Page 144 of Every Chance After

“What? That’s not a thing,” Roy argues, jolting up in his chair.

“I’ve heard of it,” Christie nods solemnly. “Male gymnasts get it when they fall wrong on the pommel horse.”

“That’s right,” I agree, though I’m clueless, and Mom’s not violent. But they don’t need to know that. “He had to go to the hospital. Ice and heat for weeks.”

“Dang, what’d he say to her?” Roy asks, wide-eyed.

“Don’t know, but I wouldn’t want to find out the hard way.”

They wince simultaneously. I hide my inner smile—I doubt they will risk flirting now.

“Wade, can we talk?” I wave my notebook toward the office nook I created in a large closet in the backroom. He nods, shifting between his friends as they heckle him.

“Uh, oh, that sounds like trouble,” Christie coos.

“Like being called to the principal’s office,” Roy laughs. “Best cover your penis, Wade. The apple might not fall far from the tree.”

They laugh as we disappear behind The Canteen.

The “office” is a shelf nailed into the wall with a small desk lamp and a pen holder. It isn’t glamorous, but it’s the best I could do since I reclaimed most of the backroom for the selling floor. He sits in a repurposed lawn chair, and I take the desk stool.

“It’s time to renegotiate. You’re dealing only withmenow, not Grady. I want him out of it.”

I expect an argument, but Wade leans up. “I’m listening.”

I flip my green notebook open and run through the numbers again. “Business has increased drastically, but so has our spending. Our billboard will be up soon. Peter Pike is starting on our gator observation deck today, and we still have more to do before our Memorial Day Extravaganza. The bottom line is, I work for you, and you can’t afford me.”

“I’ll fire Roy.”

“No, you won’t,” I scoff. “We need everyone for our grand reopening. We have a month until then. Pay me whatever the budget allows. Hopefully, we’ll increase sales to afford me permanently. If not, the Extravaganza will be my last hurrah at the G&G.”

His shoulders slump, and he purses his lips like his brain is working overtime to devise a solution. But I already know there isn’t one. If not for the Sullivans’ severance, I wouldn’t have been able to stay this long. I tug my previous paychecks free from the binder and hand them over. “Please, return Grady’s money and free him from whatever obligations he promised to get me this job.”

“Fine, but I’m keeping his shares,” Wade says, accepting the checks. “I deserve majority ownership of this place, and he’s one less kid I have to pay out profits to. Besides, I did him a favor.”

“Grady gave up his shares for me?”

“Yep.”

I swoon.Ah, Grady.“Well, that’s between you two. At the all-hands meeting, we’ll brainstorm more ways to get customers in here, so let’s brew a fresh pot of coffee, huh?”

The brainstorming goes surprisingly well. Making an effort with his clothes inspires Roy with better ideas, like offering a G&G delivery service.

“You said to think about what our customers need,” he explains. “The pizza guy’s on this road a dozen times a day. Why not get your eggs and beer delivered, too? That’s something Sunny’s doesn’t have.”

Marigold offers the design for our new billboard, going up later this week, featuring groceries, grub, and gators—it’s her best work yet. Even better, it’ll go up near Sunny’s parking lot. Travelers won’t miss it, and, for once, they’ll have a choice.

Grady arrives around the same time as Mom and Tilly, and they funnel into our meeting together. They meet Marigold, Peter, and Wren before rounding to the boys. Christie trips over his Birkenstocks, rising to greet her. Roy looks a bit more guarded, his hand hovering in front of his crotch awkwardly as I introduce him, and he barely speaks, as if afraid the wrong thing might come out. Good.

Mom is quite lovely, with her fiery hair, full curves, and bright personality, and Wade must think so too. Their handshake lingers between them, and we’re all surprised by the gentleness in his voice when he says, “We love Marnie and hope you find a home here with us too. You and Tilly.”

He then offers Tilly his hand for a high-five. Tilly giggles, slapping it and saying, “You’re a funny bunny.”

Wade straightens at this and hesitantly glances at his friends, as if worried they might start referring to him this way. “Better than being a grumpy Gus, I suppose.” He scratches his head, mussing his combed hair.

A bubbly laugh erupts from my sister, filling the room. Grady and I share an amused grin.

“How sweet,” Mom coos. “I appreciate it, Wade. Once I’m settled, I’ll give you all free haircuts to say thanks.”

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