Greedy Givers

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3CeCe looked down at her vibrating phone. She was standing before the most gorgeous display of designer handbags at Nordstrom in King of Prussia.

“Do you need to get that?” asked the salesgirl.

“No.” CeCe slipped her phone back into her handbag. She didn’t work for the foundation. They had all made it very clear that they didn’t appreciate any of her observations or suggestions. “It’s my husband’s foundation. If it’s important, they’ll text me.”

The saleswoman smiled and pointed a finger at CeCe. “I thought I recognized you.”

CeCe gave her a puzzled look. She was sure she had never seen the woman before.

“You were in the Inquirer last week. On the ‘Cause and Celebration’ social page. You were wearing a gorgeous magenta ball gown.”

CeCe smiled and nodded. “Wasn’t it fabulous?”

The gown brought back happy memories now, but when Cuddy had discovered how much the dress had cost, it had caused another shouting match between them. She had argued that her off-the-rack gown was half the cost of what the other women would be wearing. Theirs would undoubtedly be custom made. He hadn’t understood the importance of looking the part, but he hadn’t made her return it. The dress had been the right choice. Even the Nordstrom salesperson remembered how fabulous she had looked in it.

“My name is Lisa. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Cecelia Mullins, but please call me CeCe.”

“Well, CeCe,” she said as they shook hands, “you have excellent taste.” Lisa then gave CeCe’s black, quilted Chanel bag an admiring touch. “That’s gorgeous. A classic. I want to show you a few of the special bags we have in the back.” She gave a conspiratorial wink and slipped through the door marked Employees Only.

Lisa returned from the storeroom with an armful of colorful, square boxes. “With your fashion sense, I thought you would appreciate the newest releases from our high-end designers,” she said, opening the boxes to display one luxurious purse after another. CeCe stroked the soft leather and rich embellishments on the greenish-gray Fendi bag; she knew she should walk away, but her hands continued to caress the fine Italian workmanship. The last time she came home toting shopping bags full of designer outfits and shoes, Cuddy had looked like he was going to explode. He didn’t understand that, in her role as his wife, she needed to represent, to show the wealthy donors and philanthropists who invited them to dinners and parties that they belonged. They may have thought it quaint that Cuddy continued to sport suits from Men’s Wearhouse, but even a department store salesgirl recognized that she shouldn’t be caught dead carrying around last year’s Coach bag purchased from the outlets. How bogus, how wannabe she would appear to the people they were trying to impress.

“I love this one,” said CeCe. She adjusted the shoulder strap and stared at herself in the mirror behind the counter.

“You’re lucky. It just came in. Usually they send two per store, but we received only one of these.”

“Really? So no else in the area will have this one?”

Lisa raised her eyebrows and leaned forward. “Just you.”

CeCe admired the delicate hand stitching along the edges of the opulent leather bag. “In that case, I’ll take it.” She handed the salesclerk her American Express.

As Lisa the salesgirl slipped the bag back into its felt drawstring dustcover and then the designer box, CeCe tingled with the thrill of acquisition. But somewhere in the back of her mind, the niggling feeling remained. Moments like this would never make up for her life before she met Cuddy. It was painful how something she wanted so much to forget always popped into her mind whenever she least expected it—like now, when she so wanted to enjoy her new purchase.

“Did you want the receipt, or should I place it in the bag?”

“I’ll take it.” She scanned the little slip of paper and felt her face redden. She managed to maintain her pleasant expression in spite of seeing that she had just spent $3,909 on a handbag.

“You’ll appreciate your purchase even more when I tell you that there’s a similar Hermes Birkin bag being sold for around ten thousand dollars. This is a bargain.” The salesgirl handed CeCe the purse. “Now, you should go directly to the shoe department to find a pair to match. That’s a unique shade of green. I think it’s more like a moss green or fern. I wouldn’t try to match it later by memory.”

CeCe smiled and tucked the package under her arm. Cuddy would be angry, but Lisa’s advice was valid. Although people called him a saint, that was no reason for them to take a vow of poverty. Upon arriving in the shoe department, she spied several styles in colors that, if not exact matches, complemented the new bag. She glanced around the sales floor and caught the eye of another eager to please salesclerk. Holding up two different models, she smiled broadly and called out, “I need both of these in size eight and a half,” and took a seat to wait for them to be brought to her.

As soon as she got home, she would hide them in her walk-in closet. She wouldn’t have to deal with Cuddy until the bill came.