Bailey hums in understanding. “Can I try it on?”
“Sure. Just don’t get it stuck.”
She slides the ring up her right ring finger but it’s too big. She slips it on the middle one and it’s perfect.
“I wanted to ask you about that too.”
Bailey is too busy staring at the ring and twisting her hand back and forth. Then she blinks up at me. “Sorry, what?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I’ve never talked to any of my friends about money, and it was always such a sore subject in my house. “When I sell the ring, that would give me enough money to help buy the lodge. And I know, you and Silas have already said you are in, so you’re not entirely unbiased here. But you’re also—I think—one of the most financially smart people I know.”
Bailey puts her hand down. “How do you figure that?”
I tick my fingers off. “Good job in the city plus being able to buy into the lodge. You probably have a 401(k). The rest of us are hot messes.”
She frowns. “You’re not a hot mess. You live in a small town. Things are different here.”
“Exactly my point. So . . . what do you think I should do? Should I buy into the lodge? Or is that a dumb idea?”
Bailey frowns and then pelts me with a ton of questions. Some of them I have rough answers to—how much I’ve saved up, what the estimated costs are of opening my own bar—and some of them make me feel really dumb—no, I don’t have a retirement account and yes, I do have credit card debt. I have to pull out my laptop and we hunch over looking at numbers together.
What really gets us is that if I buy my own bar, I’m starting from scratch. I’d be competing with whoever bought the lodge (if they keep it running) and outside of Herevians, I’d have to build up my new bar’s reputation. I’d have to get a new liquor permit, too, and a whole slew of other stuff that’s tabled to worry about until I have the money.
Which is now, I guess.
“So.” Bailey finally leans back and crosses her arms. “To be honest, the smart thing would be to invest the money.”
My heart sinks, and Bailey points at me.
“That’s what I really wanted to know. That’s disappointing to you, and that probably tells us more than the numbers do.” She pivots in her chair, facing me head-on. “Moving out to Here wasn’t a smart financial decision for me. I worked really hard over the years to get raises and promotions, to always be at the table, and to take every extra assignment I could. I know that I’m leaving money behind by living here and working remotely. When the Zoom meetings end, all the people in the room keep talking and I’m left out of that conversation. Even more so than I already was as a woman in a man’s field.”
“Right. Loving Silas wasn’t a head move, it was a heart move.”
“Exactly. So if you’re going to sell the ring instead of keep it, even if it doesn’t make financial sense, you’ll want your own bar. And the lodge might be the best way to do that.” She grins slyly. “As long as you’re willing to have Hunter, me, and Silas as business partners.”
I should focus on the business partners part. But instead my brain snags on the first thing she says. “Keep the ring?”
Bailey slides it off her finger and holds it out to me. “Yeah. It’s beautiful and a family heirloom. Someday when you propose you might wish you’d kept it.”
I pinch the band of the ring between my fingers and stare down at it. I’ve never thought about proposing to anyone before, but it hits me that I have in my hands the possibility of one of the best pranks I’ve ever pulled.
God, Rory’s going to laugh her ass off at me.
Rory
* * *
It’s been a hell of a fucking day. No—two days. I’ve been here since Saturday morning when I got the call that Grandma wasn’t feeling well.
The community Grandma lives in has medical facilities in addition to the assisted living, hospice area, and independent living, where Grandma lives.
For now.
She’s got a fever. The doctors have run a few tests and they think it’s viral, which means there’s not much to do other than treat the symptoms and let her body take care of it.
I’m sitting in one of the chairs next to Grandma’s hospital bed, reading, while she sleeps. It’s five forty in the evening. On a Sunday. If this was a regular Sunday visit, I’d be speeding toward Morgan’s bar right now.
On the bed, Grandma shifts and her eyes blink open. “Deborah?” Her voice is muffled through the mask.