The Sleeping Beauty Proposal

by Sarah Strohmeyer

  And with that, the meeting’s over. When I get up, I find I’ve left two sweaty butt marks on my chair.

  Kevin stops me at the door. He’s so short, I can look down and see the prematurely gray hairs on the top of his head. “I’m going to miss you, Genie.”

  “Thanks, Kevin. I’ll miss you, too.” Though I won’t, as Kevin treated me like a puppy that required training.

  “I’ll put in a good word for you to replace me. That’ll count for a lot. Bill trusts my counsel.”

  Kevin relishes his role as Bill’s right-hand man. I bet he’ll miss that when he moves to Bowdoin and finds he’s back to being part of the herd.

  “Logically, Connie has to be Bill’s first choice. She’s been here longer than you and, hmmm, how to say this?” He furrows his brows. “She tends to be more professional. Admissions is more than a job for her. It’s a career, a calling.You’d do well to remember that in future.”

  In future. How pretentious. Of course Connie will get Kevin’s job. She was supposed to get it before he got it, but then Bill decided he needed a right-hand man, not right-hand woman, to attract the much-coveted male students and, so, she was passed over with the promise she’d be next.

  Then she stole Hugh.

  “Well?” says Alice, sidling up. “What do you think Connie’s going to do now?”

  “Get everything she ever wanted,” I say sourly.

  “What?” Alice rushes to catch up with me in the hall. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.What do you think she’s going to do?”

  “Cut her trip short and rush home to claw and scratch her way into Kevin’s office. Bad enough you got that rock on your finger.Wait until she finds out that Bill announced an opening for assistant director of admissions and she wasn’t here. She’s gonna go mental.”

  I stand by my door and watch as Alice takes out her master key, unlocks Connie’s door, and deposits the memos from today’s meeting on her desk. When she leaves, she doesn’t bother to lock up, leaving Connie’s office temptingly open. I enter for just a bit and consider peeking in her desk, searching for clues about Hugh. A picture of them on the beach. His phone number on her speed dial. Extra-large condoms. (Hugh insists he needs them.)

  No. I have crossed many lines lately, but this one I definitely must not overstep.

  Taking a deep breath, I return to my own office, locking the door securely behind me lest I am struck by a sudden urge to fling it open and run to Connie’s.

  There is a flash of red behind my desk. The roses. Might as well get to the next bit of bad news. I slide open the envelope and remove the card.

  Genie:

  Meet me at Sussex Bank at 4:30 if you still want to split the house.

  What I did, I did for you.

  Nick

  Which is when I notice that the roses are not any old roses. They’re Mr. Lincolns and they’re in a root-ball. They’re not cut; they’re supposed to be planted. Planted on Peabody Road.

  Wow.

  Chapter Twenty

  As my father would say, "This is highly irregular.”

  That’s all I can think as Tina, a mortgage processor who also happens to be Todd’s ex-girlfriend, slides me a set of legal documents, all of which have been meticulously crafted by none other than my very own Patty Pugliese. No wonder she refused to get down on Nick— or break her lawyer-client confidentiality. At Nick’s request, she was secretly drawing up papers so I could buy half of my dream house.

  “It’s a condo agreement,”Tina explains, tapping the top sheet with her hard pink acrylic nail.“Nick Spanadopolous will own the upstairs apartment and the outside of the entire structure, including any outbuildings or a garage.You would purchase the ground-floor unit.”

  I know all this, but by some absurd bank stipulation, she has to go over the basics with me again.

  “Per the agreement,” Tina continues, “Nick has promised to finish the kitchen and the bathroom. In return, you pay the taxes on the entire property for two years. Do you agree?”

  "I agree,” I practically shout. “Oh, man, do I agree.”

  “Then sign at the Xs.” She points out all the highlighted Xs and I sign merrily away, not reading one word of what I’m legally committing myself to.

  This is all so stunning, I haven’t even been able to absorb it. I’m finally buying my dream house. Well, not all of it, but that’s okay because look! The purchase price is $250,000 and I don’t even need my parents’ money. Or, at least, much of it. Just enough to add to my savings for a down payment.

