Shopaholic & Sister Read Free Page B

about eight men troop out, carrying a huge carved teak table on their shoulders.
    Wow. It’s a tad bigger than I remembered.
    Luke looks absolutely stunned.
    “Bring the chairs!” Vijay is bossing the men. “Set it up properly!”
    “Isn’t it lovely?” I say in superbright tones.
    “You ordered a dining table and ten chairs . . . without telling me?” says Luke, goggling as the chairs arrive.
    OK. I don’t have many options here.
    “It’s . . . my wedding present to you!” I say with sudden inspiration. “It’s a surprise! Happy wedding, darling!” I plant a kiss on his cheek and smile hopefully up at him.
    “Becky, you already gave me a wedding present,” says Luke, folding his arms. “And our wedding was a fairly long time ago now.”
    “I’ve been . . . saving it up!” I lower my voice so Vijay can’t hear. “And honestly, it isn’t that expensive . . .”
    “Becky, it’s not the money. It’s the space! This thing’s a monstrosity!”
    “It’s not
that
big. And anyway,” I quickly add before he can reply, “we need a good table! Every marriage needs a good table.” I spread my arms widely. “After all, what is marriage about if not sitting down at the table at the end of the day and sharing all our problems? What is marriage, if not sitting together at a solid wooden table and . . . and eating a bowl of hearty stew?”
    “Hearty stew?” echoes Luke. “Who’s going to make hearty stew?”
    “We can buy it at Waitrose,” I explain.
    I come round the table and look up at him earnestly. “Luke, think about it. We’ll never again be in Sri Lanka with authentic wood-carvers right in front of us. This is a unique opportunity. And I’ve had it personalized!”
    I point to the panel of wood running down the side of the table. There, beautifully carved in among the flowers, are the words
Luke and Rebecca, Sri Lanka, 2003
.
    Luke runs a hand over the table. He feels the weight of one of the chairs. I can see him relenting. Then suddenly he looks up with a slight frown.
    “Becky, is there anything else you’ve bought that you haven’t told me about?”
    I feel a nervous flip inside, which I disguise by pretending to examine one of the carved flowers.
    “Of course not!” I say at last. “Or . . . you know. Maybe just the odd little souvenir along the way. Just here and there.”
    “Like what?”
    “I can’t remember!” I exclaim. “It’s been ten months, for goodness’ sake!” I look at the table again. “Come on, Luke, you
must
love it. We can have fantastic dinner parties . . . and it’ll be an heirloom! We can hand it down to our children—”
    I break off a bit awkwardly. For a moment I can’t quite look at Luke.
    A few months ago we had this huge big discussion and decided that we’d like to try for a baby. But so far nothing’s happened.
    I mean, not that it’s a big deal or anything. It will happen. Of course it will.
    “All right,” says Luke, his voice a little gentler. “You’ve won me over.” He gives the table a pat, then looks at his watch. “I’m going to e-mail the office, tell them about our change of plans.” He gives me a wry look. “Presumably you weren’t expecting me to burst open the door of the boardroom and yell ‘Surprise, I’m back!’?”
    “Of course not!” I retort, barely missing a beat.
    That is, actually, kind of what I’d pictured. Except I’d be there too, with a bottle of champagne and maybe some party poppers.
    “I’m not quite that stupid,” I add witheringly.
    “Good.” Luke grins at me. “Why don’t you order us some drinks and I’ll be out in a moment.”
     
     
    As I sit down at a table on the shady terrace, I’m just a tad preoccupied. I’m trying to remember all the things I’ve bought and had shipped home without telling Luke.
    I mean, I’m not worried or anything. It can’t be
that
much stuff. Can it?
    Oh God. I close my eyes, trying to remember.
    There were the wooden giraffes in Malawi. The ones