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Andre shook his head, moving his hands to his hips. His grin widened. “Next time, I’ll know your tricks and beat you.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” She laughed, heading into her house.
***
Later that afternoon, Mia arrived at The Lighthouse Inn. She carried in a small box of supplies while Jasmine held the door open for her.
“Hi, Mia. I’m so glad you could come over. Zoey’s napping, so it worked out perfectly,” Jasmine said, closing the door behind them. The foyer was open and simple, with white paneled walls and polished wood floors.
“I’m just glad to have something to do and get out of the house,” Mia said, following her friend up the grand staircase. “This inn is beautiful.”
“Thank you. I used to help take care of the woman who lived here before. She didn’t run it as an inn, but I always saw the potential. You should have seen it before Mikel and Andre redid it. It was an eyesore. I have pictures,” Jasmine said.
“I’d love to. Do you have any guests now?”
Jasmine nodded. The top of the staircase went in two different directions, winding around in a circle with several closed doors. Each door had a sign on it—Seabreeze, Star fish, Anchor, and The Lighthouse Suite. Jasmine turned left to the door marked private.
“Yes, two rooms are occupied at the moment. I have four up and running, then one for Zoey and me to share for now. The other room here isn’t redone yet. Waiting on the money to do that. There are another couple large rooms downstairs that I eventually want to turn into my own living space for Zoey and me—away from the guest rooms, like a separate part of the house. But, for now, this will do.” Jasmine opened the room where Zoey’s little body was sprawled out in the crib, her tiny chest rising and falling. Her rosebud lips moved as if she was still suckling.
Mia’s chest tightened. I want that. It was a shame she’d likely never have it. The ache in her heart intensified. “This is amazing, truly.”
Jasmine looked down and shrugged. “I want to give my baby girl a safe home with stability. I figured this would be something that I would enjoy while also being able to keep her close to me.”
“You are such a great mother.” Mia smiled.
Jasmine’s lips quirked up as she sat on the bed. “I never asked. Besides the studio, what do you do for work?”
“Won’t we wake her up by talking in here?” Mia whispered, glancing over to Zoey one more time.
“She sleeps like the dead.” Jasmine laughed lightly. “She’ll be fine as long as we aren’t too loud.”
Mia sat across from Jasmine on the bed, setting the box between them. “I invested as a partner in an app that my friend from college and I developed. Turns out, it was a hit. Six months later, it was a bigger success than either of us imagined. I kept my shares and act as a silent partner now. I just get a check every month for taking that leap and investing my savings because I believed in my friend.”
“Whoa. That’s awesome. Which app, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Mig—it’s an app that allows you to connect with other immigrants, attorneys, and resources specific to your area. People who come here and have nothing, or need jobs, or friends who understand their language and culture now have a way to connect.” It also told them in real time where ICE raids or road blocks are happening, along with listing people’s rights in case they encountered an officer unlawfully asking for their papers. But Mia wasn’t ready to give that much away, so she kept that part to herself.
“That must be really helpful. Growing up, it was just me and my brothers. Mr. and Mrs. Stone were the only parental figures I had. They let me stay over a lot. I lived in poverty,” Jasmine said, her eyes falling to a loose thread on her blue comforter. “But I can’t imagine how hard it would be to be in a different country going through that, not speaking the language. It would feel so unsafe.”
Mia nodded. That was exactly how she’d felt.
Jasmine continued, “I see stuff in the news about illegal immigrants being criminals and overpopulating our country.”
Mia held her breath, unsure where Jasmine was going with this.
Jasmine shook her head. “But everyone I know originally from somewhere outside the United States are the hardest-working and kindest people I’ve ever met.”
Relief flooded through Mia as she let go of the breath she’d been holding.
“I don’t understand the laws, but I do see the farmers losing workers because no one else is willing to do the jobs that need to be done. Immigrants made this country what it is today. Unfortunately, it was built on the backs of black and brown people. We need to do better,” Jasmine said, her voice surer.
“You’re right. I have many friends who followed the law and it got them nowhere.” Myself included. “It’s a flawed system, and it needs to be fixed.”
Jasmine nodded.
“What is your heritage, if you don’t mind me asking?” Mia asked.
“My mother was your average European-American mix, and my father, I’m told, was Korean,” Jasmine answered.
