Penny

Wanda picks up the phone on the first ring, even though it’s only seven thirty in the morning.

“Penny? What’s up? How was it? Are you okay? Are you alone? Are you in jail? Do you need bail? I’m on my way!”

“Whoa, wait, stop,” I laugh. “Jeez. None of that. Did I wake you?”

“Wake me?” she repeats, as though the idea is preposterous. “Of course you didn’t wake me. I am making French toast for the little monster.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing,” I sigh, listening to my stomach immediately start to grumble. “How is he? How is his head?”

“Practically back to showroom finish,” she quips distractedly. I hear pots banging in the background.

“Seriously? Can I talk to him?”

“Yeah… In a minute. How was it? You haven’t said anything! Was it fun? Was he there?”

“Yes…” I repeat shyly.

“And was it amazing? Did he sweep you off your feet? Were you guys wrapped up in a shower of fairytale glitter and stuff? Is he naked in your bed right now?”

“Jesus, Wanda!”

“What! You just traveled halfway across the country to try to meet up with the man that got away. I just want an update. Is that so wrong?”

I take a deep breath, then pause. “He was… fine. He’s different.”

I’m not sure what to tell her. I probably shouldn’t ever have mentioned Clay at all, but his name has sort of come up from time to time. Maybe just as an excuse to keep from dating sometimes when Wanda was pressuring me. Maybe more than that. I don’t know. Now I wish I hadn’t said anything.

“Different how? Is he gay? Is he ugly?”

“No, definitely not ugly,” I answer, remembering him vividly. Those muscles under that suit, so unexpected! Where did those even come from? He used to be so shy, now he’s all strength and confidence. The guy I knew has disappeared, replaced with this.

“Penny? Are you still there?”

“Yeah! Sorry, just distracted. I think housekeeping is in the hallway.”

“So how is he different? Married?”

I shrug, trying to piece it together for her. “Well for one thing, he’s gorgeous. But he’s… He’s just not… He says he isn’t a commitment guy. He’s a ladies’ man now, or something.”

“Oh no!” she bawls. “He’s a douche! I’m so sorry! Your Prince Charming turned into a douche!”

“He’s not a douche, Wanda, he’s just a—”

“Man, that sucks,” she continues, undeterred. “You’ve been carrying a torch for him all this time, and now he’s just some sleazy asshole in southern Illinois. What a bummer.”

“Wait, I didn’t say—”

“Did he even mention the pact?”

I swallow uncomfortably. “Well, no.”

“No,” she repeats. I can hear the judgment in her voice.

“I think he forgot.”

“He forgot.”

“Wanda, you can’t just keep repeating everything I say back to me. It’s freaking me out.”

“Okay, how about this: he’s a douche!”

“Oh, come on,” I sigh.

“Some guys, it just comes out eventually! They just go full douche! There is nothing you can do!”

“Okay, okay, okay,” I interrupt, getting louder. “So, hey! Listen! I called you for reason, okay? Are you there?”

“Yeah, okay. What?”

I take a deep breath. “Listen, there’s a development out here. It’s up for auction. Tax foreclosure or something. I’m thinking about…”

“Penny?” I hear her stop what she’s doing and really listen. “A development? Out there?”

“Yeah… so, eighty-something units, infrastructure is in, models are up, and nothing’s happening. It’s right off the highway.”

“Wait… are you talking about buying your own development? Being your own developer?”

“I know it’s a stretch, okay? But I’m never gonna get anywhere with Nathan, and I know how to run the project, and some good clean living in middle America couldn’t hurt for Ethan.”

“Fuck yeah, girl!” Wanda hoots triumphantly. “Get it, girl! You know I am behind you 100 percent! Whatever you need, I will totally back you.”

“No, I don’t need you to back me,” I answer in a rush. “I’m not asking you for money, just advice. A development out here? Can I really do that?”

She sighs just a little bit, plainly frustrated. Wanda has offered to help me a hundred times, and I always turn her down. I don’t want to be someone who ruins a friendship over money. I just don’t.

