Part 2Playing Broke at My Reunion

Every afternoon at 5:30 I left work and went straight to Metro General.

Grace and I would sit side by side on a bench outside the hospital, each of us holding a warm container. The food cost almost nothing. I'd eaten at restaurants where a single course ran more than her monthly salary, and none of it had ever tasted this good.

"Eat more." Grace nudged the container of ribs toward me. "You've lost weight."

I took a bite and mumbled an answer.

Then her eyes brightened.

"Something good happened today. Our department's been waiting three months on approval for a set of cardiac supplies. The system office finally signed off this morning."

I lowered my head so she wouldn't see me smile. I'd called the head of Hawthorne Medical myself the night before.

"Really?" I kept my voice casual. "That's good."

Grace smiled. She suspected nothing.

"How's the new job?"

"Fine."

The question caught me off guard, and years of executive instinct took over before I could stop it.

"The procurement pricing structure's too rigid, though. The rebate tiers are strangling our distributors."

Silence.

Grace stopped eating and stared at me.

"Rebate... tiers?"

My stomach dropped. Occupational reflex.

I coughed and shoveled in a mouthful of food.

"I hear people in the office talking. They use all these corporate terms. I don't understand half of it. I just repeat things."

Grace nodded seriously.

"Corporate stuff always sounds complicated." Then she added, "Don't be too hard on yourself."

I almost laughed from relief.

After dinner she unlocked her phone and held the screen toward me.

"Ryan, look."

It was a savings account. Balance: $82,500.

I stared. "Why are you showing me this?"

Grace put the phone away and looked at me calmly.

"I can withdraw most of it. I did the math. With the hundred thousand I already sent you, that's a hundred and eighty thousand total.

"It's nowhere near seven million, but if creditors are pressuring you, use it first."

Wind moved through the trees around us. My hand froze around my fork.

That money was her safety net — years of overtime, night shifts, skipped vacations, saved so she'd never have to depend on anyone. And she was offering all of it to me like it was nothing.

"Grace..." My throat tightened. "Aren't you afraid I won't be able to pay you back?"

She calmly packed away her empty container.

"Why would I be? You owe a lot of money, but you didn't run and you didn't fall apart. You took an ordinary job and started working."

She looked up at me and smiled.

"If you can still stand after losing everything, I believe you'll get back on your feet."

My heart started pounding. I wanted to tell her the truth right there.

I drew in a breath.

My phone chimed, and the words died in my throat.

It was our old high school group chat. Daniel Brooks, the former class president, had tagged me.

"@Ryan We're doing another reunion dinner next Saturday. You have to be there.

"I know the facilities manager at the Grand Royal. I got you a security job. Forty-five hundred a month, room and board included. Better than whatever you're scraping together now.

"Consider it a favor from an old friend."