Small Change (11 page)

B
rian was at Rachel's house Friday evening before either his wife or Jess arrived, working on Rachel's minivan.

“I see you found a way to get your car fixed,” Jess said to Rachel as she walked in.

“All the thing needed was some spark plug wires,” said Rachel. “Brian's saving me a fortune. Of course, I offered to pay him but he wouldn't take anything other than cookies.”

“Bartering cookies for car repairs. Somebody sure got the good end of that deal. So, where's Tiff? I thought she'd be here by now,” Jess said, handing over a bottle of white wine. “I ran into her at Safe-way and she was all excited about some big surprise she'd bought for us.”

“Oh, no. She's spending money again?”

“In a way. She told me to bring three dollars to cover my share of whatever this is, and some gardening gloves. I left them on the porch along with a pair for you and a couple of spades.”

“Gee, thanks,” said Rachel. “Whatever she got, it had better be edible.”

Jess pointed out the living room window. “Speak of the devil.”

Rachel looked to see Tiffany coming up the walk, balancing a large cardboard container full of plants. Whatever was in the box was making it tippy. Brian was under the minivan's hood, oblivious.

“She's going to drop them,” said Jess, hurrying for the door.

They got to Tiffany just before she dumped the entire contents on the front walk. “Thanks, guys,” she said. “That was a close one.”

“Are those strawberries?” asked Rachel.

Tiffany nodded. “Kathy at the Trellis gave me a great deal. We can put them in our flower beds along with the rhubarb.”

“Strawberry and rhubarb pie,” said Rachel, her taste buds thinking ahead. “For that I'll garden. Let's get started.”

“Strawberry season around here is just about over, isn't it?” asked Jess as they trooped outside to start with Rachel's flower beds.

“Maybe that's why I got a deal,” Tiffany said with a frown as she pulled on her gloves.

“Not to worry,” said Jess. “Strawberry plants spring up every year. We'll consider this an investment in our food supply for next summer.”

“Homemade strawberry jam. Yum,” said Tiff. She was beaming again and obviously proud of her bargain find.

They had to pull a few weeds to make room for the new plants, but the evening sun was warm. The hum of a lawn mower drifted to them from down the street. It felt so idyllic. Not to mention satisfying, thought Rachel as she watered the new addition to her land-scaping.

“We'll have jam from these next summer,” she predicted as they moved on to Jess's yard.

“Too bad it's too late for this year,” said Tiff, still disappointed with her bargain.

“We can still pick berries,” said Rachel. “My friend Elsa was just telling me that she's got tons of raspberries, more than she knows what to do with. I think they'll be ready soon.”

That made Tiff smile. “So we will get jam this summer.”

“Tons,” said Rachel. “After the raspberries the blackberries will be ripe.” Rachel remembered her mother's homemade blackberry pies. The thought of home-baked goodies and a cupboard stocked with good things for winter really had her fired up now. “Then September the huckleberries should be ready to pick,” she continued, warming to her theme. “Green Mountain is only five minutes from here and I hear there are tons of wild huckleberries there. By the time we're done we can have lots of jam and liqueurs, not just for our families, but to give away as Christmas presents.”

Green Mountain was no Mount Rainier. It was really more of a foothill with no place to go, but it was the closest thing Heart Lake had to wilderness. DNR land, it consisted of woods, various wildflowers and shrubs, and trails, which made it popular with hikers and nature enthusiasts. Although Rachel wasn't much of a nature girl, she was willing to adapt if it meant free food.

“I heard there are bears up there,” Tiffany said.

“They're more afraid of you than you are of them,” Rachel assured her. She hoped she was right. She'd heard that … somewhere.

“Unless they have a cub,” said Jess dubiously.

“I don't like going out in the woods,” Tiffany said.

“We should at least give it a try,” Rachel urged.

Jess shrugged. “I'm all for stocking the pantry, especially now that I've got a live-in cook.” Tiffany stopped planting to stare at her
and Jess grinned and said, “My son. He still doesn't have a job so I've put him to work for me. Until he finds employment he is my slave.”

Rachel high-fived her. “I saw him out there today, painting the house. Way to go.”

“It's getting done slowly,” Jess said. “He's been pretty busy sending out résumés all week.”

“Sounds like things are improving at your house,” said Rachel.

“They'd be improving more if my husband found a job,” Jess said with a sigh. “Sometimes I wonder if we should have said yes to Ohio.”

