“Of course.” The poor woman looked genuinely embarrassed to have made such an error. “Dr. Peterson. A pleasure. Let me just grab the key and we’ll head inside.”
The Realtor walked up the gargantuan steps to the similarly gargantuan front door and began fiddling with the lockbox. Arthur pulled Wren aside for a word.
“What are you doing? I don’t like the side of you that lies so easily.”
“I didn’t say youwerea doctor, I said you like it when peoplecall youdoctor. And, to be fair, you’ve never once told me that you don’t.”
“Wren—”
“OK, look,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to get us into a whole situation. But you should have heard the way she talked to me on the phone. So deferential and respectful and just…kind. She rearranged her whole day to help us because she thinks we’re important.”
“What she thinks is she can make a juicy commission off of us. Don’t you think she’s gonna be pissed when she finds out?” Not only could they not remotely afford this house; Arthur realized he probably wouldn’t even be qualified to work for the kind of person who could, even as their lowly assistant. How sad was that?
“I just, argh,” Wren grunted, some pent-up frustration leaking out of her. “Arthur, I’m sick of being coupon people.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like the way waiters roll their eyes at us and do that impatient little sigh when we pull out our coupons. I hate that.”
“So? I don’t get it.”
“People are always looking at us and assuming. Assuming we don’t know anything about wine or culture or travel.”
“We don’t know about any of those things.”
“That’s the worst part! That they’re actually right. We don’t know anything, because we haven’t lived. Not really.”
“Well, we don’t come from old money,” he said, feeling defensive. His parents had been somewhat well-off, but never anything close to this, and they’d earned it all themselves. Which is what he wanted to do, too, even though they’d offered on many occasions to make things easier on him. “So we’re young and broke, earning our way up.”
He wasn’t sure he even really believed that. Wren certainly didn’t. “We’re not that young.”
Arthur knew what she meant. He wasn’t ever embarrassed about being thrifty, but sometimes he was embarrassed that they’d had to be. It was particularly bad going out with Tristan and Charlie, who seemed to have more money than they even knew what to do with. Tristan had once invited Arthur golfing with him and his buddies, as a gesture to score points with Charlie. But Arthur didn’t have the right clothes, the right shoes, the right kind of sunglasses and hat. People kept assuming he worked there and handing him dirty balls to exchange for new ones, asking him to fetch them a fresh drink. It was miserable. On the plus side, he made a lot of good tips that day.
He and Wren had bickered about it before. Because he was always the one saying no. No to Ubering when he was happy to DD, no to a celebratory dinner when he was more than happy to cook, no to expensive new bedding when theAmazon’s Choice brand had good reviews and was basically the same thing. It was exhausting, the back-and-forth, all the little decisions. And he hated always being the stick-in-the-mud, the bad guy, but he was doing it specifically for this very moment in their lives. Because he knew what they’d be up against when they struck out on their own as a proper family, and he wanted to be as prepared as possible.
“So can we just pretend, for now? And get through this without humiliating ourselves?” she asked. “It feels goddamn amazing when people think you’re rich.”
“But owning a home is on my bucket list. You said we had to try, and I can pretend to be Dr. Peterson, but I can’t pretend to pull three million dollars out of my ass.”
“OK,” Wren said, wheels turning in her head. “We’ll find a way to let her down easy. Take a quick look, then tell her we think it’s too big for us after all, and could she maybe show us something a little more modest. Yeah?”
Why couldn’t they just come clean, tell this woman the truth? But as he thought about it, played the scenario out in his mind, he realized Wren was right. It would be absolutely humiliating. Like forgetting your wallet at a restaurant and having to wash dishes in the back as penance, while the sneering manager looked on, and all the other happy couples on anniversary dates watched as you were walked to the back like a scolded child. If such a thing ever actually happened in real life. It would be the look on the woman’s face as she processed the information. How he would be able toseeher opinion of them fall instantly, their value plummeting. Arthur hated lying, but he was pretty sure that would feel worse.
“Coming?” the agent called out, swinging open the ten-foot-tall door.
All right. He could take a vacation from being the no guy just this once. He could be Dr. Peterson for one afternoon.
The tour began in the grand foyer, which featured ceilings that touched the sky, the aforementioned chandelier, and an ornate curved stairway leading to the upper levels. But Arthur couldn’t stop staring at the marble-tiled floor. Not a scuff to be found on it. It was brilliantly shiny, maybe more so than their bathroom mirror at home, which always seemed vaguely foggy no matter how many times he cleaned it.
“So when are you due, if you don’t mind me asking?” the Realtor chirped. Linda Kellerman was her name (and according to the pin on her blazer,Getting You a Great Dealwas her game).
“September third,” Wren said.
“So soon! You two must be eager to find the right fit, then.”
He noticed that Linda was removing her shoes. It was one of those homes, apparently. He and Wren did the same.
“Absolutely,” Wren said. “I can’t wait to raise his babies while he’s off making a difference in the world. It’s been a dream of mine since I was little.”
