Book Read Free

Time to Control

Page 10

by Marie Pinkerton


  The half sized bookcases would fit nicely under the railing, and we wrote down to get two of them when we got to the self-serve section of the store. We marked down to get three of the full sized ones for the wall. We had to guess – we didn't know how many would fit, but three seemed about right. We had to hold the slipcover up to the different colors of wood to choose what stain we would use, and go back for a different slipcover. I liked the dark brown wood the best, and it simply didn't go with the dark brown fabric. Had to go with a light tan instead.

  I looked for additional throw pillows and a throw blanket for the bed, but didn't see anything I liked. The list of “find elsewhere” was getting larger and larger, and I didn't know where to go after here. Eddie said he had an idea, but wouldn't share.

  The kitchen table was the easiest and least dramatic. Sturdy, square, dark wood. Four matching chairs. Bingo.

  We got through the rest of IKEA rather quickly, especially since Eddie wouldn't let me buy most of what I would have bought here. He took one look at the kitchen goods, and said we were going to Williams Sonoma instead. I have to admit; I didn't fight too hard on this one. I loved looking in Williams Sonoma, but since it was out of my price range, never bought anything there.

  Eddie was surprised that I passed up the towels and linens in the store. I said I preferred the products at Kohl's, and he was buying that at first. Then he had to ask what Kohl's was, and finding out it was the department store near where we shopped earlier, that wasn't nice enough.

  "You're starting to act like my parents," I warned him.

  "Once you've had thousand count sheets, you won't go back," he promised me.

  If it was a quality decision, I could stand behind that. My parents went with the concept of "if we had to pay more, it was a better product". That didn't always mean that the quality was higher; in fact, that often led to cheaper products overall.

  Eddie turned his nose up at the dinnerware, saying we could get better stuff at Williams Sonoma. I was getting tired of not getting what I wanted, though.

  “Fine, but I'm getting silverware here.” I headed straight to the display.

  “You don't need to get it here to prove a point to me.”

  “I like this silverware. It's plain; no stupid flowers or patterns. And it's thick enough to not bend when you scoop out ice cream.” I grabbed two sets, and dared Eddie to take them out of the cart. He backed down.

  Putting the self-serve items on the cart was always the hardest step for me. I was never an athlete. Eddie, though, could fling the hundred pound boxes around without a problem.

  When we were told the wait for delivery was three weeks, Eddie asked to speak to a manager. Apparently delivery is same day if you tip enough.

  At this point, I was getting glad they were doing the delivery. I was tired, darn it. I just wanted to go back to the hotel and take a long, relaxing bath with the romance that I had barely cracked the cover on, and go to sleep. Instead, we had to drive all the way back to the townhome and wait for the delivery truck to come in the next few hours. We carried to the car the contents of our laden shopping cart, which thankfully included lamps; I hadn't remembered seeing overhead lights in any room other than the kitchen. That'd make unloading rather dark.

  "Oh, crap, utilities," I moaned, only now figuring out that we hadn't gotten those switched on.

  "Already taken care of," Eddie assured me on the utilities.

  "Already? When did you do that?"

  "Mike took care of it for us."

  "Eddie, you can't just throw money at everyone to have them move you to the front of the line, or make them do things outside their job description." I tried to keep my voice level when I said this, but I was starting to get aggravated at the 'rich man' mentality.

  "Chill, Schroeder. I know that," he snapped back at me. I guess he was getting as cranky as I was. "It's one of the standard services the complex does. It was part of the paperwork I filled out while you were staring out the window."

  "Oh." I stared out another window so he couldn't see my flushed face.

  He squeezed my knee to let me know he wasn't upset with me, and I squeezed his hand in return.

  I insisted that we had enough time to make a quick run into Kroger's, and picked up light bulbs, toilet paper, soap, snacks, and sodas. After a second thought, I went back for laundry detergent and fabric softener – I hadn't gotten that many new clothes. After we got kitchen stuff I'd do the stock up trip, but for now, I wanted to have something to get by with.

