Instead, I was here in Michigan with two suitcases, a burner phone, and enough tropical booze to stock my own tiki bar.
But forget that.Here and now, I needed to get to the bottom of the rent situation. I couldn't afford to be evicted, because for one thing, what would happen to my stuff?
I needed a lifeline and fast.Reluctantly, I said, "So, hey…can I ask a favor?"
Her tone turned wary. "What kind of favor?"
"Could you – I mean, if it's not too much trouble – find a way to pay the rent? Like…I'm sure if you wrote a check, it would be fine."
She literally scoffed. "With what money?"
Yes, I realized she had problems of her own, but her reaction still stung. "Well…what about the money I loaned you last Christmas? Maybe…you could pay me back that way?"
"With what?" she said again.
It was a good question. But I had no answer – not unless I wanted to snidely point out that her little shopping trip might've been enough to cover at least some of the repayment.
But the last thing I needed now was another fight.
Plus, I actually felt sorry for her.
Unlike my dad, who made a decent living as a professor, Mom had never worked outside the home. She hadn't needed to, thanks to her great-grandfather, who'd made a fortune in timber. But that was a long time ago, and she was no Vanderbilt or Astor.
And even if she were, it's not like she'd been the lone heiress.
Over the past few decades, the fortune had been split at least a dozen ways, leaving Mom with expensive tastes and dwindling funds.
Finally, like a thief in the night, the money was gone.
That was nearly three years ago, but she was still working hard to keep up appearances. But the fall was coming, and we both knew it.Or maybe that was only me.
Even so, I could've really used that three thousand dollars. Even when I'd loaned it to her last Christmas, it's not like I'd been swimming in cash.
I swallowed hard as I yanked open the fridge and spotted not Ryder Vaughn – thank God – but a bottle of wine already open.Moscato.
NotmyMoscato. Not my fridge either, even if I did use it to store groceries – whenever I had any, that is.
Skip didn't pay me a wage, but Ididget to eat whatever I wanted at the shop. It sounded good in theory, until you realized you couldn't survive on coffee and pastries alone.
On the phone, my mom's question – the one about helping with the rent – hung heavy between us.With what?
I shut the fridge and deliberately turned away from Maisie's Moscato. She and I weren't those kinds of roommates. We didn'tshare wine, groceries, or secrets. Mostly, we avoided each other like exes at a wedding.
Finally, it was my mom who broke the silence. "Can't you just transfer it from Miami? Theydohave banks there, I presume?"
Suddenly, I realized something that should've hit me sooner. "Wait a minute. YouknewI wasn't there."
"In Miami?"
"No. In Chicago."
She paused. "Yeah, so?"
"So why would you stop by my apartment? It's not like you have a key."
"But Ishouldhave a key. You know…for emergencies. We talked about this."
She was changing the subject.It was vintage Mom, but I refused to be distracted. "So?" I prompted. "Why'd you stop by?"
