“Alright, girl,” I said, coming back into the office after giving the gallery floor a good sweeping down, “I’m about to close up shop.”

“Already?” Sheila asked. “It’s not even three yet.”

“Sorry, it’s just been a long day and I’m ready to get out of here. Things really die down around this time, anyways.”

“That bad, huh?”

I shrugged. “Had a sale earlier today, but it wasn’t with a new client. But it’s enough to keep us open for the rest of the month, at least.”

“You know, Jess, I need to level with you,” Sheila said, gesturing to the visitor chair. Her voice didn’t sound too confident or happy.

I sat down uneasily in the indicated chair, my hands folded in my lap.

Sheila glanced to the computer screen and bit her lip like a doctor about to diagnose me with cancer. “I’ve been doing all your accounting for the gallery since Blake died and, well, things aren’t pretty. I think you know that, too.”

I nodded. I knew things were tight. I’d never really had to worry too much about them in the past, because Blake took care of everything. There had always been money in the bank when I needed it, even during my down months.

“I mean, if Wyatt backs off,” she continued, “but stays as a part owner in this thing without contributing any money, I don’t know what you’re going to do. His uncle was pretty much keeping this place afloat, especially during the off-seasons like this. If art sales stay down like they have, that’s it. You don’t really have an art gallery anymore.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, in all seriousness, you need to really consider taking Wyatt’s money. He’s offering substantially more than you’d ever get for your portion of ownership in this place.”

“Could I save it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Could I salvage the gallery, put it in the black?”

She sighed and screwed her mouth to the side. “Maybe? But you’d need to invest in it pretty heavily, maybe get a loan from a bank or something. And even then, well, the chances of you even getting one are pretty slim.”

I sagged into my chair. “So you think I should just take the money and run?”

“Do something. Anything! Right now, there’s just not much of a way forward, not the way you’re going. You need to change something.”

I nodded slowly, trying to absorb everything my best friend had just told me. “I’m fucked, then?”

She winced. “Yeah, kind of. Not unless you figure out a way to unfuck yourself. And, believe me, that’s easier said than done.”

And, just like that, I felt like my world was slipping away. First Blake dying, then the stalker, followed by Wyatt, and now this. I rested my head on my fist. “Just give up, then?”

“I didn’t say that. Look, Daddy’s first business failed. It happens. You just start over in a new place with a new idea. Maybe you need to put a gift shop in here or next door. Something you don’t want to do, but something that makes you even more money during the season so you can float more easily through the bad. Diversify.”

I let out a peal of sharp laughter. “Diversify?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Said so yourself earlier, girl, you gotta do some things you don’t wanna do if you wanna make money. At least it’s not getting in bed as a money launderer, right?”

The only problem, though, was where I could get the money to diversify my business and save it. I sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

I glanced up at the time on the old clock hanging from the wall. “But, hey, I told Richard I was going to be leaving soon. So, doom and gloom aside, I should probably get going.”

She pushed back from the desk with a long, weary sigh. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to break the news to you, Jess.”

I went to stand and shook my head. “don’t be sorry. It’s better to know ahead of time than it is to find out when the rent check doesn’t clear, right? This just helps me plan ahead, that’s all, and maybe save some heartache. I owe you a thank you, actually.”

“What are you planning on doing?” she asked as I came around and grabbed my purse.

“Sleep on it?” I asked with a humorlous laugh. “But, for real, I don’t know.”

She got up from the desk and scooped up her purse as well, slinging it over her shoulder.

“Right now,” I continued, “I have to deal with Richard trying to put me in a safe house, and all this other craziness. I mean, hell, the way things are going I might not even have to worry about rent.”

She frowned from the doorway as I came around, purse in one hand, keys in the other. She threw her arms wide open and, without warning, pulled me into a big hug. She held me like that for a moment. “Well, when everything else is figured out,” she said, “I’ll still be here to help you. Okay?”

I nodded, smiled tightly. “Yeah, I know. You’re a good friend, Sheila. You know that?”

She smiled wide. “I try.”

She left the gallery first, but I hung back for a moment to make sure all the lights and electronics were powered down. With that done, I stood there at the front door, just looking forlornly at the most solid thing tying me to Enchanted Rock. With the lights off, it looked like an empty room, a place that had once held the hopes and dreams of a twenty-something-year-old girl who’d come back to her hometown with a head full of ambition, but no know-how.

Maybe I should take the money? Sheila had said so herself, the Curious Turtle was just going to close down eventually anyways without a cash infusion. If Wyatt Axelrod bought me out he’d at least be able to keep the space, and Enchanted Rock would still have an art gallery to call its own. Sure, it’d be used for laundering dirty money, but at least it would be open this time next year, which meant some of the artists who partially depended on my gallery to display and sell their artwork would be able to feed their own families.

I just slowly shook my head. I didn’t know how to get out of this, and I wasn’t sure if anyone else did either.