  Somehow Nick got together the cash total, bought the property, and now we’re refinancing. My monthly mortgage payment will be slightly more than my rent. And then there’s the advantage of a tax break when I write off the interest every year.

  Also, there’s the advantage of Nick living on top of me. Well, not on top of me. In the apartment above.

  “What about the title search and all that?” I ask.

  “Done. However, you’ll need to put down forty thousand dollars, twenty percent, in order to get this low monthly fee.” Tina shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “I guess your father’s been involved because there’s a note here that he’s prepared to co-sign if necessary.You got the dough?”

  “I do.”

  It’s weird that Dad knows about Nick’s house deal.Why didn’t he say something? Though I’m not complaining. Compared to the huge sum Mom and Dad gave Lucy and Jason, my request for $20,000 is almost saintly.

  Tina is stamping and initialing things, moving the paperwork right along with nifty efficiency. She’s a woman who has done everything possible to make herself pretty despite her Clairol-colored eggplant hair. She also seems to have developed a personal relationship with Neutrogena spray-on tan. At least I hope it’s spray-on tan because anyone this brown should have a dermatologist on retainer.

  As she staples and clips papers together she says, “So, your dad tells me you’re getting married. Is that the ring?”

  “Sure is.” Confidently, because I’m fairly certain Tina is not a certified gemologist or a Hellenic metallurgist, I thrust out my hand for her review.

  She exhales a satisfying whistle. “That’s gorgeous. Looks almost like one I bought down at Revere Beach for twelve bucks. Though that was cubic zirconia, of course.” She laughs.

  I laugh, too.Twelve bucks! I was ripped off.

  “I was sure Todd would be the next Michaels to get hitched.”

  “Not Todd. He’ll never marry. He’s a confirmed bachelor.”

  “That’s what all bachelors say. Next thing you know, you’re bumping into them at Target, where they’re buying a thousand dollars’ worth of playground equipment.” Putting the papers aside, she clasps her unnaturally dark hands and gets down to business. “Okay, so what’s the deal with this Nick guy? Is he hot or what?”

  “You met him already?”

  “Sure. He’s been in the bank all week and he’s not exactly the kind of guy women ignore, if you know what I mean.”

  Irrationally, I take pride in Tina’s compliment, as if Nick belongs to me. This is setting a dangerous precedent. I have to keep in mind that we’re merely neighbors, nothing more. Business partners. Platonic acquaintances.

  “He’s also a very nice guy,” I add prudishly. "Smart, too.”

  "Oh, I bet he is.Then again, you’re one of those brainy women. You know, the kind who falls in love with a guy’s mind instead of his ass.”

  “That’s not true.” As soon as I say this, I realize how wrong Tina is. Well, I’m not necessarily big on ass, per se, but I enjoy a well-built man as much as the next woman. (Though probably not as much as Patty, who enjoys well-built men a bit too much.) Anyway, who’s to say just because a man has a great ass means he can’t have a deep soul as well?

  Tina says, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that Nick of yours has one fine caboose.”

  “Done signing papers?”

  Nick is standing over us, smiling. I swear he knows exac
tly what we’ve been talking about.

  "Done,” Tina says, pushing back her chair. “I just have to run these upstairs and I’ll be right back.” As she passes by, she makes a big show of pretending to check the wall clock.

  She is so transparent.

  “Well,” says Nick, sitting his coveted ass in the chair next to me. “I hope I wasn’t too presumptuous circumventing the real estate agent and going straight to Cecily. It was the only way I could think of to ensure our house didn’t fall into the hands of crack dealers.”

  He called it our house.

  “You weren’t presumptuous, you were brilliant.” I just noticed he’s model-grade handsome in that leather bomber jacket and now I’ve forgotten what I was trying to say. Oh, right. "It was so thoughtful and considerate of you to keep me in mind—right down to the roses.”

  “It was a pleasure.”

  “It was? Even putting up with Cecily?”

  Nick gives me a puzzled look and it occurs to me that maybe his tête-à-tête at the bookstore cafe with Cecily wasn’t all business. Maybe they’re seeing each other romantically.

