Page 3 of Betting on Lizzie

“Pretty good, I guess,” Bella said, shrugging. “I made the varsity basketball team and met this girl, Maya. She’s pretty cool.”

Lizzie wondered if the thick, black eyeliner and over-sullen attitude had anything to do with her new friend. Or maybe the mourning of her father, who’d died of a heart attack less than six months ago. Either way, Lizzie wouldn’t judge. First, because she’d gone through a similar phase—some might argue she was still in it—and second, Bella had had a rough go the last few months and deserved some slack.

“That’s wonderful,” Kate said. “I’m sure it will get easier the longer you’re there.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Speaking of that,” Lizzie’s mom said. “Mark your calendars for Bella’s first game. It’s on Friday, and it would be great if y’all could come to support her.”

Everyone agreed to make it work.

“Kate, any update on selling The Drop?” Lizzie asked. Kate was a real estate agent, working to sell Lizzie’s bar so she could move to Parker Place—the informal name they’d given the strip mall Adam purchased a couple of years ago. Parker Place had five storefronts, and Adam was remodeling them to spec for Lizzie and her sisters. Everyone but Lizzie had already moved.

“Not great,” Kate said. “Commercial real estate is a different beast than residential. The market’s way smaller.”

Lizzie had been anxious about starting the remodel and planning a move before selling the old place, but something had to give. The Drop had been on the market for a year without so much as a bite, and she felt bad leaving Adam with an empty space at his mall.

“Daisy,” Lizzie turned to her sister. “I thought you said moving to the new place would ‘tell the universe’ I was ready to move, and The Drop would sell accordingly.”

Daisy shrugged. “There are still a few weeks until the grand opening, and the universe works in mysterious ways.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “I never would have committed to the remodel so soon if I knew The Drop was gonna take forever to unload.”

“Worse comes to worst, just do what I did and run both,” Lucy said. Lucy and Lizzie had been neighbors on Main Street for years. Lucy owned a coffee shop called The Drip directly across from Lizzie’s bar. She’d kept that one running even after opening the new store, which she named The Drip 2.0.

“Emma, how long could I do that?” Lizzie asked. Emma was an accountant and handled Lizzie’s books.

“Well, since you paid off The Drop and there’s no mortgage on it, you could easily run both for a few months,” Emma said. “After that, it’ll depend on what kind of revenue hit The Drop takes and how well The Tipsy Twist is doing.”

“The market for coffee is bigger than booze,” Lizzie said. “I have a feeling the Main Street crowd will just move to the new bar.”

“Especially since it’ll be so much easier to park,” Kate said.

“Yeah, the patio and pool tables will be a draw too,” Dirk added.

“Well, for now, I won’t have a choice,” Lizzie said. “I’ll have to operate both until Kate sells this thing. You got three weeks. Get after it, woman.” Kate gave a smart salute.

In the back of her mind, Lizzie had already prepared for this contingency and had interviews lined up to hire a new crew. She’d even picked out who among her current staff she trusted to run The Drop while she opened The Tipsy Twist. Things would work out. They always did.

Sophie Parker did not allow electronic devices at her dinner table. So, after dinner, everyone made a mad rush to the wicker basket that held phones. Lizzie checked for messages. The only new one was from Andy, apologizing and asking for another chance.

Lizzie hit delete without replying. He might not know it yet, but she’d done him a favor. He was better off without her.

CHAPTER TWO

It was Friday, and Ben was dragging. All he wanted was coffee, but when he entered the firehouse kitchen, a crew of eight sat around the massive oak table scarfing down breakfast. All eyes turned to him.

“Mansfield,” Simmons greeted. “We were just talking about going out tomorrow to celebrate Decker’s promotion. You in?”

Simmons should have known better. Ben hardly ever hung out with the guys. Even when he was one of them, it was rare.

“Maybe next time,” Ben said, filling his mug with the russet-brown nectar that would hopefully put a little pep in his step.

“If I had a quarter for every time you said that, I’d be frickin’ rich,” Franklin said. “You gotta loosen up, bro. Have some fun.”

“You guys have enough fun for the rest of us,” Ben said. “Besides, I have tons of fun at home.” He knew his coworkers thought of him as a hard-nosed, workaholic, but since he never did much to dissuade them of the notion, he could see why they came to that conclusion.

“Uh-huh. You think you’re too good for us, big shot?” Simmons jeered.

Ben huffed out a laugh. “Hardly.”

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