Beautiful.
I had requested strawberry shortcake on every birthday since I was seven.
Mom smiled proudly.
“I remembered you love chocolate.”
I looked at the cake.
“Looks great.”
“See?” Mom said. “I still remember some things.”
I smiled.
“Thanks.”
The wrong cake should not have mattered.
It did a little.
But Darcy had apparently researched it.
That mattered too.
The visit began well.
I gave them a short tour.
Dad asked about the highway.
Mom admired the floors.
Darcy asked about appliances.
The girls inspected every room.
Back in the living room, we ate cake.
Dad told a story about coaching youth baseball.
I laughed harder than expected.
Then he looked directly at me.
“So. Regional Clinical Manager.”
He got the title right.
“How many people?”
“Twelve.”
“Across North Carolina?”
“Three states.”
His eyebrows rose.
“That’s significant.”
For once, somebody asked about the job.
Mom wanted to know how often I traveled.
Darcy asked whether I liked managing people.
For fifteen minutes, I felt like the visit I had imagined for two years might actually be happening.
Then Mom looked around.
“I still can’t believe you bought this and didn’t tell us.”
“It never came up.”
Darcy glanced toward the windows.
“Jovi says this neighborhood is expensive.”
“It can be.”
“What’s the mortgage?”
“It fits my budget.”
Mom tilted her head.
“What does a regional manager make?”
“Enough.”
Darcy smiled.
“Big HOA?”
“Manageable.”
“How much did you put down?”
The questions accelerated.
I placed my untouched cake on the coffee table.
“The condo works for me.”
Everyone went quiet.
“That’s about as detailed as I want to get.”
Darcy looked at Mom.
Then at the girls.
“Sable, Theda, take your activities into the second bedroom.”
Sable immediately looked suspicious.
“Why?”
“The adults need to talk.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
The girls disappeared down the hallway.
Mom leaned forward.
“Darcy is having trouble.”
I looked at my sister.
The confidence she used online disappeared.
“The store isn’t working.”
The physical location had been open eight months.
Online sales continued.
But walk-in traffic never matched Darcy’s projections.
The storefront added rent.
Utilities.
Insurance.
Payroll.
Inventory.
Display fixtures.
Darcy had already decided to close it.
“I can shut the doors.”
She rubbed her hands together.
“That part is decided.”
“The lease?”
“That’s the problem.”
She had personally guaranteed it.
The landlord was discussing an early termination.
There were vendor invoices.
Payroll obligations.
Taxes.
Remaining rent.
Inventory.
Fixtures.
Darcy estimated the total remaining exposure at roughly thirty-nine thousand dollars.
“I can cover maybe nine.”
She looked at me.
“That leaves about thirty.”
The room became quiet.
“I need a loan, Linnea.”
There it was.
Thirty thousand dollars.
Mom said:
“You’re the most financially stable person in the family.”
Dad rubbed the back of his neck.
“We’ve already helped as much as we’re comfortable doing from retirement savings.”
Darcy leaned forward.
“I didn’t want to ask.”
I believed her.
“But if I get out of the storefront, online sales can support the business again.”
My old reflex came back immediately.
Fix it.
I started asking questions.
“Do you have the landlord’s number in writing?”
“Not final.”
“Vendors?”
“Most agreed to ninety days.”
“Fixtures?”
“Selling them.”
“Inventory?”
“Clearance on some. Rest back to online.”
“Employees?”
“I can cover final payroll.”
Her answers were organized.
She had been working on the problem.
Then I heard myself turning her store closure into my next project.
I stopped.
“I need to think.”
Darcy stiffened.
Mom said:
“Of course.”
I walked into my bedroom.
Closed the door.
Then the bargaining began.
Fifteen thousand.
Half.
Maybe half the money meant half the family pressure.
Maybe I could keep everybody happy without giving the full amount.
I sat on the bed.
My hands shook.
From the hallway, I heard Theda laughing.
I pressed my palms against my knees.
Waited.
Slowly, my breathing settled.
Then the answer became obvious.
I did not want my money involved.
Not five thousand.
Not fifteen.
Not thirty.
I returned to the living room.
Nobody was talking.
I sat down.
“I thought about it.”
Darcy looked up.
“I’m not lending you the money.”
She stared.
“Any of it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want my money involved in your business.”
“It’s a loan.”
“I understand.”