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“Yeah. She’s a part of it.” She fell silent. “But there’s other stuff too.”
“Like?” I pressed.
“Wanting what I can’t have.”
“What can’t you have?”
There was a beep on the other line.
“Jazz, that’s me. I have to take this call.”
“Is it Slash?”
“No. I think it’s another catering gig.”
“Yay! Money to fix the van…”
I snorted. “Talk to you in a bit.” I switched over to the other call. “Hello?”
“Hello, I’m trying to reach Brooklyn Palmer.”
“This is she,” I said.
“Ms. Palmer,” the man continued. “My name is Paul Thornton. I’m a branch manager at Sunrise Trust and Credit Union.”
“Yes?”
“I tried to get a hold of you a few days ago and left a voicemail, but I’m not sure you received it.”
I quickly searched my memory. I’d been getting a lot of phone calls over the last several days due to new catering prospects, and there was a very good chance his call had slipped through the cracks.
“What’s this about?” I asked, trepidation swarming in my stomach.
“Your loan repayment for the building.”
“I’m up to date on my loan payments. I just paid this month’s a few days ago.”
“We have no record of your payment in our system.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your payment for this month is overdue.”
“This has to be an oversight. A glitch in your system.”
“I’m sure it is. If you’ll come in tomorrow, we can get this sorted.”
“I’ll come in tomorrow morning. Thank you.” I hung up and stared at my phone for a moment. The door to the bathroom opened and a woman came in, looked at me in confusion, and then headed for a stall.
I shoved my phone back into my purse and left the bathroom. The Old Ladies had already dived into their plates of food.
“There you are,” Mia said. “We were about to send a search party.”
“Sorry.” I sat and picked up my fork.
“You okay?” Joni asked.
“Yeah, why?”
