Chapter Fourteen
Ava
That Monday evening, speakers blaring and armed with my Dad’s old Billboard Top 100 CDs and Led Zeppelin IV in reserve, I made the three-hour drive to Indy. I offered to come on my day off and help Jules pack up some of her stuff and drive a load of it back with me tomorrow night. I’d been to the city before, of course, what with it only being a few hours away and hosting all sorts of big events. My Dad had even taken us to a Colts game once when I was in high school. But I didn’t love the city, not like Gianna or Viv or even Jules.
The traffic made me want to scream. Tractors chugging down the country road and making me slow down to a gentle roll? Fine. I got it. Amish buggies trotting in front of me with horses? Sure. Honestly, even growing up in Amish country it still tickled me every time I saw a horse-drawn buggy. I even get less irritated with the goose parade that happens every February at the lakes when our feathered friends come back from Canada.
But the drivers in the city always seemed so rude, in such a hurry, and somehow there was always an accident or a jam. Or construction. God, I hated road construction around Indy.
Luckily, I-465, the giant highway that circled the city, was somehow not under construction this time around. I pulled into Jules’s apartment complex just before nine-thirty, shouting along to Bon Jovi at the top of my lungs. Dad would’ve been equal parts proud and horrified.
“I’ll put on Jethro Tull on the way home to balance things out,” I promised aloud. I didn’t know if I actually believed he could hear me or not, but it made me feel better to talk to him and my mom regardless.
A squeal—the same one we made every time we got together—sounded from the sidewalk in front of me when I opened the door, running to give Jules a hug even though she’d only been gone a day this time.
“How was the drive?” she asked. “Did you eat dinner? I can order you dinner. Do you want pizza or Chinese?”
I shook my head, smiling. “The drive was fine and I’m fine,” I assured her, popping the trunk of my parents’ Toyota Sienna and grabbing my suitcase. “I ate before I left, and I brought snacks on the road. Let’s go out tomorrow when we have more time. I’m good for now.”
“Sorry,” she laughed, “I’m just so glad you’re here. I’m ready to get this party started.”
“Well, I brought wine.”
She spun toward me, the white tips of her hair reflecting the bright moonlight. “Sangria?”
“Of course,” I scoffed. “I want you to let me stay, after all.”
I followed Jules into the apartment building, taking a look around me for the first time since exiting my vehicle. Most of the cars had some sort of superficial damage—broken mirrors, bent bumpers, scrapes on the hood or door. I reached into my pocket and clicked the lock button four more times, somehow convincing myself the extra clicks would make it lock better.
The apartment building didn’t ease my anxiety any. In fact, I’d say it added to it.
The grungy taupe walls were in desperate need of a good wash, so much so that I was tempted to sneak down here with a bucket and do it myself. The carpet probably had been either cream or a pale grey at some point in its life, but was now the same color as the walls.
Every single surface needed a deep clean.
Jules glanced back at me. “I know it’s not much, she whispered, “but it’s all I could afford.”
“No, I love it,” I lied. “It’s cozy.” It was not. It looked like the setting of a Stephen King novel.
Two flights of stairs later, she forced open a jammed maple laminate door, nearly falling into the apartment after it.
“You don’t have to try to make me feel better,” Jules said, rolling my suitcase into the first room on the left in the small entry hall. “It’s not like I’m staying here much longer.”
I walked down the hall, shaking my head to myself as I went. Only Jules could take a place this dismal and make it feel like home. Her home, to be sure, what with the proliferation of shiny gold celestial hangings and macrame art. Frogs, mushrooms, rabbits, and rich, earthy tones filled the miniscule space. Fresh flowers on the two-person cafe table filled the room with the scent of roses and myrrh. Or maybe that was the diffuser on the bar top counter. A ladder bookshelf of houseplants claimed every window space, a few even hanging from the ceiling.
“I know it’s not much,” Jules repeated, but I interrupted her unnecessary apology.
“Beatrix Potter would love this place,” I told her.
Her sage eyes brightened as she took a quick panorama of the room. “She probably would, wouldn’t she?”
