As Ben pulls his car into the parking lot of the Broken Cupcake Bakery, the panicked tone of Reese's last three text messages is starting to make sense. He pilots the car into an empty space and I jump out, zipping up the front of my jacket as I step out into the cold. 

"Hey girls," I say as I step cautiously toward the sidewalk where an array of fashionable shoes, designer purses and classic jewels are artfully displayed on a wooden table parked in the snow. The early morning sun highlights the metallic accents and rich textures of the items.

My sister looks up and greets me with a quick wave before turning her attention back to the wrinkly, toothless woman who is counting the change in the threadbare fanny pack cinched around her waist. "I'm not giving you more than five dollars for that damn bag," the woman announces gruffly. "I saw one just like it at the thrift shop for three dollars."

Sophia folds her arms over her belly and glares. "This is authentic Chanel. You're crazy if you think I'm going below seven dollars."

The woman huffs and sweeps her hand around her face. “Hello—I’m crazy, period, in case you haven’t noticed.”

I sidle up to where my sister’s friends, Reese and Nova, are huddled near the bakery's door, shivering in the cold. "Save us!" Nova mouths silently as I approach.

"What the hell is going on here?" I whisper roughly with Sophia out of earshot.

"She says she’s on a mission to sell off everything her ex-fiance ever bought her," Nova says, running a finger across her reddened nose. "Personally, I think it's a cry for help."

Reese shakes her head wryly. "I think it's just the opposite, actually."

I cast a glance back at my sister. She's still arguing with that homeless woman. Now, Ben has joined the fray. It seems like he’s trying to broker an agreement between the two.

"How so?" I want to get an understanding of the situation before things escalate.

"The reality's setting in,” Reese says sagely. “The baby's only a few weeks away and she's single, she's jobless. She's ready to take matters into her own hands. This impromptu swap meet is her way of doing that."

My eyes peruse the items on the table again. "Wait--isn't that the baby monitor you bought her for her baby shower?" I ask Nova.

"It is. But she pointed out that she doesn't need a baby monitor since she basically lives in a shoebox. No need for a monitor when the baby is less than ten feet away at all times." Nova shrugs.

I bob my head in agreement. "Right, right..."

“We’ve been trying to get through to her,” Reese says, “but at this point, she’s a bit frantic.”

“She’s a lot frantic,” Nova offers as an amendment.

Our conversation is interrupted by Sophia's loud exclamation. "Okay, okay, you have yourself a deal!" She throws up her hands in exasperation.

I have to intervene to stop this madness. Now. Because my sister is currently handing over a a $4000 bag in exchange for a few crumpled up dollar bills and a shopping cart full of recyclable soda cans.

I march over to Sophia’s table. "So, I'm gonna have to nullify this transaction." Forcing a smile, I intercept the purse on its voyage from Sophia's hands to the purchaser's.

"Hey!" the homeless woman hisses. Ben jumps in to shield my sister and me when she flashes a set of stained teeth with displeasure. 

"Sorry, ma'am. No deal." With my hands on her shoulders, I steer my despondent sister through the doors of the Broken Cupcake. "Bargain Bin Pop-Up Shop à la Sophia is canceled until further notice."

Heaving a loud sigh of relief, Reese grabs a box and starts packing up the items on the table. Nova and Ben stick around to help her.

"Why'd you do that?" Sophia protests as I lead her to a set of couches in the corner of the bakery.

"Hun, setting up an illegal flea market and selling off luxury items for pennies on the dollar is a flimsy, short-term fix. It isn't going to help your financial situation in the long-run."

She flops back against the cushions and exhales heavily. "So what exactly am I supposed to do? What are my options, Angie? In case you haven’t noticed—" she uses her hand to motion at her belly. “—Tick-tock…”

"Well, first off—stop making rash decisions. I know that the baby is almost here and you're scared because you don't have much money. But you're only digging the hole deeper. You need to sit down and come up with a sensible plan."

"I did that,” she argues. “Selling off my stuff is part of the plan. The money earn, I’m going to invest it."

I sit back and fold my arms across my chest. “Invest it? How?”

She hangs her head, looking ashamed to say what’s on her mind. “I don’t want to sound silly but…I want to open up a daycare center.”

I shouldn’t be judgmental but my eyebrow darts up my forehead before I have the chance to stop it. “A daycare center.”

“I’ve always wanted to open a children’s center of some sort,” she tells me. “I’d planned on it being a non-profit, a place where underprivileged kids could come to play and learn and…Anyway, a non-profit was the plan but given the current state of my finances, I kinda sorta need a profit. Desperately.” She smiles somberly.

“Yeah, kinda sorta…” I nod mirthfully as I roll the idea over in my head. It doesn’t sound crazy. At least not as crazy as selling off all her belongings in exchange for empty soda cans. “So, you wanna open a daycare?”

“Yes,” she says resolutely.

I don’t want to be discouraging but I’m not sure she’s thought this through. “If you’re saving up one dollar bills in the hopes of opening a daycare center, I hate to tell you, but all the kids in this town will be dumb teenagers, snorting household cleaning products and making other questionable life choices behind the gas station off of Cumber Street by the time you have enough money.”

She throws her head back and laughs for brief moment. Her expression grows serious when she says, “Actually, I have one valuable item that’ll bring in a decent chunk of change.”

My heart sinks when I realize what it is. “Soapy…”

“I don’t have a choice, Angie.”

“But it’s an heirloom. It was passed down from Josh’s great-grandmother. Don’t you want to save it for the baby?”

One narrow shoulder comes up in a shrug. “That engagement ring is nothing but dead-weight. The baby would be much better served if I sold it and did something useful with the money.”

I guess she has a point there. “But you realize that opening a business is a lot of work. Can you manage that while you’re pregnant?”

“I know you’re gonna start lecturing me on the fact that I should take it easy and all that jazz but I’m running out of time. I spent months lying on Reese’s sofa, licking my wounds. It’s time for me to get proactive. So I’m gonna have to call in some favors. Pool all my resources and man power I can get my hands. I’m going to make this happen, Ang.”

My body clenches at the familiar raspy voice that echoes from over my shoulder. “What is it you just said?”

I turn and find Ben standing there, gripping a cardboard box overflowing with Sophia’s belongings.

“If you need manpower,” he tells my sister, “you’re looking right at it.”