I have to figure out how to stay alive for several weeks on a few hundred dollars.

As I drive into town, I notice that my gas tank is almost empty. There goes twenty-five bucks. I drive slowly anyway, taking in the sights, wondering what’s changed. Just before the turn into Colebury, I spot a couple of new businesses. There’s a bar called the Gin Mill with lots of cars in the parking lot. That place looks like a good time, but I don’t have money to spend, not even on a single beer.

In the same lot, though, there’s another business that’s even more interesting to me. The Busy Bean. A coffee shop. It’s closed now, but I make a note to pay it a visit soon. If it’s a big coffee shop, they might be able to use a baker, one who doesn’t mind pouring coffee, too.

Beggars can’t be choosers. And since I’m this close to becoming an actual beggar, I have to keep my options open.

I gun the engine, climbing the hill toward the town square. The houses look a little better maintained than the last time I was here. It’s a warm autumn night, and there are people standing outside the old diner, chatting. That place has shined itself up, too. When did Colebury get cute? I’m stunned at how cheerful it looks, with window boxes on the store fronts and every street lamp lit.

My nostalgia bubbles up inside me again like yeast. This is my hometown, even if I never felt welcome here before. I was born here. And even if I spent most of my first eighteen years living on various military bases around the world, I finished high school here, too.

And I like the look of the place, damn it. I feel the pull.

Wouldn’t it be funny if I settled down in Colebury right under the noses of my parents? I want to see the look on my father’s face when I walk into the diner holding hands with my future boyfriend.

Now there’s a happy thought I’ll need to revisit when I’m trying to fall asleep in the passenger seat later.

Behind the old diner, I see something that’s actually useful to me. A gym. TRY A WEEK ON US, reads a sign in the window.

It’s the first lucky break of the day. Or maybe the month, if I’m honest. If the gym has even a half-decent locker room, I can shower there every night. I’ll need to look professional while I’m job hunting.

I park my car and get out. Come on, Colebury. Don’t let me down.

TWENTY-SIX

Never forget a woman

I’m leaning against my car in the parking lot at the gym. I’m aware that just standing around outside the gym defeats the whole purpose of being here, but I’m on the phone, listening to my older brother plead with me to do his chores at home.

“Come on, this is my opportunity to make an extra hundred bucks. You can come into the Gin Mill and I’ll buy you a beer.”