“Don't even wonder,” Rachel said sternly.

Jess sighed. “If Michael can't find anything we are in deep doo-doo. We sure aren't going to make it on what I'm bringing in. Any-body know of any employment ops for a forty-something woman who plays the piano and does crafts?”

“Piano lessons?” suggested Rachel.

Jess rolled her eyes. “Oh, dear God, please no.”

“Piano teachers make good money,” Rachel pointed out.

“They should. It's torture to try and teach kids who don't want to learn.” Jess heaved an elaborate sigh. “If I was thirty I'd start a band.”

“You still could,” said Rachel, but Jess shook her head. “Okay, this will do it for me. Let's plant the rest at Tiff's place.”

“You should help me with my eBay business,” said Tiffany as they crossed the street with the last of the strawberries. “My clock went for fifty-one dollars,” she bragged. “And the figurine for thirty-eight.”

“Wow,” said Rachel. “I'm impressed.

“So is Brian,” said Tiffany.

“At this rate you'll have your charge cards paid off in no time,” Jess told her.

Tiffany nodded. “Except when the money comes I'm going to reinvest it in my business.”

Rachel wasn't so sure about that idea. “All of it?”

“I have to have things to sell,” Tiffany said.

That was hard to argue with, so the friends moved on to Rachel. “Claire and Bethany are so excited about Girl Camp,” she said once they'd settled back in her living room. “We start right after the Fourth. You know,” she added thoughtfully, “I bet I can get them to help us pick raspberries. We can all learn how to make jam together.”

The phone rang but Rachel ignored it. Other than her mother, the people who called her most were right here with her, which meant it would be for Claire. Sure enough, a couple of moments later she heard an excited squeal from her daughter.

“Somebody called with hot news,” Jess observed. “Which means there's probably a boy involved.”

A moment later, Claire was bounding into the living room, phone in hand. “It's Daddy.”

A call from Daddy was cause for squealing? Only if … Rachel took the phone with a sick feeling. “Hi, Aaron. What's up?”

“Well, we're making some vacation plans over here.”

And I'm about to outdo you.
Rachel braced herself. “And?”

“My parents really want to see the kids.”

His parents lived in New York, glamour capital of the world. Rachel quickly gave herself a good mother speech.
The children need to see their grandparents, and you can't deprive them of time with their father.

Her competitive mother side immediately chimed in.
He's doing it again. He's buying their affection, the bastard.

“We thought while we're at it we might as well take a quick jaunt down to Disneyland.”

“Because it was right on the way? Please. I see.” Girl Camp shriveled and died under the mighty shadow of Disneyland.

“Rachel, before you raise any objections, let me remind you that the children live with you,” Aaron said in his condescending Aaron voice.

“Yes, they do,” she said, forcing her voice to stay even and her features neutral.
I get to be the main caretaker and you get to pretend you care.
She was aware of her daughter hovering, her face a study in excitement and worry. Of course Rachel had to say yes, but not before she got a few things off her chest. She left the room, not wanting to spill her bitterness in front of her daughter.

Behind her, she could hear Claire's unhappy voice. “She's going to say no.”

“When are you planning to take this trip?”

“Actually I'd like to leave right before the Fourth.”

Rachel shut herself in the bathroom.

“We want to get to Disneyland for the fireworks display.”

New York, Disneyland. He could afford all kinds of expensive junkets, but he fought her tooth and nail over things like orthodontist bills. Fireworks. Well, she was about to show him some fireworks. She turned on the bathtub faucet full force to use as cover. “You are such an incredible bastard,” she hissed.

“Because I'm involved with my children? What have you been smoking?”

“Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm barely scraping by here, and do you help me at all?”

“Yes,” he said in perfect time with her
no.
“Who is footing the bill for the orthodontist? Cute move, by the way.”

“Oh, my heart is bleeding.”

“Can we please stick to the subject?” Aaron said in a pained voice.

“I am sticking to the subject,” she snarled. “Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do. You're trying to buy our children's affection. Fine time to be worrying about their affections, by the way, after you split up the family.”

“You're the one who wanted a divorce.”

“You're the one who had the affair and made me!”

“Rachel, we can't go back.”

She slumped on the side of the tub and rubbed her aching forehead. He was right, much as she hated to admit it. “Okay. Just take them.”

