The Trust

Chapter 13: Land of Plenty

I'm at the local Mega Mart, a place I both love and hate. It's one of those giant warehouse shopping emporiums, where you must pay an annual fee of $60 just for the privilege of shopping there. It's always crowded, night and day, and to find one item you have to work your way through a baffling maze. As a shopping experience, I rate it right up there with getting a root canal.

Does anyone on this island even work, I wonder, as I cruise the parking lot looking for a spot. How can anyone afford to spend money at this place if they're here all the time? I'm a hypocrite of course because I'm here — on a rushed, lunch hour mission to find a fall jacket.

Finally, I nab a spot and swing in. I'm on the way inside when I hear my name being called. "Oh, hi Catherine." It's one of the moms from Audrey's soccer team. She's pushing a giant cart overflowing with items.

"I just went in there for pasta sauce and ended up spending five hundred dollars," she laughs and I fake a smile.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat—"

"You are one lucky girl, so I hear," she says, her eyes glinting with excitement. I groan inwardly. She must have heard about the money, which so far has not made an appearance in anyone's bank account despite my uncle's assurances that it's coming. With each passing day, my hope is fading.

"Oh, that. I—"

"A Mediterranean cruise in December – how romantic! I overheard Clive booking the trip with Brandon. You're going to have a wonderful time. Is it a special occasion?"

It comes to me that Catherine works in a travel agency. Clive must have booked the cruise for our anniversary in December. As shocked an annoyed as I am, a part of me is touched he remembered and wanted to celebrate with a big surprise. A surprise this woman has just ruined.

"It's our anniversary in December," I say. This time, my smile is genuine. He'll have to cancel the trip of course and get his deposit back. Hopefully, it was only a hundred dollars are so. But I realize I'm not angry. I'm touched. The old Clive did things like this all the time to surprise me. Maybe he did care after all.

"Well, that's wonderful. Gotta dash, but it was good seeing you." She starts to push on with her huge cart before stopping again. "Oh and tell your mother thanks a lot for the donation."

I pause and turn around. "What donation?"

"She's giving five thousand dollars to the soccer association for the girls' ski trip to Quebec in February! So generous. See you later!"

Five thousand dollars?! My mom doesn't have five thousand cents. This is getting out of hand. We didn't even have the money yet, and my husband is spending like a Kardashian and my mom can't give it away fast enough. 

I dig my phone out to give her a call, but she's not picking up. I shake my head and toss the phone back into the portable junk drawer that is my purse. A good chunk of my lunch hour has already been eaten away and I'm determined to stay on mission.

Navigating around shoppers with their massive carts piled into mountains, I'm careful not to bump into them lest I be buried in an avalanche of luxury food items and giant packs of toilet paper.

I've been looking for a good fall jacket for a while, making do with my worn spring one that's seen better days. I have specific criteria if I'm going to spend the money on a new coat for myself — It needs to be fleece-lined and able to withstand the sharp winds that come off the North Atlantic that pierce even the warmest of autumn days. But lightweight, and with a hood. I've gone to three stores in the mall and the cheapest coats I can find are at least $150 and either hoodless or of flimsy quality. If Audrey or Clive needed it, I wouldn't think twice but when it comes to shopping for myself, it seems an outrageous price and I won't pay it.