  “Well come on, let's get started,” Eddie said, tearing into the first box.

  “No.” I took the coffee table out of his hands. “Tomorrow. I'm too tired tonight.”

  “Aww, come on, it'll be fun.”

  “And you're doing it without any organization,” I told him. “You're going to lose pieces the way you're attacking this. And we really should be putting the dining room chairs together first, so we have something to sit on. And don't throw away those directions, you'll need those.”

  “Pshaw. I've done this before.” He waved the instructions away with a flick of his hand.

  I stared at him. “Fine. A contest, then, if you will. We each do a kitchen chair. He or she that does not have any pieces left over, and the chair is put together properly, and the chair doesn't wobble or anything, wins. That person decides the course of the evening.” I have this in the bag, I thought.

  “Deal.” His dimples were so cute, I had to kiss one. That got us sidetracked for a few minutes.

  “So you still want to put things together, or do you want to go back to the hotel?” I realized what I said, then backtracked hurriedly. “Wait, that came out wrong.”

  Eddie roared with laughter. He gathered me back up in his arms and hugged me tight. “We can go back to the hotel.”

  We ended up going to Neiman-Marcus for furniture instead, and scheduled delivery for the next morning. We took fabric samples with us to the local home improvement store, and grabbed some paint to do the rooms before we had all the furniture set up. Since Eddie was buying, I had no problems going with the expensive one-coat paint. Besides, that way we would have less to do.

  The weather was warm and dry, so not only were we able to paint the rooms on Saturday, but set out the unfinished IKEA furniture in the garage with stain to set. There was a near disaster with me on top of the ladder in the living room, which quickly got Eddie in charge of doing the top part of the rooms. I didn't mind; I wasn't a fan of heights anyway. We left the windows open so when we returned Sunday morning the place would be dry.

  Eddie and I put another coat of stain on the wood while waiting for the furniture to arrive. It finally came right at the end of the delivery window, which made me wonder when it would have been delivered if Eddie hadn't tipped extra ahead of time. Rather scary.

  “Ready to do more shopping?” Eddie asked me after we finished staining the last piece.

  “Sure. Swing by the hotel and get cleaned up first?”

  “Nah, you look beautiful just as you are,” he said, giving me a kiss.

  “I was more meaning the paint stained clothing.” I gestured to the reds, greens, and browns on his jeans and my sweats.

  “They'll take money from us same as if we were in suits,” he assured me.

  The shopkeepers were fine taking our money, but I still felt awkward walking around the Galleria in paint stained sweats. I would have felt under-dressed in one of my new skirts. The Galleria was full of stores completely in Eddie's price range, not mine. It did have the closest Williams Sonoma, which is what we were there for anyway.

  Williams Sonoma is not really designed with a shopping spree in mind. The aisles – what few they have – are narrow, and there's no carts to put goods in. Even the registers don't have much space to put things down on. We ended up making a lot of trips up to the register to deposit pots, pans, the only dish pattern we could agree on, dish towels, gadgets, and utensils. I let the sales lady talk me into an expensive set of knives
, which I always wanted but never could afford. It wasn't hard for me to talk me into them.

  Eddie even let me splurge on foodstuffs from there. I didn't know if I'd ever eat some of them, but the packaging was so pretty. Worst comes to worst, it was decorations for the kitchen.

  We ended up making three trips to the car to carry it all out. It might have taken less, but there was a lot of heavy items, and Eddie took pity on me and carried them himself. The trip from the driveway into the house was shorter, of course, and I do think I held my own in carrying stuff inside. I was greatly looking forward to testing my new bathtub.

  “Hey! That's a five thousand dollar couch. Don't even think of sitting on there in those filthy clothes!”

  Eddie looked at me pointedly from where he had sprawled, and made sure I saw him cross his legs and stick his sneakers on the fabric.

  I walked over without a word, and picked his legs up and dropped them on the floor. I walked around the back of the couch, heading towards the bathroom, and he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me over the couch and on top of him.

