Даниэла Стил - All That Glitters

“I don’t want to live in New York.” He looked shocked. “Why don’t you sell your parents’ apartment and the beach house to defray the cost of a house here? We’re never going to live there.” He dismissed the possibility summarily, and she felt a sudden pang of homesickness for New York. It seemed reasonable to him to live in London, but not entirely to her. She had roots in New York, memories, and homes. But her husband was English. She realized that they should have discussed it thoroughly before they married.

“I don’t want to sell my property there. I love my parents’ apartment. It’s been my home for my whole life. And the beach house too.”

“Are you telling me you can’t afford a house here? Or don’t want to?” He looked devastated and like he didn’t believe her.

“No, but I’m telling you it’s a lot of money. We don’t need a house that big. We could buy something smaller, and buy a bigger house when we have children. And I want to spend time in New York too.”

“How long do you want to wait for kids?” he asked her, worried.

“Several years. I told you that before. I’m twenty-three years old. I’m not ready for babies. I haven’t even finished college.”

“Are you ready to be married, Coco?” he asked accusingly, as though she was letting him down. It was another conversation they should have had before, but they hadn’t. “You’re sounding like a child.” He sounded disapproving as he accused her of it.

“I’m ready to be married because I love you, but I didn’t realize you wanted to buy a house, and certainly not one that size. I need to think about it.” She did not want to be pushed into it, or bullied. But she didn’t want him to be unhappy either. He was her family now.

“You’d better think fast, or someone will snap those houses up. I’ve been looking for two months, and they’re by far the best I’ve seen,” he said coldly, as though she was cheating him of his due. There was suddenly an atmosphere of tension around them in the tiny mews house, and it went on for days. He didn’t argue with her about it. He didn’t speak to her at all. They stopped making love. She had the sense that it was going to be a cold war until she gave in. The only thing that gave her some comfort was knowing that even if she bought one of them, they were both beautiful homes and probably were a good investment that they could always sell. But he was forcing her hand. And living in either of them would be a much grander lifestyle than the one she wanted, even as a married woman.

After several sleepless nights, while they barely spoke to each other, she decided to tell him to look for something smaller that would be easier to manage. She would have preferred to stay where they were for another year or two. She was waiting at the breakfast table to tell him, after another sleepless night, and he looked so miserable when he sat down that she didn’t have the heart to tell him she wasn’t going to buy either house. It was the first major financial decision she’d ever had to face, and didn’t feel equal to it. They’d been married for less than two months, and he expected her to spend a fortune so they could show off to their friends.

“Coco,” he said, looking exhausted, “I’m not asking you to throw money away, or to give it to me. Both of these houses are excellent investments, and the house will be in your name,” he reminded her. She had never bought a house before and it scared her, especially with so much pressure from him.

“I don’t even know how to run a house that size. Or if I want to live here. I came here for a few months,” she said, feeling suffocated and panicked.

“And now you’re married to an Englishman, and you do live here. I can run the house for you. If there’s one thing I know, it’s big houses,” he said confidently. “The house in Sussex was ten times that size.” And now his brother had it. Nigel was trying to re-create what he had lost. It was a fresh insight into him. And he expected her to do it for him. Coco was beginning to understand that now. It was a very tall order, and a lot for him to expect of her.

“I don’t feel ready for a big house like that,” she said with tears in her eyes, and he smiled at her.

“I’ll do everything for it. We both want to have a beautiful life together. A house like that is part of it.” She was in over her head. She suddenly knew that she had run out of the energy to do battle with him. She had the money, and he had the endurance and determination to fight her on it forever until he got what he wanted. He wanted one of those two houses, or one like them, and nothing was going to stop him. She felt her resolve melting. He couldn’t force her to do it, but in a way he had. He was stronger than she was, and bigger, and older, and wanted a big house and a big life desperately. Far more than she did. It was part of his identity, the one he wanted, at her expense.

“All right,” she said with a long, tired sigh. She told him which one she preferred, the one without the ballroom, and he conceded, as though making a sacrifice for her.

“I’ll call the estate agent. Coco, you won’t regret it. You’ll thank me one day, when the house is full of our children, and we’re giving the most spectacular parties in London.” She didn’t want parties or children at the moment, so it didn’t sound like good news to her, and it was a huge amount of money, which he didn’t mind at all.

They signed the papers a week later, which gave her plenty of time for buyer’s remorse, but she didn’t want to disappoint him. She felt pushed to the wall. They were going to take possession of the house sixty days later in May. In April, he gave her a list of all the things he wanted to do in the house, built-ins and marble fixtures, chandeliers, and changes he wanted to make. He had been interviewing contractors. She almost choked when she saw their estimates.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” he said, smiling at her. “I’ll oversee everything. They say they can have us in by August.”

“Why don’t we just move straight to the poorhouse? Do we need to have all that done to it? The house looked perfect to me.”

“Trust me. It will be even better when we’re finished. You’re going to love it.” She didn’t love it. She loved him. And then he hit her with another bomb. “We’ll need furniture too of course.” She hadn’t even thought of that for a house that size. It was a daunting prospect, and would be an expensive one. They were going to be hemorrhaging money for the next five months. She remembered a remodel her mother had done of the city apartment, and her father’s complaints about how expensive it was. Now she understood. She had only known Nigel for seven months, and had no idea how expensive his tastes were. He had very grandiose ideas. But as soon as she agreed to buy the house, he became warm and loving again, and wanted to make love to her all the time. The floodgates had opened and he couldn’t get enough of her. The cold war was over, but it had cost her dearly. He never doubted for a moment that she could afford it. He had done his homework well.

They took possession of the house in May, and the workmen started almost immediately. It was a mess within days. The whole house was torn apart for Nigel’s improvements. It looked like a bomb had hit it. The pristine quality she had liked about it had vanished. The disruption added measurably to the tension between them. Their nights in the mews house were more stressful than pleasant as they argued about the work on the new house. The weekend parties they went to constantly, more than ever now that they were the golden couple everyone wanted to entertain, only meant that she had to put a good face on the strife between them.