Billionaires Dollar Series

“When do we have to send the numbers to Porter?” I ask.

“In four days’ time,” Karli says. “But surely that’s too little time to…?”

“It is. Even if you triple your daily sales, it won’t be enough.” Chloe pauses, and it’s the look on her face that kills me, that tells me this is real. “I’m more sorry than you realize. I know this wasn’t what you hoped for, when you hired me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Karli says immediately. “Thank you for doing this for us, and for agreeing to the time pressure and deadline.”Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

She’s taking this better than I am. I just stare at Chloe’s screen-at the big red deficit-and feel like I’m falling, like this is a nightmare, one I’ve been dreading, and now that I’m here I can’t wake up.

I’m glad Eleanor can’t see us now.

Chloe gives me a hug before she leaves. My movements are on autopilot, and maybe she sees that, because she invites me over for dinner.

“For old time’s sake,” she says kindly. “Whenever you feel up for it, let me know.”

It’s nice, and I nod, but my insides are tearing themselves apart. How can this be? I watch in a daze as the front door shuts behind Chloe, the jingle of the bell obscene.

Karli turns to me. “I can’t-”

“We did everything-”

“You did so much!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

She wraps her arms around me, and me around her, and for a long time there are no words.

“We tried everything,” Karli finally murmurs. “Thank you, Skye. Thank you so much for believing in this. For negotiating those two extra months for us to try.”

I shake my head. “For nothing. I got our hopes up-”

“Nonsense. Between the Pages has touched so many lives in the past two months. It’s reached more people, and that’s because of you.”

“Us both.”

“Yes, well, I can’t take credit for half of your inventions.” Karli leans back, her eyes glittering. “We knew this day would come. We’d accepted it, months ago. We’ll learn to accept it again.”

I can’t accept it. Not yet, and maybe not ever. “How are you taking this so calmly?”

“Because this place had a five-decade run,” she says, her voice turning fierce. “Eleanor’s dream lives on in me, and it lives on in you, Skye. That’s what matters.”

Eleanor. We failed her.

When she died, she’d given me a set of leather-bound old editions and a beautiful note. Follow your dreams, Skye, and never doubt that you’re a born writer.

I still doubted.

I still needed this place.

Pulling out of Karli’s embrace, I reach for my phone with a trembling hand. “Maybe I can talk to Cole. Convince them to keep this place anyway. We have gained more customers, after all. That’s good?”

The smile Karli gives me is kind, but it’s not hopeful. “Honey, he’s a businessman. I don’t like him, even if you’ve told me the article didn’t paint a fair picture, but he’s still out to make money. And we’re not a good bet.”

“Yes we are.” I swipe left to open my phone and click open my texts.

Skye Holland: Can I come over after you’re done with work?

His response is immediate.

Cole Porter: Yes. I’ll finish up early for you.

“This can’t be the end,” I tell Karli, my hand a fist at my side. “It just can’t. I won’t let it.”

I knot my hands into fists to keep them from shaking and watch the elevator screen’s meticulous count of all the floors we barrel past. Twelve. Fifteen. Eighteen. Twenty. The Amena building is one of the tallest in Seattle. In a different world, I’d make a joke to Cole about it. You couldn’t settle for just a mid-rise, could you? Maybe I’d quip that he was compensating for something, and he’d make a crude joke back.

Tonight is not that night.

The elevator bell dings as it slides to a smooth stop at the top floor, opening straight into Cole’s home, if you could call his modernist fortress that.

I walk down the hallway without stopping to take off my jacket. My mind feels blank and foggy-too much has hit me in too short a time. The bookstore is closing. Cole’s tearing it down. Karli and I failed.

“Skye? Thank God you’re here.” Cole emerges out of his home office, shrugging out of his suit jacket. “I can’t wait to bury myself in you.”

My handbag slides off my shoulder and lands with the sound of metal on hardwood.

His eyes find mine. “Skye? Are you all right?”

“We met with our accountant today. We’re not profitable.”

For a moment he’s completely still, eyes locked on mine. And then he’s crossing the space to me in quick strides. He opens his arms but I can’t. Not right now, and not with him.

I take a step back and he stops. “We failed,” I repeat.

“Fuck.” He slides a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry, Skye. Truly.”

“We turned things around. There were more customers there. You saw it too, didn’t you?”

He gives a faint nod. “I did.”

“And we followed your advice. Practically everything is on sale, Cole. We’re flying through the inventory, and our Instagram page is growing, we engaged the entire neighborhood, and we got a new accountant and…and… I can’t think of anything else we could have done. It’s heading in the right direction. We could still become profitable, it just needs more time.”

“You’ve worked so hard,” he says, and the expression on his face kills any last shred of hope I’d harbored. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry. More sorry than I can tell you.”

I swallow hard. He’s sorry, because he’s going to tear it down anyway. He’s sorry.

“I know how much this meant to you, to prove yourself.”

He says it like he expects me to walk into his arms-to have him console me-before he tears it down in two weeks’ time.