“You can absolutely do it,” she says sincerely, sweetly. “Nobody has instincts like you, Penny. You’re the best. It’s time everybody knew that. Go do it.”

I do a little silent fist pump in the air, swelling with confidence.

“Yes! Thank you, Wanda. I just needed some of your pep talk magic. Can I talk to Ethan?”

“Oh, he’s gonna have to call you back. I think he went to the shower or something. Go be a badass, Penny! Call me later and tell me what happens!”

“Okay!” I say, swallowing my disappointment that Ethan didn’t wait around to talk to me. I guess it is normal teenage boy things, but still.

All the way to the courthouse, I cartwheel through mental math exercises. If I spend 80 percent of my savings, I’ll have enough left over to do investor presentations. If I spend any more than that, I will be in trouble. Maybe, magically, it’ll be more like 60 or 70 percent, and I’ll be able to do some real work. Maybe, if I am a very lucky girl, one of those units is already close to livable.

Maybe all the stars will align.

The woman at the registration takes my earnest money check and scowls at it, then hands me a slip of paper with a bidder number on it. I’m tempted to ask her how it all works, but she has a sour look on her face so I just take my ticket and shuffle off.

A small crowd of people stand in front of the auctioneer, a bored-looking man in a too-tight polo shirt and gray trousers. Just like the old days, we really are on the county courthouse steps. He has eight properties to auction, and the first ones give me an idea of how the process works.

It’s just like a TV auction: he starts the bidding at a dollar amount, say twenty-five thousand dollars for a house the county owns, and the bidders raise their hands to indicate that they want to bid on the property until someone wins it.

When he finally gets to the development, I am ready to go. About half the crowd has wandered off, clearly done with the items they were interested in. There’s just a few of us, and I keep my eyes fixed on the auctioneer, eagerly anticipating the first bids.

To my dismay, the starting bid is already most of what I have saved. I raise my hand anyway and he points at me to acknowledge that I have the winning position.

Two seconds later, another man outbids me. He doubles my bid, completely obliterating anything I could have done. I’m crushed, until I look over and see Ron in a purple tracksuit, nodding with satisfaction. He glances over to me and raises his eyebrows, shrugging apologetically.

“The item is sold!” the auctioneer announces. “That concludes this month’s auctions. Please proceed to the registrar to complete your sales.”

“That’s it?” I mutter to myself, completely deflated.

“Shit, was that you?” Ron asks, taking me aback by the sincere look of apology on his face. “You didn’t say anything… I didn’t even know you were looking at Crosswind, Penny.”

I shake my head, confused. Why is he being nice? Maybe I forgot, and this is some kind of Midwestern thing? I’ve never had a competitor apologize for beating me before.

“No, it’s all right, Ron,” I smile gamely. “It was really a long shot, anyway. Just a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

He scratches his bald spot contemplatively. “I’m totally surprised to see you here, sorry. I don’t even know what to say! It’s actually kind of cool… Did you have plans for it? Is your company looking to expand or something? I pretty much have this region locked up in a lot of ways, but if you were looking…”

Suddenly, a completely crazy idea occurs to me. Completely insane.

“Ron, what if I were looking? I have a lot of ideas for this development.”

He shrewdly raises his eyebrows. “Are you saying you would consider it? Even relocating?”

I shrug nonchalantly. I don’t want to seem too eager, and I am not 100 percent convinced that working for Ron would be a walk in the park. It might not be any more productive than working for Nathan, but it certainly would be simpler than trying to start a brand-new business on my meager finances, I have to admit.

“For the right project, I might be convinced,” I suggest.

He pantomimes surprise, rocking back and smirking. “Well, that is good news! What if I talked to the hiring manager?” He pivots to one side, pretending to talk to an invisible person while I try to control my eye-rolling reflex. “Okay! You’re hired!”

“What are we talking about? Who’s hired?”

I practically flinch, startled. Clay walks up to us with Starbucks cups in his hands, and my mouth goes dry as the words turn to dust on my tongue. He squints at Ron accusingly.

“Dude, you’re never going to believe what just happened.”