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“Yeah, sorry about that.” I wrinkle my nose and clasp my hands together. “But I was right.”

“You were possibly right.”

“Ahh,” I hum. “I’m pretty sure I’m right. It’s pretty clear.”

Minutes later, we pull into the town of Cody. I pick up groceries for an entire two-week menu—something I’ve never done, but something needful when living in Rendezvous. I’m thankful for the money in my checking account. Benjamin was right—my dad won’t support my life here, but I earned a little money in college, and I’ve saved most of it. It would have to do until I got my first RHS paycheck.

After grocery shopping, we fill Logan’s coolers with our cold food items. Time to find my caller ID box. Logan knows a thrift store downtown. He’s assured me there will be a few clothing stores too.

An hour later, I have a few more options to wear to work and an ancient caller ID box, plus an answering machine the thrift store clerk talked me into. He said they were a package deal.

I’m spending all my savings, so it makes sense that the bicycle shop across the street is drawing me in. The sign out front reads: New and Used Bikes!

“Can I talk you into one more stop?” I ask.

But Logan doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. “Where to?”

I nod toward the shop. “Let’s check out that bike store.”

“Do you enjoy riding?”

“I did when I was ten. I haven’t been on a bike in years, but I’d like to have a way to get around town.”

The shop feels bigger on the inside, or maybe it’s because there isn’t another customer in sight. A lone clerk sits behind a counter, an upside-down bicycle in front of him. He spins the back wheel, peering up with the sound of the shop bell. “Hi, there.” He grins, his salt-and-pepper mustache from Civil War times twitching with the gesture.

“Hello.”

“What can I do for ya?” He wipes his hands on a rag, abandoning the spinning wheel to meet us around the counter.

“We might be looking for a bike?” Logan turns to me.

“Yeah.” I drop my shoulders with an exhale. “Maybe. I’m thinking about purchasing a used bike. Just something to get me around town.”

“Hmm,” the man says, pinching the end of his mustache. “A town bike? I had a little mint green thing come in last week.” He holds up one finger. “One second.” He disappears through the door on the back wall, and less than a minute later, he wheels out a pretty green bicycle. “Give her a go.”

“A go?”

“Sure, try her out. See how she feels.” He motions to the brown leather seat of the bike.

So, I sit down. The seat doesn’t even need adjusting. I ride back and forth in the small space of the shop, feeling as though this bike might have been made for me.

“How much?” I’m like a ten-year-old girl with newly found freedom.

“Two-fifty.”

“Two hundred fifty dollars?” I get off and hold it at arm’s length. “Isn’t this a used bike?”

“Yes, it’s also a Gary Crompton in prime condition.”

I have no idea what that means, but I look down at the mint-green bike—in perfect condition. “Would you take a hundred?” I ask, thinking of my savings account that is quickly depleting.

But the man shakes his head. “No.”

“One twenty-five?” How much will my paycheck be again?

His mustache twitches, and he removes his hat to rub his balding head. “Honestly, miss, I’m already giving you a deal.”

“We’ll take it,” Logan says, holding out his own debit card. “Call it a housewarming gift.”