I followed her into the galley kitchen that was really just a section of the living room. The entire thing was taupe, aside from the places Jules had managed to squeeze in some of her decorations without doing something irreversible.
“This kitchen just kills you, doesn’t it?” I asked, opening the sangria while she grabbed two stemless wine glasses.
“Like you would not believe.”
I poured the fruity red drink into each glass, and we sank into her second-hand, moss-green sofa in blissful silence, sipping our drinks and settling in for a night of girl talk. Over the years I’d had so many girls’ nights—some with just one of the girls to get to know them better, some with all five of us. They were some of the best memories I had growing up in Cedar Springs, and I had a lot of good memories.
“Ava,” Jules began tentatively, surprising me with her hesitant tone, “there’s something I wanted to talk with you about before we meet with the others. Well, two things, actually.”
Jules was not the serious, “we have to talk” type. She was my breezy, go-with-the-flow girl who made the best of everything and everyone. So I knew that when she needed to talk to me, it must really be something big.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, scooting towards her and sitting up straighter.
“I know that we’re all going to be going in together for the house and all the costs that come with renovating it.” She looked down into her wine glass, swirling the iridescent liquid. “I want to be involved. I want to be all in just like you guys. But I have exactly two thousand dollars, and I have to pay about half of that as rent before my lease is up. What can I do? I don’t want to be dead weight, but I don’t know how I can pull this off.”
“There’s nothing to pull off,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “We’re working together and we’re each bringing what we’ve got to the table. We’ve got at least ninety days while we wade through all the red tape of buying this house. Come back to Cedar Springs with me. We’ll find you a job and you can save up and contribute what you’re able. I’ll cover the rest of your share, and we don’t need to tell anyone if you don’t want.”
“Ava,” she gasped, “I am not going to let you pay double your share. That was not, at all, why I brought this up. I knew you were good with money and planning and all that, and I thought you could help me figure out a solution that didn’t involve bumming off my friends.”
I took a sip of my wine and wiggled my brows at her. “I just gave you a solution,” I told her. “And I’m pretty proud of how quickly I solved your problem.”
“Ava.” Jules’s voice was too serious. “I’m not taking your money.”
“No,” I agreed, “you’re not. Think of it this way: If you bow out entirely because you can’t afford to pay in, we’ll still have to eat your share. We’ll either divide it evenly between all of us, or I’ll take it on myself anyway. And I’d much rather pay double and have you be a part of this than pay double and go back to never seeing you.”
She relaxed in the couch a little, finally sipping her own drink. “How are you possibly going to afford that?”
It was something I’d been wondering myself, but I wasn’t about to admit that to Jules while she sat on the cusp of bailing.
“I’ve been setting aside money every month since high school,” I admitted. “The summer we all left, I decided that even if I didn’t spend it on the B&B, maybe I could use it to travel to visit you wherever you were. It’s not a ton, but it should be enough to cover two shares of the down payment and some of the renovation. We’ll have to take out a mortgage for the rest.”
“I am so far from being able to afford a house that I haven’t even bothered to look into the process. Just so you don’t think I’m a complete and utter failure as a human, the reason I have so little money currently is because I just used most of it to pay off the last of my student loans.” She raised her wine glass in a sarcastic toast. “My personal before-thirty goal.”
“Damn! We should be celebrating!” I jumped up, running to grab my phone and turn on some music. “I’m paying your share, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
“Fine,” Jules allowed, “but I’m paying you back, so keep a record.”
“Pay me back in free labor,” I suggested, not even joking. “We have months of painting, sanding, and all sorts of fun ahead, and I’m still running the bakery by myself. I need like ten more hands.”
Jules finally laughed, standing up to turn on her Bluetooth speaker so we could hear the Backstreet Boys a little more clearly. Nothing makes you smile like the sound of your youth, at least in my experience.
“You got it,” she agreed loudly, raising her voice over the music. “Consider me your indentured servant.”
I shook my head, sitting back down beside her and handing her her glass. “How about just my friend?”
She smiled as she took it. “Always.”