Chapter 5: Standing My Ground

The next meeting, Marcus actually took off work to join me. He burst in, suit jacket slung over his arm, coffee in hand, playing the attentive husband. Lillian and her assistant spread out sample boards, fabric swatches, and tried to sell me on their vision. “It’s a beautiful vision, Mrs. Hayes!” the assistant chirped.

Before I could get a word in, Marcus jumped in: “It’s great—simple and elegant. I think it’s really good. Let’s go with this version.” He shot a quick glance at Lillian. She didn’t look back, but her smile froze, the room suddenly too small.

I pushed aside the contract. My voice didn’t shake. Not this time. “I’m not satisfied.”

I’d done my homework, seen the same cookie-cutter designs all over Instagram. “This is almost identical. I want something that feels like us, not just a magazine spread.”

It was nice, but not worth the price. I did the math in my head—kitchen upgrades, a vacation, maybe a new car.

When I said this, Lillian looked at Marcus. He fidgeted, tapping his wedding band on the table.

Marcus squeezed my hand a little too tight. “Babe, what are you not satisfied with? Sometimes the renderings don’t tell the whole story—the real effect is what matters.”

“Aren’t you being too picky about the details?”

I crossed my arms, jaw set. I wasn’t backing down.

The assistant chimed in, “Yes, Mr. Hayes knows what he’s talking about. The final look is what matters most. Lillian is our senior designer, with plenty of experience.”

I shook my head. “No means no. Here, and here—I don’t like either.” I circled the offending parts with a red Sharpie.

Marcus tried to argue, but I cut him off. “Didn’t you say our first house should be treated with care? If I’m picky, what’s wrong with that?”

I turned to Lillian. “Lillian, your company’s fee isn’t a hundred thousand, or fifty thousand—it’s a million. That’s about a thousand dollars per square foot. I want to see where every penny goes. Besides, I made my preferences clear from the start. Why do you think you can just do two versions and I’ll sign?”

Lillian’s face soured. She pursed her lips, closed her laptop with a snap. Marcus’s jaw clenched. Lillian finally forced a smile. “Alright, I’ll hurry and revise another version.”

The room fell silent except for the air conditioning. For once, I felt like I’d actually been heard—even if only out of obligation.