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“I know.”
“This is harder than I’d expected, Mom. The insurance company has completely refused to work with me. The building owner is donating the property to the city for the tax write-off. I have nothing left, and I don’t know what to do.”
She takes a beat, then says, “I’m not sure who coined it, but someone once said that when even you have nothing, you have a world of possibilities.”
“Did they say that on a greeting card or one of those kitten posters from the nineties?”
“Mock all you like, but I think it’s true. At least, that’s what I tell myself every time I think about the Macmillan Resort coming to town.”
Right. I’m not the only one with problems.“Are you and Dad going to be okay when that happens? Money-wise, I mean.”
“That really depends on how it impacts us here. It would be easy to say we’re going under, but some people still want a cozier atmosphere. The resort won’t have that.” She sighs, glancing around my room. “Hopefully, enough people will still want what we have here.”
“Hospitality is never a sure thing,” I murmur.
“No, it’s not. But what business is? Even doctors close up shop sometimes.” She shrugs. “It’s the nature of life.”
I put my arm around her soft shoulders. “I suppose the only thing we can do is to be flexible.”
“Indeed. And on that note, ask Aria if she knows of any job openings. I know you’re not ready to get back—
“No, I am not.”
She smiles. “Well, you need a job, and she might just know of one.”
“I’ll be sure to ask.”
“And if you want to borrow anything of mine to wear when you go out, you’re more than welcome to.”
I frown. “Why would I do that?”
“Because chef clothes are weird.”
“Not for chefs.”
She smiles, but it’s sad. “Sweetie, technically, you’re not a chef anymore.”
“Punch me while I’m down, why don’t you?”
“It’skickme while I’m down—
“No, that felt like a punch, right in the gut.”
She gives me half a hug. “Sorry. But seriously, the veggie pants need to go. You dress like a cartoon character, dear.”
I almost counter that I got picked up in my veggie pants. But then I remember I’d lied about where I was that night. “I’ll think about it. No promises, though.”
“It’s all I ask.”
4
Lily
Billingsley Academy’s parking lot is nicer than most people’s driveways. Everything is smooth, the lines are fresh, and the landscaping is precise, not a weed or flower out of place. The building is a two-story red brick mass of overconfidence, complete with crisp white shutters. Each detail screams pricy and snobby. In short, it’s the kind of place I could never belong to even if I tried, so whatever jobs Aria might know of are out of my league.
Class is letting out for the day, and at any other school, that would have meant a war brewing in the parking lot. Not so at Billingsley. Instead, they have people directing traffic, so everyone gets a parking space and the pickup line is in order of when each grade lets out. Organized, efficient, and yeah, I could never work here.
My kitchen was always that way, but I never saw the reason to put in that kind of effort for anything else. A kitchen must be able to turn food fast, even in a fine dining atmosphere. An elementary school is packed full of kids who run on their own timetables. But sitting in the parking lot, I am impressed by how well-behaved all the kids are. They line up for their exit, uniforms still pristine from the day.
