Read Online The Penny Pinchers Club by Sarah Strohmeyer - Free Book Online
Authors: Sarah Strohmeyer
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in town. This is the perfect opportunity.”
“Chloe’s got clients coming any minute.”
“So?” Elaine rolled her eyes. “When Chloe’s meeting with them, you can call Madeleine. The only reason she hasn’t called yet is that she’s so freaking busy, she doesn’t know what day it is.”
I was tempted. I really was. Only one teensy-weensy problem. Chloe possessed an unforgiving vengeful streak as hard as the diamonds on her fingers. When combined with her insistence on devout loyalty, calling Madeleine Granville was akin to career suicide.
If Chloe so much as suspected I went behind her back and sought a client on my own in an effort to take the first steps in establishing my own business, she would not only fire me, she would see to it that no one in the tri-state interior decorating network took me on, too. That I could not risk, not with Laura to send to school the following year in an economy where professional interior decorating was the first luxury to be axed from the average homeowner’s budget.
“Take a chance.” Elaine pulled out her BlackBerry, scrolled to Madeleine’s number, and wrote it down on Chloe’s to-do list. “Nothing good happens if you don’t take chances.”
With a last thumbs-up, Elaine grabbed the Town & Country , picked a few Oreo crumbs off the white carpeting, and went across the hall to her office. I was left to stare at Madeleine’s number.
The door to Chloe’s office flew open. “Is she gone?”
“Yup.”
Chloe checked her watch. “None too soon, either. Ray and Andrea Perotta are five minutes late. Can’t you do something about her? She’s bringing down the property values.”
“She’s my friend. And she gets us clients.”
“At the very least, she could make an effort. Oreos. All that saturated fat.” Chloe shivered. “Have some self-respect, for god’s sake.”
Two minutes later, in walked the Perottas—a retired couple moving to New Jersey to be closer to their daughter and son-in-law—for the ritual of contract signing that Chloe demanded be done in her office. I never understood why she didn’t do this in people’s homes, like other interior decorators did, until I was searching through her desk one day and came across a mini digital recorder.
Along with vengeful and demanding, I could add paranoid to Chloe’s many delightful characteristics.
I led the Perottas to Chloe’s office and once I’d fetched the usual coffee and tea, went back to my desk, where Madeleine’s number stared up at me like a dare.
Do it, I thought. Do it now or you never will.
My fingers tapped out the numbers on my cell as I applauded myself for having the decency not to use Chloe’s phone. If anything, I was ethical.
“Hello?”
I didn’t expect her to answer right away. But then, in worrying about this fact instead of talking, I created a pause that was so long, Madeleine had to say hello again.
Quickly, I introduced myself, throwing out Elaine’s name a billion times until Madeleine eagerly said,“Oh, yes. I’ve been meaning to call you. This house is wonderful, but it’s so . . . dark. I was just thinking how much I’d like to get it redone this winter and how I should probably get started now.”
Great. We were getting somewhere. Moreover, I had done my homework on her Lambertville home (former rectory; possible historic designation; great views of the Delaware; desperately in need of new windows, floors, and an updated kitchen) and was about to wow her with my knowledge when my phone beeped and I looked down to see— Griff.
“Excuse me,” I apologized. “I’ve got another call on the line that I have to take. I’m afraid it’s my family.”
I didn’t know if putting her on hold was something Madeleine would tolerate—Elaine described her as very harsh, very rushed, and not exactly family friendly—but at that moment, my marriage came first.
“Hi,” Griff said, his usual cheerful self. “Were you trying to reach me? I forgot to
“Chloe’s got clients coming any minute.”
“So?” Elaine rolled her eyes. “When Chloe’s meeting with them, you can call Madeleine. The only reason she hasn’t called yet is that she’s so freaking busy, she doesn’t know what day it is.”
I was tempted. I really was. Only one teensy-weensy problem. Chloe possessed an unforgiving vengeful streak as hard as the diamonds on her fingers. When combined with her insistence on devout loyalty, calling Madeleine Granville was akin to career suicide.
If Chloe so much as suspected I went behind her back and sought a client on my own in an effort to take the first steps in establishing my own business, she would not only fire me, she would see to it that no one in the tri-state interior decorating network took me on, too. That I could not risk, not with Laura to send to school the following year in an economy where professional interior decorating was the first luxury to be axed from the average homeowner’s budget.
“Take a chance.” Elaine pulled out her BlackBerry, scrolled to Madeleine’s number, and wrote it down on Chloe’s to-do list. “Nothing good happens if you don’t take chances.”
With a last thumbs-up, Elaine grabbed the Town & Country , picked a few Oreo crumbs off the white carpeting, and went across the hall to her office. I was left to stare at Madeleine’s number.
The door to Chloe’s office flew open. “Is she gone?”
“Yup.”
Chloe checked her watch. “None too soon, either. Ray and Andrea Perotta are five minutes late. Can’t you do something about her? She’s bringing down the property values.”
“She’s my friend. And she gets us clients.”
“At the very least, she could make an effort. Oreos. All that saturated fat.” Chloe shivered. “Have some self-respect, for god’s sake.”
Two minutes later, in walked the Perottas—a retired couple moving to New Jersey to be closer to their daughter and son-in-law—for the ritual of contract signing that Chloe demanded be done in her office. I never understood why she didn’t do this in people’s homes, like other interior decorators did, until I was searching through her desk one day and came across a mini digital recorder.
Along with vengeful and demanding, I could add paranoid to Chloe’s many delightful characteristics.
I led the Perottas to Chloe’s office and once I’d fetched the usual coffee and tea, went back to my desk, where Madeleine’s number stared up at me like a dare.
Do it, I thought. Do it now or you never will.
My fingers tapped out the numbers on my cell as I applauded myself for having the decency not to use Chloe’s phone. If anything, I was ethical.
“Hello?”
I didn’t expect her to answer right away. But then, in worrying about this fact instead of talking, I created a pause that was so long, Madeleine had to say hello again.
Quickly, I introduced myself, throwing out Elaine’s name a billion times until Madeleine eagerly said,“Oh, yes. I’ve been meaning to call you. This house is wonderful, but it’s so . . . dark. I was just thinking how much I’d like to get it redone this winter and how I should probably get started now.”
Great. We were getting somewhere. Moreover, I had done my homework on her Lambertville home (former rectory; possible historic designation; great views of the Delaware; desperately in need of new windows, floors, and an updated kitchen) and was about to wow her with my knowledge when my phone beeped and I looked down to see— Griff.
“Excuse me,” I apologized. “I’ve got another call on the line that I have to take. I’m afraid it’s my family.”
I didn’t know if putting her on hold was something Madeleine would tolerate—Elaine described her as very harsh, very rushed, and not exactly family friendly—but at that moment, my marriage came first.
“Hi,” Griff said, his usual cheerful self. “Were you trying to reach me? I forgot to
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