Vesta had never worried about money. She always worked hard, lived well, remained unencumbered, and kept an eye on her finances. But this invitation to purchase a little slip of New Y ork took her by surprise. She got out her checkbook and her most serious pen, and got to work.
Yes, a loft apartment or a closet of a studio would be just enough to keep one foot in the urban world the three of them loved so well.
However. Vesta was hoping to finance enough of the venture that instead of some variation on a private hotel room, they could each keep a bedroom of their own, small though it might be. She opened her checkbook with a voracious appetite for reducing: did she need to keep her lawyer on retainer anymore? Keep up her academic memberships? She’d sent her monthly off to Feed the Children for decades… could she let that go, considering there had been no structural changes generated to actually feed the poor little souls? Vesta was suddenly exhausted. Nothing was ever simple. And just what role did Jean play in her decision?