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“Actually,” I say, reaching for my own glass of iced tea, pleased to see that my hand isn’t shaking at all as I hold it. Way to go, Lizzie! “I’m not here to beg for my job, Monsieur Henri. I’ve found another job. I’m here to make an offer on your building.”
Monsieur Henri nearly drops the glass he’s holding. Madame Henri chokes a little on the mouthful of iced tea she’s just taken.
“I… I beg your pardon, Elizabeth?” She coughs.
“I know I ought to have gone through your Realtor,” I say quickly. “But the thing is, I don’t have all the money. Yet. But I will. Soon. And the rest I can pay as we go along, but it will have to be over a period of a few years. Which I know isn’t exactly what you were hoping for, but”—I lean forward, speaking to both of them in a low, urgent voice, while somewhere off in the distance, a lawn mower roars to life and a bird begins a plaintive but still melodious song—“the advantage of selling to me, as opposed to some stranger, is that you won’t be paying any Realtor fees. We can cut out the middleman completely, and you’ll be saving yourself hundreds of thousands of dollars. I’m willing to make you an offer right now, here, today, no inspection, no nothing, of four point five million dollars. And before you say you think the building is worth more,” I say, cutting off both of them, since I hear them inhale, “allow me to point out that I live and work there. I don’t need an inspection because I know how much work the place needs. I’ve seen the cracks, plugged up the leaks, called the exterminator myself for the rats down in the basement more times than I can count. And I’m making my offer to you now, today, with my guarantee that you will have the whole amount five years from today. I’ll sign anything you want guaranteeing it. All I ask is that you remember where the two of you were when I first walked through your door a year ago. And where you both are now.”
I lean back against the bench and take a long swig from my iced tea. Even for a talker, I am spent after having given such a long speech. I eye the two of them as they stare uneasily back at me.
Then Madame Henri looks at her husband.
“The Realtor fees are a lot,” she says in French. Even though they both know perfectly well by now that I speak their native language more or less fluently, they still slip back into it when they don’t want me to overhear what they’re saying, out of force of habit. “We could save a lot of money.”
“But we’d have to wait for the money,” her husband says petulantly. “You heard her.”
“So?” his wife demands. “What are you pla
“Maybe,” Monsieur Henri says with a snort.
“You heard what the inspector said,” Madame Henri says. “About the asbestos in the basement.”
“He also said if we left it alone, it wouldn’t be a problem. All pipes in Manhattan are lined with asbestos.”
I listen to this without blinking. I already know about the asbestos. The plumber told me months ago. I’d pla
“It’s going to cost thousands to get it removed,” Madame Henri goes on. “Maybe tens of thousands. Do you want that hassle?”
“No,” Monsieur Henri pouts.
“This way,” his wife says, “we can be done with it in an afternoon. We don’t even have to pay to have our things moved out! She’ll keep them!”
Monsieur Henri brightens at this. “Eh! I didn’t think of this! But where’s she getting all this money? She’s not even thirty.”
“Who knows?” his wife asks with a Gallic shrug. “The dead grandmother, perhaps?”
“Ask her,” Monsieur Henri says.
Then they both turn to me. And Madame Henri asks in English, “Did you hear all that?”
“Of course,” I say testily. “I’m not deaf. And I speak French. Remember?”
“I know.” Madame Henri shakes her head. “The money is from your grandmother?”
“No,” I say. “It’s from a deal I made last night with Geck Industries. I’m going to be designing a line of wedding wear for their discount department stores.”
Monsieur Henri looks confused. “But if you are going to work for Geck, then why do you still want the shop?”
“Because I’m still going to be doing gowns for my own customers,” I said. “Independent of Geck. Besides, your shop… my shop, if you’ll agree to sell it to me… it’s home.”
I feel ridiculous, but as I say the word, tears fill my eyes. And yet… it’s true. That pokey little apartment—which I fully intend to renovate if it ever becomes mine—is the place where I’ve known some of the highest highs, and lowest lows, of my life. I can’t let it slip away from me. I won’t. Not without a fight.
Madame Henri blinks a few times. Then she looks at her husband. He arches his eyebrows.
“Well,” Monsieur Henri says. “In that case… I think we have to sell the building to Elizabeth. Do you not agree, chérie?”
Madame Henri’s face breaks into an enormous smile.
“I agree,” she says.
Which is how, a half hour later, I end up drinking champagne in the noonday sun with Madame Henri in her back garden, while the birds chirp all around us, and her husband shows Chaz, who’s returned from his odyssey at the mall, how to play pétanque—a sport at which, it soon becomes apparent, he excels…
Almost as much as he excels in coaching me in how to get my former bosses to sell me their place of business.
It’s important to remember that many of the most sumptuous and expensive weddings in history didn’t always lead to romantic bliss. Look at Henry VIII and his many wives; Prince Charles and Princess Diana; and of course the always optimistic but unlucky in love Miss Elizabeth Taylor.
No matter how large or small your wedding, what’s crucial is that you’re marrying the right person, someone who loves you for who you are, not whether or not you can provide him with a male heir, how much money you have, or whether or not you look good in a bathing suit. Love is a many-splendored thing, it’s true. But there is nothing more important than making sure your life partner is someone who can make you laugh when you are feeling down, will bring you ci
Tip to Avoid a Wedding Day Disaster
When the guests are gone, the gifts all unwrapped and put away, and the last thank-you note finally written, you might feel the tiniest bit depressed. This is normal! After all, you’ve just been through the most joyous time of your life—your (hopefully) only wedding! It’s natural that you feel a little sad it’s all over. But keep in mind you’re about to embark upon the most wonderful and joyous journey ever… married life!
Still, it’s okay to put your wedding gown on every now and then… even just to watch TV. Everybody does it.
Really.
LIZZIE NICHOLS DESIGNS™