  “Unless you two really are an item,”I add quickly.“In which case, I have to say she is a stunning woman with a splendid personality.”

  He grins slowly. "No, Genie. Cecily and I are not, as you say, an item.”

  “Then your meeting at the bookstore . . .”

  “Strictly to discuss the house.” Though, the way he says this leads me to believe that perhaps he is being a gentleman and not confiding that while all he wanted was the house, Cecily wanted more.

  “Speaking of love interests,” he says, casually grazing my knee with his hand. “How’s Hugh taking the news that you bought a place he hasn’t seen?”

  His eyes aren’t dark blue; they’re brown. That is so weird. I’ve never seen eyes that change color before. Green to blue, sure. But not blue to brown. “Are you wearing contacts?”

  “What?” He shakes his head. “No. Did you hear what I said?”

  “Uh-huh. Maybe it’s the leather jacket that turns the color of your eyes.”

  “Genie.You’re avoiding my question.You did tell him, right? Hugh does know about the house?”

  “Yup.”

  “You’re one hundred percent positive Hugh’s cool with this? Because I don’t want to get in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel.You guys have been going out for four years and I’d hate to think a stupid condo could screw things up.”

  “Won’t screw.” Wait. “I mean, it’ll be fine. Hugh loves the house.”

  Tina’s back and from the look on her face there’s trouble. “Charles Denkins, the head of mortgages, would like to meet you, Mr. Spanadopolous.”

  Nick, who has gone from Nick to “Mr. Spanadopolous” in a matter of minutes, doesn’t seem at all concerned he’s being called in to the head of mortgages.

  “Not me, too?” I ask, feeling left out.

  “Maybe later, Genie,” Tina says. “There’s some, um, history in Mr. Spanadopolous’s background that Mr. Denkins would like to discuss.”

  That sounds ominous. Drug charge? Bench warrant? Maybe a tryst with the former Mrs. Denkins, a woman my father described as Belmont’s answer to Brigitte Bardot, only African American and not French.

  “Don’t worry,” says Nick, getting up. “I’m used to it.”

  So he’s used to being a felon and an adulterer. Super. I suppose I could call my father in, if it comes to that, but I really hate to pull strings. I’m a big girl now—as everyone keeps telling me these days.

  With Nick off to explain his rap sheet, this is my opportunity to call Mom and squeal about the house. It’s so exciting!

  She answers right away. "Hi, honey.” She must pull up a chair by the phone and sit there until it rings. “We were just talking about you.”

  “We?”

  “Your dad and I.We have big news.”

  “Let me guess.Tula Abernathy is adding crab to the dip.”

  “Funny you should mention Tula. Her name came up, too. She’s set a date for your engagement party. August third.”

  “I don’t know, Mom. Hugh might not be back by then.”

  “Not to worry. Hugh can make it. In fact, he’s looking forward to it.”

  Hold on. I have to sit up and take a closer look. Nick and Clay McDonald, the bank president, are walking side by side down the marble hall together.They appear to be joking, shaking hands. Clay McDonald is practically salivating all over Nick.What gives?

  Did she just say Hugh was looking forward to our engagement party?

  “What was that about Hugh?” I ask.

  “He’s thrilled about the party. He’s really very honored that Tula’s putting on the dog for you two.”

  That pain shoots up my arm again. I feel faint and dizzy. "You called him?”

  “No.You told me not to, remember?”

  Thank God in heaven. If she had called him . . .

  “Your father ran into him a few minutes ago.”

  Upon hearing these words, my heart literally leaps out of my chest. I almost expect to see it beating at my feet. “Where?”

  “On the doorstep of your apartment. Dad was driving by on his way home from work and there was Hugh ringing your doorbell. You should give the boy a key, Genie. He’s your fiancé, for heaven’s sake.”

  “HUGH!” I jump out of my seat, practically knocking over Tina’s candy bowl. “HUGH SHOWED UP AT MY APARTMENT? ”

  Funny how easily sound bounces off granite walls.Tina is staring at me wide-eyed and Clay McDonald, too. Nick . . . I can’t even make eye contact.

  This cannot be happening. Hugh cannot be here in Boston. His e-mail to Steve said next week—not this week.

