The Price of Paradise: Part 2

A tall, aggressively-beautiful woman entered the room. 

She took Tom’s chair. Tom took a seat in the corner.

Was Tom in trouble?

The woman introduced herself as Fiona (no relationship to Shrek) and gave us a bone-chilling smile.

Fiona had the air of Cruella de Vil, but without the fur.

Or puppies.

(Sidenote: I could use an emotional support puppy right now.)

“January and Steve, I’m sure Tom told you how quickly these units are selling, and we don’t want you to miss out,” Fiona said.

She whipped out a notepad and began scribbling a series of numbers, many of which she circled and underlined at a ferocious pace like some deranged accountant.

“You can pay the full amount (Circle!), or we can do a payment plan (Underline!), and let’s not forget about all the bonus points (Two circles and an arrow!).”

“Thank you, but we’re going to pass,” Steve said.

Fiona didn’t miss a beat.

At a rapid-fire pace, she threw out names of other places where we could own. “The Big Island! Oahu! Orlando!”

“Holland will love the waterslide there,” Tom interjected.

(Hey, Buddy, Holland can’t even swim,* so stop sending her down the waterslide.)

“And if you go in May or October, it’ll cost you less points,” Fiona said.

“Of course, you’ll have to take Holland out of school,” Tom said.

Now Holland’s a truant. 

Thanks a lot, Tom.

“I don’t think so,” Steve said.

“However, for a much lower price, you can just purchase points that gives you access to our amazing hotels all over the world.” Fiona wrote down another number.

I looked at my watch.

Two gazillion hours were finally up!

I turned to Steve, We’re Free!

But Steve was looking at the number. “Hmm,” he said.

Fiona smiled. Tom leaned forward. 

Like sharks, they smelled blood.

Steve looked at me.

Maybe?

I glared back.

Are you insane?

Fiona handed Steve a pen, but before she could get his signature, I said, “Hon, you’re retiring soon, so this wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“We’re not interested,” I told Fiona.

Ignoring me, Fiona started writing again, “I shouldn’t even do this but I’m going to offer you EVEN MORE POINTS (Circle! Circle! Underline! Arrow! Arrow! Arrow!)…”

Tom was still yelling about waterslides.

The room was spinning.

I was on the verge of a timeshare-induced panic attack.

I stood up and hollered, “NO MEANS NO!”

The room became quiet.

Fiona stopped writing. She pursed her lips. “Okay, then.” 

What followed was a long awkward silence. 

After that, Fiona let us know that although they weren’t angry with us, they were disappointed. She also said she hoped we wouldn’t regret this decision. But we probably would. 

Before handing us our timeshare detention sheet, Fiona said, “Just like Darryl.”

Tom nodded. “Poor Darryl.”

The two of them looked to the Heavens.

Oh, God. Did they kill Darryl?

Are they going to kill us too and bury our bodies in the spacious 2-bedroom with the partial ocean view?

“Darryl had an opportunity to buy a prime ocean view unit in 2017, but he didn’t,” Fiona explained, her eyes boring into mine. “Now all he can afford is a garden view at the Best Western.”

Hallelujah, Darryl’s alive!

Reluctantly Fiona handed over the pen.

The Weakest Link and I frantically signed our Timeshare Detention Sheet.

Tom walked us down the hall.

He wasn’t as chatty as earlier.

Steve and I stared straight ahead, our hearts pounding. I had visions of Fiona finding a loophole in the contract, chasing us down, and making us return for another presentation.

It wasn’t until we opened the exit door, and warm air touched my cheek, did I finally breathe.

As we hurried off, Tom called out, “Have a good day!”

Or, was it…

“YOU’LL RUE THE DAY!”

*Tom would have known that if he had read my story, One ★ Swimming