“I can only be gone for two weeks, but my parents want them to stay for the whole month. They don't get to see them very often.”

“That's all well and good, but when is Claire supposed to get her braces?”

“As soon as she comes back,” said Aaron. “Waiting a few more weeks won't hurt, Rach.”

Rach. When was the last time he'd called her Rach? Of course he would now, evoking memories of happier times. “Fine.” Her former in-laws would spoil the kids even more than her ex. But they were still her children's grandparents. She couldn't begrudge them time together.

“Until the end of the month then,” she said. “I want them back in August though. And if you're going to California, you have to promise to give them a couple of days in San Francisco with my mom.” What the heck? She might as well work a deal.

“I don't know if there'll be time,” Aaron hedged.

“You make time, Aaron,” she growled. “I'm not letting them go if you don't.”

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “All right.”

It was a small victory, but size didn't matter. “Good,” she said, and turned off the water. “I'll tell Mom to expect you. And I want to see the tickets and the itinerary before you go.”

“You can trust me,” he said, sounding offended.

What a joke. “That's the deal, Aaron. Good-bye.” She came out of the bathroom to find Claire lingering in the hall, looking hopeful. “Yes, you're going,” she said, and forced herself to smile as she handed back the phone.

Claire took it with a squeal and hugged her fiercely. “Thank you, thank you. You're the best mom in the whole world.” She ran down the hall, squealing all the way. The price for being the best mom in the whole world kept going up.

T
he Fourth of July weekend was garage sale heaven, which made up for the week of hell Tiffany had endured with Brian being home and grumpy. She returned from her bargain safari on the third laden with treasures to add to the piles of goodies she already had sitting in various shipping boxes in the spare room that served as Brian's home office. Not only had she taken over his office, she'd pretty much taken over the dining room, too, using her glass top dining room table as a staging area where she took pictures of her goodies before putting them up for sale.

“Good God, did you hit every house in Heart Lake?” Brian complained as he helped her lug her finds into the house.

“Just about,” she said.

A saltshaker shaped like a rabbit fell off the top of his pile and bounced on the carpet.

“Be careful,” Tiffany said, bending over to pick it up. “That's Fitz and Floyd.”

He set a pile of lingerie and plates on the table. A black
nightgown caught his attention. “You're selling this?” He sounded disappointed.

“ ‘Maybe,” she said slyly. “Or I might keep it.”

“Keep it.”

Heaven knew their sex life could use a boost. She moved the nightgown off the to-be-sold pile.

With raised eyebrows, he held up a Christmas plate. “Who's going to buy this in July?”

She took it from him and set it back down on the table. “No one, silly. But it will sell like crazy in November.”

“Speaking of selling, what's been happening to the money from the stuff you already sold? I thought that was going to go to pay down the credit cards.”

Tiffany added a pink quartz beaded necklace to her keeper pile. Now that she thought of it, the necklace probably wouldn't sell anyway. “I'm going to. But I have to build my business first.”

Brian looked at all the items spilled across the table. “Uh, I think you've got enough to sell between this and all the junk in my office. There's barely room for me in there now.”

“It's not junk. And yes, once these go, I'm going to have a big, fat wad of money.”

Well, hopefully. Some of her items had been sitting around like eBay wallflowers, with no bids and no watchers. She wasn't going to tell Brian that, though. He'd say she was wasting money they didn't have and tell her to quit, and she had no intention of quitting. Even with the wallflowers this was a great way to earn money. She got as big a buzz watching her bids go up as she got when she was bargain hunting. And, talk about bargains—she'd found some great things for herself on eBay. That probably had something to do with why
she wasn't turning a profit more quickly. But she was saving a fortune staying out of the stores. Talk about willpower.

Brian shook his head. “If you ask me, this looks like one more way to get deeper in debt.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded. Here she'd found a creative way to earn extra money and he was dissing it.

“How much of the money you've made has gone to pay down those credit cards?”

“I'm getting them paid down,” she hedged.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I am!”

Brian just shook his head and walked away.

“Where are you going?” she called after him. “I thought we were going to the car show.”

“You go,” he called over his shoulder. “I'm not in the mood.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “And I'm not in the mood to keep the nightgown.”

“Whatever,” came his disembodied voice.

Tiffany threw the nightgown on the to-be-sold pile. Her husband was an ingrate and it would be a long time before he saw her in anything sexy.