  “Hey!” I said again, but stopped protesting when he started kissing me. I shifted my arms to support me, resting my hands against Eddie's head. My fingers ran through his dark hair, pulling and tugging at him to move his head how I wanted to for better kissing. I wiggled my hips, and he took the hint and uncrossed his legs so that mine could be more comfortable.

  Eddie ran his hands up and down my back, and I responded by running my fingertips along his neck. He shivered, and I giggled.

  “No giggling,” he told me, bringing his hands under my t-shirt to tickle me. Of course, that had the opposite reaction, and I squirmed to make him stop. He enjoyed the squirming, which I think was the point of the tickling.

  I started kissing him again to distract him and keep him from tickling me more. It worked.

  Eddie kept his hands under my shirt, and I didn't mind. My position on top of him wasn't great to give me much to do with my hands, so I just kept them where they were.

  Eddie found something else to do with his hands. He brought his right hand down to tease my waistband, and slid under it. I groaned in pleasure, but didn't stop him; I was getting lost in the sensations. Eddie moved his hand around in between us, and touched me, and I immediately spasmed, losing control.

  Chapter Six

  Eddie had not only bought his own ticket for the trip to visit my parents, but upgraded my ticket so we could sit together in first class. “Dad never gets me first class,” I gushed, settling back in the larger seat.

  “Do you not buy your own tickets?” He asked with a chuckle.

  “Rarely,” I answered honestly. “The only place I ever fly is back to Atlanta to visit them, and they are usually so desperate to see me that they pay for the ticket. Besides, Dad travels a lot for his job, so he gets a fair amount of frequent flier miles. And besides, who pays for First Class?”

  “I do.” He kissed my forehead, and I wondered if the bathrooms were bigger in first class. I was always fascinated by the concept of joining the Mile High club, but always wondered about the logistics.

  “Peanut!” My dad came to give me a hug. “I'm glad you're all right.” I hugged him back, then stepped back to introduce him.

  “Eddie, this is my dad, Will Kelly. Dad, this is Edward Valenti-Kirby.” Dad looked at Eddie appraisingly.

  “It's good to meet you, sir,” Eddie said, holding out his hand. After a minute, in which Eddie didn't flinch or pull back his hand, Dad shook it.

  “Call me Will.”

  “Eddie.”

  Chests all thumped, Eddie tossed the bags into the open trunk of the sedan, and climbed into the backseat. I contemplated getting into the back with him, but didn't think that would fly. I got in the front instead.

  “So what do you do for a living?” Dad challenged Eddie, glancing back in the rear view.

  “Technology consulting. I investigate how an IT department works, is run by management, examine their code, make sure their security is in place, and make sure the personnel are qualified. What specifically I look for depends on why I was called in. Usually I'm called in as part of a merger or acquisition.”

  “Remember how I told you why I was going to New York? That's what Eddie does.”

  “That pay well?”

  “I am extremely well compensated for my time, sir.”

  Dad grunted, satisfied.

  I managed to keep my parents distracted until dinner, when I couldn't put off telling them the news any longer. We had gone out to eat at an expensive local restaurant, Dad wanting to impress Eddie. When everyone had a glass of wine, I met Eddie's eyes across the table, and he nodded. I took a deep breath.

  “Mom, Dad, we have something to tell you. Eddie and I eloped.” Dad immediately turned to glare at Eddie for not asking him first. Mom immediately burst into tears.

  “My baby got married and I didn't see it!”

  “Oh, Mom!” I sighed. To distract my mother from the tears, I held out my left hand for the requisite ring inspection. Mom gasped, forgetting that she was crying. At times, dealing with her like she was a child or animal worked well – saved me on grief and drama. Dad even was impressed when he got a look at the ring.

  “That must of cost a pretty penny.”

  “Your daughter is worth every cent,” Eddie responded smoothly. I smiled at him.

  “Schroeder, you never told us you were seeing anyone seriously,” Mom finally figured out. “I didn't realize that you were dating again after Roger.”

