I clear my throat and force my gaze back to her face. “You’re going furniture shopping?”
She nods.
“Can I come?”
Margot’s brows rise, a glimmer of amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You want to go furniture shopping with me?”
“Yes,” I reply without hesitation. “Looks like I have a whole house that needs furnishing.”
***
“That’s not a dresser,” I chide as Margot loads a small plastic drawer unit into the cart.
“I didn’t say I needed a dresser; I said I needed something to hold clothes.”
“Most people call that a dresser.”
“So, you agree that this is a dresser then?” she smirks.
I stare daggers at the plastic drawer unit in the cart. “Margot, that thing’s only going to hold about four socks.”
Margot drops her head to one side, giving me a playfully annoyed glare. “I just need something to get my things off the floor. This will be fine for now. I’m buying a dresser next month.”
“Next month?” I repeat, perplexed.
“Yes, next month. I made a spreadsheet ranking the large furniture purchases in order of importance. I’m going to buy one item with each paycheck.”
“But why?” I ask. “We’re already here. I rented a U-Haul. Why not just buy everything you need right now?”
She hesitates for a second, eyes locked on the path ahead when she speaks. “With Jeremy gone, rent is a bit of a stretch. I had to tighten up my budget.”
Something clenches deep in my chest. I grew up poor. We lived in cheap motels when my parents could afford it, homeless shelters when they couldn’t. Money problems always pull at my heartstrings.
My brother built True North Outfitters into what it is today to make sure that our family never had to struggle again. Now that I have far more money than I actually need, I have a hard time standing by when the people I care about need help. But I also know that accepting help isn’t always easy for people.
“Pick out a real dresser,” I say. “I’ll pay for it.”
Margot shakes her head. “Ethan, that’s very generous of you, but you’ve done enough. This is all I need for now.” She pats the plastic drawer unit and starts walking again.
I follow, pushing the cart that contains nothing but one set of plastic drawers. My grip on the cart tightens when I think of Jeremy taking all of the furniture. As we walk past vignettes of fully stocked kitchens and living rooms, I wonder what else he took. Does she need cookware? Plates? What else is she just making do with until her next paycheck?
We walk in silence until the bed section comes into view. Margot veers off the main concourse, drifting through rows of bedframes and bare mattresses. She places her palm on a few, giving them a little push before moving onto the next until she finds one she likes. Margot keeps her knees glued together to keep from flashing everyone as she lowers herself onto the mattress. When she lies back, her black sweater rides up, revealing a small slice of pale skin. She runs her palms down the front, quickly smoothing it back into place.
This is the first time I’ve seen Margot in her weekend wear. It’s not much different than her work attire. Lots of dark colors.Cozy sweaters paired with plaid skirts, dark tights, and these weird, short little boots. She always looks like she’d be right at home reshelving books at the Oxford library.
Actually, she would probably love that job.
Margot peels herself off the mattress and moves to the one beside it. I make my way over and find her lying there like a board with her eyes closed. She’s nothing if not thorough, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s trying to power nap to get a better feel for sleeping on the mattress. Her dark hair is fanned out around her head, and her chest rises and falls in slow, steady breaths. It’s obvious by the way her body relaxes against the mattress that this one is better than the last.
“Is this the one?” I ask.
Margot’s eyes pop open, flaring a little when she sees me standing there.
“It’s nice,” she says noncommittally.
Sitting up, her head swings from the price tag on this mattress to the one next to it. Her shoulders deflate a little. There’s a three-hundred-dollar difference in price. “But, um, I think I’ll go with that one.”
The dresser is one thing, but a bed needs to be comfortable. I open my mouth to argue, to offer to buy it for her or at least pay the difference, but I know she won’t accept.