The Cinderella Deal - Jennifer Crusie [39]
Daisy felt the familiar tightness come over her; this was her father all over again, making her feel guilty for the things she loved. Well, it wasn’t going to work this time. “It’s real furniture,” she snapped back. “It has personality. It’s not that five-and-dime science fiction crud you sit on.”
“Five-and-dime?” Linc’s eyebrows climbed so high, they almost disappeared into his hair. “That furniture cost me a fortune! It’s designer furniture.”
“Designed by whom?” Daisy crossed her arms and charged. “Darth Vader? The Hitler Youth? You said, the house is yours, Daisy. You said, you’re the one spending the most time here, Daisy. You said—”
Linc waved that off. “I know what I said. But I can’t have people in here to see this … this …”
“Careful,” Daisy said through her teeth. “I love this, this—”
Linc sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. “This isn’t going to work,” he said quietly. “This is not going to work.”
Daisy sat down beside him, her back stiff as a ramrod. “I cannot live in a soulless home. That furniture of yours was made by machines for machines,” she told him. “I know you’re not emotional, I know warmth isn’t important to you, but I can’t live without light and color and warmth. I can’t live with that horrible, horrible, cold, dark furniture.”
“All right.” He took a deep breath. “But I can’t live in squalor.” He turned to her, calm but still upset. “Daisy, look at this stuff. It’s so worn, you can’t see the pattern in the upholstery. The carpet has holes in it. Daisy, it isn’t warm, it’s worn out.”
She looked at the furniture through his eyes, and for the first time it wasn’t beautiful to her. She bit her lip as she saw the scratches and chips and holes. He was right. It hadn’t mattered when it was just hers. Her friends didn’t care about the worn spots and the holes. But his would. Crawford would be horrified. Caroline would sneer. Linc would be embarrassed.
“All right.” She fought back her tears, feeling as if she’d lost more than furniture. “But we can’t afford new stuff. And I can’t afford to throw this stuff out, because when I leave in June, I’ve got to take it with me.”
They stared hopelessly at the furniture together.
“All right,” she said again. “Aside from the holes and the faded upholstery, do you have anything against the rest of it?”
“The wood’s cracked on most of these tables,” he said dully. “The dining room chairs don’t match. The dining room table’s all right, I guess.”
She took a deep breath. “How long do I have to fix this?”
Linc leaned back against the couch. “We’re supposed to leave on our honeymoon for four days starting tonight. We’ll be back on Monday. The first time we’re having guests is after a party at the faculty club next Saturday. The Crawfords, the Bookers, and Caroline and Evan are coming over afterward for drinks.”
Daisy nodded, counting days. “Without the honeymoon, that’s eight days. We don’t need a honeymoon. I can fix this. I’ve got eight days.” She kept nodding. “I can fix this.”
“Put your flowers in water first,” Linc said quietly.
She looked at the blooms she had forgotten, still clutched in her hand. Daisies for the living room, yellow carnations for the dining room, a bright pink rose for her bedroom.
“You were really happy that your things came, weren’t you?” Linc’s voice was gentle. “And I spoiled it.”
“No.” Daisy felt ashamed. “You didn’t spoil it. I’m not used to living … like an adult, I guess. This stuff is great for me, but it’s a disaster for you. I should have seen it.” She met his eyes. “I’m truly sorry.”
He put his arm around her shoulders, and they slumped back into the overstuffed couch together and stared at their mutual problem.
“Do you really think you can fix it?” He absent-mindedly stroked her cheek with his thumb.
Daisy nodded, feeling his thumb move against her face with each nod. “I can fix anything. I just need to think.”
Cover up the holes, she thought, leaning her cheek against his hand. That would be a piece of cake. Slipcovers.