No Limos Allowed

Single-Serve Therapy

Maisie

"You're kidding," Tessa said. "With no notice at all?"

I sighed. "Nope. Not even a text."

Somehow, we'd ended up on the couch, sipping from tiny single-serve bottles of booze – vodka for her and some peach-flavored mystery for me.

She'd dug out a dozen from her suitcase and offered me first pick. The whole thing was surprisingly nice, and it was giving me a slumber party vibe I'd sorely needed.

Already, I was two bottles in and eyeballing a third – a little blue one lying there all cute and tempting like it had been waiting for me all night.

Snagging it would be quick and easy, too, since Tessa had dumped the whole lot of them onto the coffee table in a jumbled free-for-all. No Moscato. But hey, I wasn't complaining.

In my oversized T-shirt and leggings, I was feeling warm and cozy in spite of the lukewarm shower. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was the company. Maybe it was both. But for the first time in hours, I didn't feel like chucking a bike through a window.

Tessa gave me a sympathetic look. "I can't believe he ghosted you like that."

"Hah! He didn't just ghost me," I said. "He knocked over a bunch of bikes and then – get this – tried to blame it on the wind."

Now she looked ready to laugh. "You're joking."

Was I? Tipsy or not, I had to be fair. "Okay, I'm not really sure who knocked over the bikes, but the wind excuse is totally true." I shook my head. "Do you know, he was my only employee?"

Tessa's amusement faded. "Seriously? I didn't realize you were doing it all alone."

Of course she wouldn't. My fault. Not hers. It's not like I'd been particularly chatty. Plus, I'd been trying really hard not to complain.

And what had that gotten me?

Not a whole lot.

I slumped back against the cushions. "Until this morning, I wasn't all alone.

I mean, I had Trevor." I took a little sip.

"He was smart, dependable, and terrific with the bikes.

When I caught up on bills, I was going to hire another part-timer and then a full-timer, too.

It was all planned." I paused. "Well… loosely planned.

More like scribbled on a napkin and powered by delusion. "

Tessa reached over and gave my arm a tender squeeze. "Hey. You're not delusional."

The squeeze hit home, and I choked out a laugh. "A little delusional. I mean, who looks at an aging bike shop on an island with only seasonal tourist traffic and thinks, 'You know what would be smart? Throwing your entire future into this money pit.'"

Of course, the shop hadn't always been a money pit.

I loved my dad so much it hurt, but numbers weren't his strong suit.

My mom had said as much just before leaving him seven years ago.

At the time, I hadn't quite believed her.

But now, I had plenty of proof in the piles of debt I'd inherited after his fatal heart attack.

Apparently Mom was right. Go figure.

Maybe I'd tell her. Or not.

After all, she'd not only left my dad. She'd left me, too. And years later, I still felt the sting.

With a gentle smile, Tessa said, "You love it, though."

"I do," I said, softer now. "Which is probably why it's gonna kill me. And now I'm my only employee – which wouldn't be so bad if I didn't need like four people to keep the shop running smoothly."

She was staring now. "Wait, you've been doing the work of four people?"

"I wish."

She hesitated. "Sorry, I'm not following."

"I can't do the work of four," I explained. "But I can do the work of two. With Trevor there, it was like having three, which still left me one short to keep the shop humming."

I leaned back and tipped the bottle of mystery peach to my lips only to find it empty. Damn it. I snuck a quick glance at Baby Blue. "And don't get me started on the house."

"The house?" Tessa looked around. "What about it?"

I gestured with the now-empty bottle. "The payments are insane."

Her brow furrowed. "But I thought you owned it outright." Her voice softened. "I mean, your dad left it to you, right?"

At the mention of my dad, I felt tears prick at my eyes. Six months – that's how long he'd been gone. I hadn't even been here when he'd died.

I'd been off in Florida, making some extra cash – and if I were being totally honest, soaking up a few months of sun while the winter turned my island home into a frozen ghost town.

But I should have been here – no matter what Dad had said.

To Tessa, I replied, "Yeah, but…I mean, the house didn't come to me free and clear." This was a massive understatement. Both the house and the bike shop were saddled with so much debt that it would take a miracle to survive my first season on my own, much less pay anything off.

