corners. Increase the wattage in your lamp bulbs to make your home a brighter prospect for buyers. (Switch to energy-saving bulbs and you’ll still come out ahead on the eco front.)
MIRROR, MIRROR ON THE WALLS.
Think statement frames and bounce that light around.
WARM AND NEUTRAL IS THE WAY TO GO.
And paint is the way to get there.
DROP THOSE FRAMES.
Hanging too high is the biggest rookie mistake going. Approximately sixty to sixty-five inches from the floor to the center of the piece of art is the rule of thumb. Think how low you can go and adjust as needed.
THREE’S THE CHARM.
Three candles, three baskets, three seashells. Group your accessories in threes. If it looks too skimpy, you can up it to five, but keep it odd.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It’s a privilege to get to make up stories for a living, and in my pajamas, no less. A huge, heartfelt thank-you to the readers, booksellers, bloggers, librarians, and members of the media who have made this midlife reinvention of mine possible. I never take it, or you, for granted for a moment.
As I wrote this novel, my Facebook friends and Twitter followers generously revealed the contents of their junk drawers, suggested names for a minor character, and were always available to hang out. Whenever the going got rough, the perfect e-mail from a reader would pop into my in-box. As much as I love the gig, being an author can be isolating, and I thank you all for making it less so.
Many thanks to Ken Harvey for taking time away from his own writing to share some keen insights about this novel. Thanks to Trish Riden, Hayley Stelzer, Amber Fowler, Jill Miner, Eileen Casey, and Carolyn Burns Bass for generously providing pieces of the puzzle—whether they were aware of it or not! Thanks to my incredible extended family, plus old and new friends, for being there when I needed it.
A great big thank-you to the amazing Elisabeth Dyssegaard, whose reputation as a force is well deserved and whose arrival was pure serendipity, and to her wonderful assistant, Samantha O’Brien. Thanks to the lovely Brenda Copeland for her sharp eye and kind heart, and to her enthusiastic assistant, Kate Griffin. A special shout-out to Ellen Archer for making me feel like I have a friend in high places, and to Barbara Jones and Mindy Stockfield for being so open and encouraging. And a huge, alphabetical thank-you to the rest of the Hyperionites for their talent, support, and tenacity: Anna Campbell, Bryan Christian, Marie Coolman, Molly Frandson, Caroline Grill, Maha Khalil, Kristin Kiser, Laura Klynstra, Joan Lee, Allison McGeehon, Claire McKean, Lindsay Mergens, Karen Minster, Dana Pellegri, Shelley Perron, Mike Rotondo, Sarah Rucker, Shubhani Sarkar, Katherine Tasheff, Megan Vidulich, and Betsy Wilson.
Often the hardest part of all is figuring out which way is up, and I’m forever grateful to my incomparable literary agent, Lisa Bankoff, for never hesitating to point me in the right direction. Many thanks to Lisa’s assistant, Dan Kirschen, for his great sense of humor and unparalleled social networking support, and to ICM’s Josie Freedman, Liz Farrell, and Lindsey Dodge. A great big transatlantic thank-you to Helen Manders of Curtis Brown Group for handling my translation rights and to Sheila Crowley for jumping in on the UK front.
When it comes to family, I won the lottery. The biggest thanks of all to Jake, Garet, and Kaden.
READING GROUP GUIDE
1. Are you a Sandy? A Denise? A Melissa? What character in Best Staged Plans did you most identify with, and why?
2. Did you ever date a Josh? Did you think you’d be the one to change him? Do you still have his number?
3. According to Sandy’s daughter, Shannon, people choose the partner they think they deserve: “Otherwise they’d drop that zero and get themselves a hero.” Do you agree with Shannon?
4. Sandy wonders whether, in the code of female friendship, you’re always honor bound to let your best friend know when you think her significant other is cheating on her. What do you think? How well did Sandy handle the situation with Denise’s boyfriend?
5. What makes it harder or easier for Sandy, as a professional home stager, to get her own house ready to sell? Did you pick up any new staging tips from the book? Have you ever painted anything Million Dollar Red?
6. According to Sandy, we’ve all looked at the things in our house so long we can’t even see them anymore. What’s the ugliest thing in your h
ouse? Did you notice it after you read Best Staged Plans?
7. Is there a perfect time to downsize? When? What’s the biggest obstacle?
8. The current generation of young adults has been called the boomerang generation. Why do you think they keep coming back to the nest? How many are living in your bat cave right now?
9. Sandy sees a distinction between homelessness and temporary homelessness. Do you think most of us are only a couple of paychecks and a few bad breaks from being in the same boat as Naomi? Why or why not?
10. Lots of things drive Sandy Sullivan crazy, especially acronyms like LOL. Do acronyms drive you crazy, too? Why?
11. Having graduated from the cooking phase of her life, Sandy is all about assembling meals. What’s your favorite faux-cooked meal?
12. Sandy agonizes about her “postmom mission.” Kids or no kids, do most of us reinvent ourselves at midlife? Did Best Staged Plans trigger any thoughts about your own next chapter?
Did your book club come up with an even better question when you met to discuss Best Staged Plans? Did you serve some fabulous, thematically related food? Did you take a picture? Post them at facebook.com/ClaireCookauthorpage or Tweet them to Claire at twitter.com/ClaireCookwrite. To schedule a Skype or phone chat, visit ClaireCook.com and click on Book Clubs.
A CONVERSATION WITH
CLAIRE COOK
Q: Where did you get the idea for Best Staged Plans?
A: I didn’t! My readers did. I remember it exactly: I was rushing around trying to get some packages mailed off, and I dropped my reading glasses into one of them as I was taping it up. So I did what every modern woman would do and I posted a funny comment about it on Facebook. The response was amazing—hundreds of people jumped in with their own reading glasses stories, and then everyone started saying, “There’s your next book, Claire.” So I went with it!
