Tim smacked a ball of ground beef, flattening it into a patty. “I love him, Grace. But sometimes he is just impossible, especially about money.”
I’d had my fair share of money arguments with Jonah too. We just had different priorities. Jonah claimed it was because I grew up wanting for almost nothing, while he grew up wanting for almost everything.
According to the magazine article I’d read in Dr. Rubenstein’s waiting room last week, the number one issue couples fight about is money. Sex and children are numbers two and three.
Although Tim and Richard’s house was large, I knew they hadn’t purchased it. Richard told me he’d inherited the house from his mother when she died. Other than the money they received from the State for fostering, they were a one-income family. Tim previously worked as a graphic designer, but these days his job was to take care of the house and the kids. Richard was a physician’s assistant in a doctor’s office, but I had no idea how much that paid.
“He’s probably just worried,” I said. “When I was pregnant with Amelia, Jonah was a stressed out mess. We argued all the time. But after Amelia was born, he was fine.”
“I know he’s nervous,” Tim replied. “I am too. The agency called us this morning and told us we need to pick up the baby from the hospital tomorrow.”
“Wow, they don’t give you much notice.” At least Jonah and I had nine months to prepare.
“No,” Tim said, pounding out another patty. “If I had more time, then I could’ve gotten us everything we needed used. But with one day’s notice, I have to buy new. What choice do I have?”
“You could shop at Ikea,” Richard said. I spun around and found him standing in the entrance to the kitchen. I hadn’t heard him come inside. I thought he was still in the backyard with the kids. “It doesn’t have to be Pottery Barn,” Richard continued.
“You want your son to sleep in a crib made of sawdust?” Tim asked.
“It’s not sawdust,” Richard replied. “It’s particleboard. And the Pottery Barn crib wasn’t solid wood either.”
“Just so you know,” I said, keeping my eyes focused on the cucumber I was slicing, “the baby’s not going to sleep in the crib for the first few months anyway. Most people start with a bassinet in their bedroom then move the baby to a crib when they’re older.”
“See,” Richard said. “We don’t even need a crib yet. Let me ask around at work. Maybe someone has a crib they’re not using anymore.”
“I have one,” I said.
Both Richard and Tim stared at me.
“I’ve got everything—a crib, a dresser, a changing table, the bassinet too. Nice stuff,” I said to Tim. “You’ll like it. Although you’ll probably want to buy new bedding because mine’s all pink.”
“You still have Amelia’s things?” Tim asked.
“Everything but her clothes, although you wouldn’t want them anyway. They definitely looked like girl clothes. But I still have all the furniture.” I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, but I didn’t let them escape.
Richard glanced at Tim, then back at me. “No, Grace. We can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” I sniffed back my tears and forced a smile. “And you would be doing me a favor. My mother’s been hounding me to get rid of this stuff since the day after the funeral. She’ll probably send you a thank-you card.”
Tim wiped his hands on a dish towel and hugged me. “I’m sure when you’re ready you will,” he said, “but not today. Not for us.”
He let go of me and I stepped back and wiped my eyes. “Please let me do this. Otherwise, I’ll just end up donating it all to some random charity, and I’d much rather it went to people who I know will give it a good home.”
Tim and Richard exchanged another glance.
“Are you sure?” Richard asked. “Absolutely sure?”
“We don’t want to pressure you,” Tim added.
“You’re not pressuring me. I offered. You’ll be doing me a favor by taking it off my hands.”
Chapter 10
“You want some coffee?” I asked Richard when he arrived at my house early the next morning. He had dark circles under his eyes, and I wondered if he’d slept at all last night.
“No, it’ll just make me more jittery. Do you have a toolbox? I left mine sitting next to the front door so I wouldn’t forget, and I still walked out of the house without it.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll go get it.”
When I returned with the toolbox Richard took it from me and followed me up the steps. When I opened the door to Amelia’s room, his jaw dropped. I didn’t know if his reaction was because he liked the décor or because the room still looked exactly like it had when Amelia was alive. Other than packing up her clothes and diapers, I hadn’t changed anything.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Richard asked as I pulled the bassinet out of the closet where my mother had hidden it away after the funeral.
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. It was time.
“What about these?” Richard nodded to the dresser where the books, nightlight, and the few items of clothing I intended to save were still sitting, along with Jonah’s flash drive. I’d stashed the flash drive in Amelia’s room a few weeks ago to stop myself from obsessively checking it every day. Out of sight, out of mind, I’d told myself, which wasn’t true. I still thought about it all the time, I just no longer plugged it into my computer daily trying to guess the password.
“You’re welcome to the nightlight,” I said. “I’m keeping the rest.”
Richard handed me the flash drive first. “Baby photos?” he asked. “Or was Amelia so advanced you were already teaching her coding?”
I laughed. “I actually have no idea what’s on it. You wouldn’t know how to circumvent a password on one of these, would you?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I can barely remember my own. I know they tell you not to write them down, but I have to. I forgot my bank password once and it was a bitch getting access again.”
“I know. I always write them down too. But apparently my husband didn’t.”
At the mention of Jonah, Richard looked away. I was used to that reaction and didn’t take offense.
