Chapter_6

Declined?” Jordan said. They sat on their living room sofa, the broker on speakerphone. Rosie had her feet in Jordan’s lap. All morning she’d channeled her anxiety into watching time-lapse videos on Instagram of goats clearing backyards of invasive plants.

“There’s another offer,” the broker said, “and they’re very motivated.”

“We’re motivated,” Jordan said defensively. “I mean, what will it take?”

“A lot,” the broker said. “Too much. At this point, you should really think about how much you want this house. A competitive offer will push it way beyond the fair market value.” Rosie could hear the broker’s car blinker ticking.

“We’ll call you back,” Jordan said. He went into the kitchen and stared inside the pantry. Rosie allowed the disappointment to consume her. She envisioned boxing up the dream and putting it out of sight. She tried to feel relieved but only felt sad.

Jordan came back into the living room, unsheathing a granola bar. “Don’t worry,” he said, taking a bite. “It’s going to be OK. We can do better.”

“I agree.” She smiled, the disappointment all-consuming. “I’m sure we’ll find something in our budget that’s just as nice, or better.”

“No, I mean we can make a better offer,” Jordan said. He pushed the rest of the granola bar into his mouth and pulled out his phone.

“What about what the broker said?”

Jordan swallowed. “If someone else wants it this bad, it can’t be too much of a shithole.”

“Can we afford it?”

“The down payment is three-quarters of my cash savings. I know that sounds like a lot, but this is what people save for.”

Rosie looked at him skeptically. Jordan spent money freely and joyfully. He never looked at the total before checking out at the grocery store. When his computer died, he seemed excited to replace it with one that was even bigger. When they went out to eat, he always chose the most expensive wine on the menu and encouraged Rosie to do the same.

“And I’ll update Bridey,” he said, “to see what they’ve set aside for us.”

“I really don’t want your mom to be involved in this,” Rosie said. “It’ll give her too much power. You know how she can be...”

“She’ll be happy to help. It’s not like she’ll lord over us. She’s not like that.”

“Look at what happened with our wedding,” Rosie said gently. “It was beautiful, but she shot down all our ideas. Please, let’s do this on our own.”

“OK,” Jordan said. He closed his eyes. “OK.”

“So let’s just think about it,” Rosie said. “Right?”

“I’m calling her back,” Jordan said, dialing. He put the phone on speaker.

“Are you sure? I just think—”

He held his hand up. “I’m sure. I’ll move some money around. Cash out the growth fund. I’ll keep the crypto. It’s workable.” He cleared his throat. “It’s Jordan,” he said, when the broker picked up. “And Rosie.”

“I know,” the broker said.

“We wanna roll the dice.”

That week, Rosie felt like a passenger in a car driving at top speed. Jordan’s effort to make a deal bordered on sport. His bids quickly reached the outer limits of Rosie’s imagination. He’d cashed out all his investment accounts to secure the growing down payment. Each time they submitted a new offer, his mood surged, while she felt a generalized dread. They were having sex more than usual, and Jordan was more assertive, sometimes flipping her into new positions, his zero-protection fantasy more alive than ever. In one iteration, he was a pilot and she was a flight attendant. Rosie wondered when this unlikely scenario had entered his mind, but she went along with it, and the next time, she was his assistant, and after that, she was his boss. Each time the heat of the moment overtook them into a potential accidental pregnancy, and all the while Rosie’s birth control dutifully ran interference.

For a while she’d texted Alice the details of the bidding war, but Alice’s replies grew increasingly terse, so Rosie took the hint to stop. Alice had discovered the house, after all, and now Rosie was the one chasing it. Several times she had reached for her phone to call her mother, and finally, she did. “Ozie,” her mother said on the other end of the line. “Ozie” was what Rosie had called herself before she was able to pronounce her own name. Her mother always greeted Rosie this way, which comforted Rosie just long enough to imagine the conversation wouldn’t devolve into criticism, which it always did. “To what do I owe this rare occasion?”

Rosie found herself hastily overexplaining her move. “It’s upstate, in a little town called Scout Hill. And it’s over two hundred years old. There are no right angles, and the floors tilt. It’s charming.” She laughed a little, filling the silence on the phone. “Mom?”

“I’m here. So, that’s what you called to tell me? You’re moving away?”

“Well, if we win the bidding war. It’s gotten really competitive.”

“What’s wrong with the city?”

“Nothing,” Rosie lied.

“Well, I don’t know anything about bidding. It’s not what I would do.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it,” her mother said. “You take after your father, I guess. Never satisfied.”

“Are we crazy?” Rosie said to Jordan, the night before the final day of the auction. “Even our broker doesn’t want us to make this offer.”

“It’s like you said,” Jordan replied. “Reverse psychology.” They sat in their bed, naked and flushed, propped against a pair of expensive, overstuffed pillows they’d received from Jordan’s colleague as a wedding gift. An ambulance siren bleated outside their window. Jordan was on his laptop, crafting a best and final offer, which had nearly doubled since the beginning round.

“I know it seems like a lot, but this is all very normal. We’re two married people buying a house together. Our parents probably felt the same way when they bought their first homes for, like, ten thousand dollars.”

Rosie’s mother had only ever lived in a rent-controlled apartment, but she took his point. Still, the purchase was terrifying. Jordan had waived the inspection and promised to close within thirty days of their final offer.

“I just want to make sure you feel OK about this,” Rosie said, reaching for his hand. “Let’s just think for a second. Is it really wise to spend your entire savings? There’s still time to back down. Maybe we should wait a few years and save a little. Try again when the demand dies down.” She felt herself deflate.

“Rosie,” Jordan said, “this is your dream. And you are my dream. Yes, you’re right, we could spend a few years saving. The question is, would you like to do that in Scout Hill, or in Brooklyn?”

He slid his laptop to her. The offer form was open. Rosie averted her eyes from the number.

“It’s yours to sign,” he said.