Tessa frowned. "So there's a mortgage?"

I snuck another glance at Baby Blue. "You could say that." I couldn't see Blue's label, but it looked kind of tropical. Tropical was good, right?

Screw it. I snatched up the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a good, long swig. Holy crap. I almost coughed it right back up again. As I caught my breath, I finally looked at the label. Whiskey.

Definitely not tropical.

Damn it. That's what I got for living on the edge.

Tessa eyed me with concern. "You okay?"

"Just peachy," I said on a cough, wishing I had gone for the pink one instead.

"But what about the shop?" she said. "You own that free and clear, right?"

"Not hardly," I scoffed. "I mean, yeah, it was my dad's place, and it's been in the family forever . But the last few years…" I gave a useless shrug. "I guess you could say he ran into a rough patch."

Tessa let out a quiet breath. "Oh."

"Probably, it started with the divorce."

She hesitated. "You were in high school, right?"

"Yup." The memory still chafed. "That's when Grandpa died, and my mom put her foot down."

Tessa reached toward the jumble of bottles and grabbed one of her own – a little white one with a tiny palm tree stamped near the cap. Tropical, definitely. Even in this, she was smarter than me. As she untwisted the cap, she asked, "How so?"

"She was so ready to leave. And I guess she figured that she would finally get her wish…you know, since Grandpa didn't need our help with the shop anymore."

Tessa took a tiny sip from her bottle and leaned back like it tasted of coconut and sunshine, which it probably did. "So, where'd she want to go?"

"For starters, someplace warm." I grimaced at the memory. " And more exciting. She hated the island – said it was too cold, too quiet, and too cut off. But my dad wouldn't budge. He said the shop was in his blood. So, when it became obvious that he would never leave, she up and left him ."

Tessa blinked. "Wow."

Now that I'd started, it all came pouring out.

"And that was just the beginning. To buy her out, he took out a mortgage – even though the house had been in the family for generations.

Then he doubled down on the shop – poured money into flashy upgrades, including a fleet of custom bikes that nobody rents. "

"Why not?"

I took another swig of whiskey and tried not to cough.

"For starters, because they're too expensive to rent for cheap.

And they're a little too…" I searched for the right words and settled on.

"… whimsical for adults. But they're too big for kids.

" Thinking of it, I wanted to groan out loud. "The whole thing is just a mess."

In my mind's eye, I could see all of them – Harley Bike, Viper Bike, the Bumble Burner, the Rocket Racer, the Fudge Flyer, Taco Tuesday, Hot Lava, Disco Inferno, and several more.

We even had a bike named Shark Attack.

They were part of our Eclectic Collection, and each one had cost nearly as much as a car. I loved all of them – truly, I did. But I hated what they'd done to our finances, especially because Dad had seriously downplayed their cost.

Until his death, I'd had no idea they were so expensive.

So far this season, we'd rented exactly one, assuming the guy even showed up tomorrow. It was Trevor who had taken the reservation, so I couldn't be sure of anything.

Tessa smiled. "Yeah, I saw those on your Web site. Don't you have one with donuts?"

"Yeah. Glazed and Confused." I couldn't help but smile back. "That's what my dad named it, anyway."

Her smile turned encouraging. "It looked really fun."

I forced a laugh. "Fun enough to rent? For triple the rate?" The sad truth was, I couldn't rent them for cheaper – not with how expensive they were to insure.

She hesitated. "Um…well…"

"Exactly," I said. "They were supposed to make us stand out. Instead, they nearly sunk us."

Tessa winced. "That bad, huh?"

I nodded. "And to cover all these 'improvements,' he took out another loan – refinanced the house again . I didn't even know until after he died and the debt collectors started calling."

Maybe I was oversharing. But I couldn't seem to stop.

"So a couple of months ago, I got this consolidation loan – putting everything together, but the payments are insane.

And it was only for a limited term, so I'll have to redo everything at the end of summer.

The bank made it sound easy, but sometimes, I still get a little nervous – like what if they don't renew it? I'll probably need to move."

Yup, I was definitely oversharing.

