“That neighborhood is absurd,” she says. “You’re paying top dollar for the privilege of living in an Urban Outfitters commercial. Can’t you ditch the hipster nonsense and move the shop somewhere else?”

“The neighborhood is part of the appeal,” I insist. “Our customers are there. We get amazing foot traffic.”

“But we’re already stretched so thin.” Sophie groans and pushes her hair back. “We’re just barely making rent every month as it is.”

“Our sales are on the upswing lately,” I point out.

“Sure. This month. What about next month?”

The answer rolls around my mouth and I’m not sure I should say it out loud.

“What, you think your little marketing stunt is going to boost our sales permanently?” Sophie asks.

Liv pads into the kitchen and plants herself by Sophie’s side. She purses her lips at that thought.

“Look, maybe it’s nuts, but it’s working. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the wave of new followers and sales to new customers. And it’s only going to get better in time.”

“Eliza . . .” Sophie looks at me with big, pleading eyes.

“What?”

She sighs. “I really doubt that we can afford to renew the lease at the higher rate. It’s a lot of money. It might be too much. Think practically.”

I picture us shutting down the shop, losing the business, me living on that tweed couch. The mere thought of it makes my head feel fizzy with pressure. I pinch the bridge of my nose, waiting for the right words to come.

“We can make it work. We’ll cut our salaries!”

Sophie and Liv exchange heavy glances.

“No,” Liv says simply.

“We can’t do that,” Sophie says after a beat. Her face falls. “We really need the money.”

“You’re doing another round of IVF,” I guess.

Liv snakes her arm around Sophie’s waist. “We want to,” she explains. “But our insurance won’t cover another round. It’ll be fifteen thousand dollars this time, entirely out of pocket.”

“That’s why we’re at home making our own stir-fry instead of going out,” Sophie says. Her eyes go wide. “Shit! The stir-fry.” She whirls around, turns off the burner, and uses pot holders to move the wok to the other side of the stove.

“What about laying off Jess?” Liv suggests.

Sophie and I both make faces.

“She’s Helen’s family, we can’t do that,” I remind her.

Sophie hesitates. “Yeah, but . . .”

“Ditching Helen’s family is off-limits. Neither of us would be here without Helen’s influence in the first place.”

“But you have your own family to think about, too,” Liv points out.

“I know that! I know that,” I say. “Come on, though. Jess was already laid off once. I can’t do that to her again. That would be so depressing and sad.”