The Breaking Point. Mariella Starr

good deal, and they even took the old wreck as a trade-in.’ You handed me the keys, and I didn’t get one single word of input on what I wanted to drive.”

      “Ouch!” Ales said, wincing, and he sat beside her on the bed. “I did do that, didn’t I? In my defense, your car had left you sitting on the side of the road three times in three weeks. Even the mechanic said there was no hope of resurrecting it, without spending a lot more money than it was worth. It was unreliable, and an accident waiting to happen.”

      “I know, but it still wasn’t right,” Faith said. She didn’t want to heap any more guilt on her husband, although she was going to make her position clear. “It was my car. I should have had a say in what I drive. It was blue!”

      “What’s wrong with blue?”

      “How long have you lived with me?” Faith asked with exasperation. “What color do I constantly veto? I’m an artist, and I love color, but what color will I not wear or use for decorating or much of anything, except as a tiny accent?”

      “Blue,” he answered. “You don’t like the color blue.”

      “Specifically royal blue, or anything close to it,” Faith said. “What color was the Subaru?”

      “Blue,” Ales admitted reluctantly. “Blue, and gray, with a blue interior.”

      “Royal blue,” Faith said in a disgusted tone of voice. “There are a thousand shades of blue, you could have picked, and I would have been okay with it. You picked a vehicle that was royal blue. I was offended every time I got into the driver’s seat! I used to have wishful daydreams of someone running into it and totaling it. Those dreams weren’t of me being inside it at the time, of course. They were more like someone running into it in a parking lot when it was empty.”

      “I get it. At the time, it was a good bargain, and I wasn’t thinking about your color sensibilities.” He raised his hand when her eyes flashed with temper.

      “I’m not making fun of your color issues. I’ll stay out of it, except for the mechanics, the safety issues, and bargaining for it. It’s your car, you get to choose it,” Ales said. “Thanks to our living in a ‘fault-based’ state, the insurance company has already settled. Our lawyer took care of that by threatening them with a lawsuit. Considering the severity of your injuries and their problematic client whom they hadn’t canceled from her insurance policy yet, they didn’t have a leg to stand on. The personal injury money is yours. You can save it, or use it however you want.”

      “That’s not how we do things,” Faith said. “We share, and it was quite substantial. I still can’t believe they hadn’t canceled her auto insurance. I’m sure someone lost their job over that snafu. I think I would like to put part of the money toward the cost of my degree. I get a discount because I teach there, but it’s still going to be a whopping bill.”

      “Nope,” Ales said, shaking his head. “You quit your studies to help pay for mine. I’m paying for yours, or more correctly, we are paying for them together from our shared finances. It’s fair, Faith. What you do with the personal injury settlement is your business. I wasn’t the one hurt.”

      “We’re in this together,” Faith said. “Okay, how about we use the replacement costs for the Subaru against the new vehicle, and I bank the settlement for now. We can decide on what to do with it later.”

      “I can agree to that,” Ales said. “We never have taken your dream vacation to the British Isles, Ireland, and Scotland. Come on, I’ll drive you to the car lots, and you get to decide what you want, within reason.”

      “Who gets to determine what is reasonable?”

      “Don’t push it,” he growled, and he gave her a stinging swat across her bottom.

      “Faith, choose one,” Ales said later the next afternoon. He sounded frustrated because he was. He was standing in the hot sun, and dripping with sweat in the high humidity. They had been on the car lots for two days. “We’ve test-driven sixteen vehicles. You’ve taken notes on every one of them. Please, make a decision.”

      “Don’t exaggerate! I’ve driven twelve cars. Can’t we come back later? Give me time to go through my notes and think about it?”

      “Fine, but you’re the one who is going to be without a car to get around. We promised Ricco we’d take him to the Orioles game tonight. I had to pull a lot of strings to get those tickets, and they cost a fortune.

      “The car lots are closed on Sunday, and for the 4^th of July holiday. I have to return to work Tuesday morning. You’re going to be stuck without a vehicle until Friday or Saturday of next week, because my first week is going to be hell. Then we can spend the next weekend driving to these same lots again. By then, the cars you are interested in will have been sold.”

      Faith walked off, somewhat frustrated herself. “Asshole,” she grumbled.

      “What was that?” Ales demanded with a frown.

      “I didn’t say anything,” Faith denied. “It’s between the seafoam green one here or the pearl gold at the last dealership.”

      “Why is it between those two vehicles? Is it because you like the features of the vehicles or because you like the colors?” Ales asked.

      “Both. I like the built-in GPS with the back-up screen in the seafoam green the best. The gray interior won’t show wear and tear when it’s loaded with kids and sports equipment,” she said. “It also has three rows of seats, and the two back seats fold out of the way for hauling stuff. We can also add fog lights as an option, and I think that’s important considering we have fog almost every morning, from fall through the spring months.”

      “That makes more sense than picking a car by color,” Ales said approvingly, and he ignored the look of frustration she gave him. “I think that’s it then. You are about to become the owner of a slightly used Toyota Sequoia. Good choice.”

      Ales walked over to the salesman who had been standing to the side while they discussed the deal. Faith didn’t like negotiating over anything, even at a yard sale. She loved a good price, but she wasn’t going to haggle for it.

      The salesman shook her husband’s hand and walked off toward the showroom, and she joined Ales.

      “Let’s go sign the paperwork,” he said to Faith.

      As they were walking across the lot, Ales leaned over and whispered into his wife’s ear. “That disrespectful name-calling is going to cost you. I think a spanking is long overdue.”

      “What?” Faith exclaimed.

      “You know the rules,” Ales said firmly. “Tonight, you get a refresher course.”

      Faith sat outside in the large sitting area of the showroom. She let Ales do the haggling on large purchases, mostly because she hated doing it herself. She sat in a soft, comfortable chair and wondered if she’d be sitting this easy later. Returning to the principles by which they had lived earlier in their marriage wasn’t going to be easy. She looked around at the sea of new or slightly used vehicles.

      When they’d first met, both of them had been driving beat-up used models, which Ales and his friends had managed to keep running after every breakdown. Since they’d married, they had managed to buy slightly used vehicles or dealer test drive models, with low mileage, but with a significant reduction in price. One fundamental concept, Faith and Ales had agreed upon when they married, was keeping their debts low, and living within their means. They knew far too many students who were drowning in debt.

      A windfall from an elderly great-uncle of the Benedetti family had helped Ales and his sisters, ease into adulthood. It had given both Jill and Carrie down payments for purchasing their homes. It had allowed Ales the collateral he needed to start his architecture firm, and they had a nest egg when it was necessary to use it.

      When