Sure, I could blame the booze, but the truth was, I'd been feeling overwhelmed for weeks. No, months . And there was no way I'd be telling all this to my mom. Sure, she'd be sympathetic, but I knew exactly what she'd be thinking. I told you so.

Knowing Mom, she'd say it, too.

Right now, this was the last thing I wanted to hear.

Next to me, Tessa looked around like the whole living room had gained new weight. Quietly, she said, "I figured this place was yours free and clear."

Now that was hilarious. "Sure," I laughed. "And next week I'm buying a yacht."

"Uh, yeah..." Tessa shifted on the couch. "I guess I was being stupid, huh?"

I snorted. "You, stupid? I doubt it. Delaney always said you were the smart one." Of course, Delaney had never said this as a compliment, but this was better left unmentioned.

Tessa took a long swig from her bottle before muttering, "Trust me, I'm not that smart."

"Well you're definitely smarter than I am."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." But then her expression turned earnest. "Back to the shop…you'll work it out, right?"

It was a nice thought, but I considered the source. Tessa was good at everything. She might be sipping from single-serve bottles like the rest of us, but she lived in a totally different world.

The only thing that didn't fit was her current job – something that made zero sense for someone with her credentials.

But hey, who was I to judge? I had a business degree, and I spent most of my days tangling with tourists and bike chains.

I replied, "Sure, if I can actually keep an employee."

"Oh, come on," she said. "You'll find someone."

"Like I haven't tried. The pay isn't too terrible. But it's not terrific either. I mean, I want to pay more, but I can't…not until I'm more caught up."

She was quiet for a beat and then sat up straighter on the couch. "Hey, I know. I'll quit my job and help at the shop."

I almost laughed out loud. Was that the liquor talking? "Oh, stop it."

But Tessa wasn't laughing. "I'm serious. I mean, it's not like I'd be quitting my dream job or anything."

The offer was beyond thoughtful, and I felt my eyes grow just little misty. But things weren't that simple.

Sure, she and I were getting along now, but I'd heard plenty of horror stories from Delaney. Plus, Tessa would hate to get her hands dirty. She'd be miserable, and I'd feel guilty – even if she was living at my place.

Still, I was touched by the offer – so touched that I wanted to cry. I gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks…I mean it. But if I'm going to beg someone for help, it should be someone who can fix a bike."

It was a tall order. I mean, I could fix a bike, but I wasn't half as quick as my dad – or Trevor for that matter.

"You're not begging," Tessa said. "I offered."

I glanced down, taking in her flawless manicured nails. She had been living here for nearly a month, and I had never seen her with so much as a smudge, not even on her clothing.

Plus, I had to be practical. "I really appreciate it, honest – but what I really need is someone who can tell a derailleur from a handlebar."

She frowned. "What's a derailleur?"

I toasted her with my bottle. "Exactly!"

This made her snicker. "Fine. But the offer stands if you change your mind." She winked. " Or if you get really desperate for help."

"Hey, you already helped," I said. "The hundred bucks, remember?"

For some reason, this made her groan.

I didn't get it. "What's wrong?"

"The money – if someone comes looking for it, you'd better pretend you don't know me."

I still wasn't following. "Why? It's not like you stole it." I lowered my voice. "I mean, you didn't, did you?"

At this, she actually snorted. The sound was so un-Tessa-like that I started to laugh. Soon, she was laughing again, too.

I wasn't even sure why. We hadn't drunk that much. Had we? My gaze strayed to the table. The pile of bottles was a lot smaller than when we'd started. But hey, those bottles were tiny, right?

I was starting to eyeball that little pink number when she replied, "Nah, it was a tip."

My gaze snapped back to Tessa. "Seriously? Someone tipped you a hundred bucks? At a coffee shop?" Wow, only Golden Girl could pull that off . And for once, I meant that as a compliment.

"Yup." She rubbed her temple. "But now I'm wondering if he's gonna come back and demand a refund." She blew out a long, trembling breath. "If you want the truth, I'm feeling kind of guilty."

"About the tip? Why?"

She lifted the little white bottle to her lips. "Let's just say I didn't really earn it."