Gold Digger

*An excerpt from my current WIP*

Jordan parked her car on the drive leading up to the farmhouse. When she got out, she looked around. The grass was unkempt and of multiple colors with bald spots in multiple places. The walkway leading to the house was a jagged, tripping hazard. Jordan stepped cautiously around the gaping cracks to avoid ruining her designer stilettos. As she climbed the steps to the porch they creaked. She examined the floorboards; they probably had not been painted in her lifetime, and probably not the gray white columns that held the towering roof overhead. Jordan began to question whether the structure was even sound or if everything would collapse upon her. It was too late to turn around. She saw Gabby in the doorway before she had even rang the doorbell. 

‘So eager. I must be the only one to visit her,’ Jordan mused. 

Gabby swung the shabby white front door open which led to an equally unimpressive entryway. The floors were covered in brown paper, the unfinished walls were bare to the studs, exposing electrical wires and plumbing. 

“May I take your coat?” asked Gabby.

‘No you may not,’ was Jordan’s immediate thought. Where would Gabby store her beautiful wool coat amongst all of this construction equipment? “No thank you,” Jordan said with a polite smile. “I’m still a little cold.”

Gabby did not push further. “I apologize for the mess. This is still a work in progress since my father died.”

‘He died over three years ago,’ thought Jordan, ‘surely that was enough time to clean the place up.’

The two women walked down the hall to a room that was actually finished. The walls were painted a soft yellow. The floor to ceiling windows framed a fireplace that contained an actual fire. Jordan stared into the glowing flames and felt her body begin to sweat, but she clung stubbornly to her coat. 

“Please,” gestured Gabby, “take a seat.”

There was a green sofa and two armchairs arranged around a coffee table. Jordan sat in the middle of the sofa, sinking deep into the cushions as she took her seat. She could not prevent her tongue from salivating when she saw what was laid out before her. 

On fine china of cream and gold were finger sandwiches, scones, cakes, and chocolate truffles. Her one mistake was that she had not eaten prior to departing for Gabby’s; her mother-in-law, Linda, had distracted her about something regarding one of the kids. 

“I’ll be right back,” said Gabby exiting into an adjacent room behind a swinging door. 

Before Jordan could sneak a truffle, Gabby returned with a teapot and sat it close to her. With a blush she said, “thank you for coming. It is not often that I have an occasion to use my great-grandmother’s china.”

Jordan fought a snicker. Why had she sworn to her husband that she would play nice? She desperately wanted to tell Gabby that they weren’t six anymore; nobody fashionable that she knew actually had tea parties. However, Jordan had to admit that it would be nice to have an occasion to indulge in sweet treats every now and then. 

As Gabby poured the tea, she asked, “how are the boys?”

Jordan smiled at the mention of her precious sons. She mentioned how her eldest was a genius, receiving straight A’s on his report card this quarter and the same could be said for the youngest. With a sigh, and after a sip of tea Jordan added, “but that’s not the case with Sean. He wants to be a professional basketball player like his uncle Steven.”

Jordan did not miss how Gabby’s cheeks flushed at the mere mention of Steven’s name. What a poorly kept secret. Jordan fought a frown and bit her tongue. ‘Who did Gabby think she was to deserve a rich and successful man like Steven?’ she wondered. 

“And how is he?” asked Gabby in nearly a whisper.

“Who?” replied Jordan, though she knew exactly who the bashful woman was asking about. 

“Steven,” said Gabby, looking down at her cup of tea. “I heard about his injury and that he's out for the rest of the season.”

“He’s doing quite well actually,” said Jordan as she placed her tea cup on the saucer. “He’s in Miami. I think he’s met someone while down there.”

Jordan made sure to look directly at Gabby when she said this. Gabby fidgeted, but said nothing. Jordan was sure she would have drawn blood with that comment.

“Please, help yourself to some of the food,” gestured Gabby. “These are cucumber sandwiches. Those are roast beef.”

“Actually, I’m not hungry,” lied Jordan. Her stomach roared in revolt of her fib; she ignored it. She could not and would not restrain herself any longer. “What I came here today to tell you is that you should really give up hope about Steven; he would never want to be with the likes of you.”

To Jordan’s surprise, Gabby’s facial expression remained distant and frozen. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean look at you,” said Jordan, pointing at Gabby’s white tee shirt and jeans. “Have you ever looked at social media? You are not the type of woman that men like him go after.”

“Then why don’t you help me?”

Jordan shook her head. “I’m no fairy godmother. Gabby, you live in a fantasy and I am trying to tell you to wake up. Go, find yourself some farmer at one of the neighboring farms. I’m sure you two could have a nice life together.”

“You don’t understand. I love Steven.”

“No you don’t. Maybe you love his fame or his money like every other woman on this planet. Don’t you think I have not noticed your dilapidated house. Isn’t it his money that you need to fix this mess?” Jordan gestured. 

Jordan heard her phone vibrate in her purse.

“Ugh,” she exclaimed. “I need to go.”

Gabby rose to her feet and walked Jordan to the door. Once Jordan was outside, she answered her phone.

“Hello?”

“How did tea go?” her husband asked.

“Horrible.”

“What do you mean.” He paused and added, “What did you do?”

“What did I do?,” shouted Jordan once in the privacy of her car. “I don’t understand why you are desperate for her to be with your brother. It will never work. By the way, have you seen her house?”

“Yes, I know all about it. Steven sent her some money.”

“See! She’s using him.”

“No. She refused his offer to help. He had to send it anonymously.”

“Well —” Jordan did not know what to say. 

“We’ll talk when you get home,” her husband said, and hung up.