  Eddie mouthed the name across the table to me, but I shook my head. That was a discussion better left until much, much later. Like maybe never.

  “How long have you known each other?” Dad asked, suspicious.

  I crossed my fingers under the table, and told the story we concocted. Dad wasn't happy, but Mom was nodding approval. Good, maybe she could convince Dad it's okay.

  “So when's the post-wedding reception party?” Mom said, getting into the wedding planning mentality as the salads came.

  “Um.” I hadn't thought about that. Of course they would want to throw a party to show Eddie off to all of their friends. I threw out a number. “How about in two months? That'd get us past some big projects at work.” Dad approved on this one, but Mom didn't.

  “There's no way I can have it planned by then!”

  “Mom, I can take care of the planning,” I assured her.

  “But we need to get the reception hall, and caterers, and a dress, and a cake, and --”

  “Lizzie, back off. Women,” Dad said to Eddie as an aside.

  “But it'll be easier for me to plan since I'm here.”

  I looked at Eddie in a panic. “Mom, you just brought this up. We haven't had time to talk, much less choose a location yet.”

  “Well of course you'll have it here, it's home.”

  “We're looking into a bunch of options,” Eddie interjected, trying to diffuse the situation. “There's here, Dallas, New York, my parents home in Connecticut, and there's also exotic locations as well.” I looked at him in surprise. We hadn't talked about it at all, but it sounded like he had thought of throwing a party for our family and friends to celebrate with us. Even though most couples in our situation threw their reception at home, now that he mentioned it, having it overseas was something he could afford, and I would love every minute of that.

  “Exotic?” Dad asked.

  “Sure. A castle in Spain, a village in Ireland, a villa in Italy. There's lots of options.”

  “How would you expect everyone to get there?” Dad challenged. “That's awful expensive, and rather rude to your guests.”

  “Dad--”

  “Sir, it is more than within my budget to fly the guests over.”

  That seemed to irk my father even more. “She's our daughter, and we'll pay for her reception ourselves. Since you've already denied me the opportunity to pay for her wedding, or give her away.”

  “Dad, you're making a scene,
” I clenched my teeth. “Eddie and I appreciate the gesture, but we are willing and able to pay for it. A great wedding present from you would be understanding that.” I stared him down, trying not to flinch. Dad finally backed down.

  “We'll talk about it later.”

  With him, later was never. That was his way of ending arguments with my mother and me growing up. He'd say we'd finish the discussion at another time, but would never get around to it. Whatever the last decision on the issue was, that would win. I was glad Eddie and I had won this one.

  “So this is your room, huh?” Eddie chuckled as he put my bag down and looked around.

  “Hey, it could be worse,” I protested. Sure, the four poster iron twin bed still had the white lace canopy on it. And the dresser and matching desk had daisies painted on them. But at least the pictures tore out of Tiger Beat no longer hung on the walls. The faded off-white paint was still marked from the years of tape though.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make fun of you,” Eddie apologized, taking me in his arms for a kiss.

  “Mmm. Not quite ready to forgive you yet.”

  He pushed me, and I fell back on the bed, giggling. He landed on top of me, continuing to kiss me.

  A throat cleared in the open doorway, and Eddie and I separated like caught teenagers. “Towels are in the bathroom, and the guest bed is made for Eddie,” Mom said, making it clear that we would not be sleeping together under her roof, married or not.

  “Absolutely, Mom,” I promised, giving my mother a kiss goodnight.

  Mom trapped me in a hug. “Don't be pressured into a marriage if you're not ready,” she whispered.

  “I'm not, Mom. I love him, and can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him.”

  “As long as you're happy.”

  “I am,” I assured her.

  I closed the door behind my mother's retreating back, and locked it. “Now where were we?”

  The next morning, before sitting down to breakfast with my parents (another meal I was dreading, but not as much as dinner the night before), Eddie and I did our now normal trip to Elizabethan London. It was a good thing my parents didn't look in our suitcases – I had no clue how to explain our vintage garb.

 

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