  “Oh,” Mom moans. “It was supposed to be a surprise and I ruined it, didn’t I? Hugh told Dad it was a surprise and Dad, naturally, let it slip his mind. Men are so clueless about things like surprises. I was just so tickled because Dad did remember to make sure Hugh knew about the engagement party.”

  Okay. Hugh’s in town and Dad invited him to the engagement party. Scratch that. Our engagement party.This after I’ve hinted in an e-mail to Hugh that while I might be engaged, I’m not necessarily engaged to him.

  Which was probably why he was at my door, curious to know who, exactly, could replace him. Though there’s no doubt now, is there? I mean, now that my father has told Hugh point-blank that not only are we getting married but that Tula Abernathy, Belmont socialite, possible murderess, is throwing us a blowout bash.

  “Everything okay?” Nick asks, hands in his pockets.

  “Fine.” My phone clicks shut.

  “Sounds like Hugh’s back in town.”

  Quickly, I search through the papers on Tina’s desk for my copy. "Yes. It was supposed to be a surprise.When can I move into my new house?”

  “Hugh eager to settle in, is he?”

  “Not Hugh, me. So when?”

  Nick frowns as he calculates the work to be done. “Let’s see. The kitchen needs to be finished and there’s no bathtub or shower.” He shrugs. “I dunno.Three weeks maybe. Four weeks tops.”

  “In other words, tonight. Great. See you then,” I shout, rushing out the door and heading home to make a fast escape.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  "I don’t see why you have to pack up this apartment you’ve been living in for fifteen years and move out overnight,” Patty asks.

  “Because Hugh’s back in town and he showed up on my doorstep.”

  “So?”

  “So, if he showed up once, he’ll do it again. And the next time he’ll bring Connie, just to rub my face in it.”

  “You want I should take her out?” Patty looks up from her box of plates. “No marks. My people don’t leave evidence.”

  Someday I’d like to meet Patty’s people. Or, on second thought, not.

  I stuff one more sheet into the garbage bag. Filling garbage bags with linens is not the tidiest of methods of relocation. (Nancy Michaels would be shocked
!) But I’m not going for tidy. I’m going for fast.

  The good news is that my landlord, Mr. Collins, was initially going to give me a hard time about moving out since I recently renewed my lease. As ammunition, he brought out my contract and pointed to where I had agreed to find a sub-tenant should I have to leave before my term was up. (Who reads the fine print on those leases, anyway?)

  So I pointed to where he was supposed to remove all vermin and hadn’t. (Mice.They live in my stove and Jorge does nothing to stop them. Just sits and watches them like they’re kitty TV.) Which was when Mr. Collins saw my ring.

  After that, it was hunky-dory. He was overjoyed that I was getting married after living in his apartment for nearly two decades. Kept saying he thought it would never happen, that I would end up in a nunnery, et cetera, et cetera. As a wedding gift, he ripped up my lease and brought out a can of Tab to toast.

  It’s amazing, the awesomeness of that ring. Has the power to destroy leases and produce really bad diet soda.

  Patty wraps a plate in newspaper and slides it into a box.Then she takes another sip of wine.This has been her snail-like process. Pack. Sip. Pack. Sip. At her rate, I’m not only going to be hauling a bed, a bureau, a couch, several appliances (including my crappy Rite Aid coffeemaker), but also a midget drunk.

  After she closes and tapes the box, she dumps it rather carelessly by the door.Then she spends a great deal of time looking out the window for Todd or Hugh, whoever should come first.

  Todd has promised to help move my bed and couch into Peabody Road so I can sleep there tonight. If only the evening were ten degrees cooler. I have completely pitted out my sleeveless white shirt. Even my hair is sweating.

  Taking a break, I pour myself a glass of wine and add an ice cube. Then, dumping some salsa into a bowl, I carry that and a pack of fat-free baked chips to the tiny front porch where Patty is sitting, her arms around her knees, on Hugh patrol.

  “How’s the engagement going?” I ask, setting down the bowl and the chips.

  “Fantastic. I’m almost done registering. Just in time for the party.”