Who likes talking about money? Velma wondered as they dove into the Chinese takeout that Scarlett had ordered. She was too shy to say it was her first try.
The three women had agreed to buy a small New York apartment, had agreed to put their money on the table, and had agreed that they would each contribute what they could and wanted, regardless of whether or not it was “even.”
Velma always felt like a poor churchmouse and this was no exception. She bit into the fried eggroll. Cabbage? Carrots? Pork? Delicious. The sangria was lovely, too.
When they’d had a second glass, they wrote on paper what they planned to spend. Velma’s quiet life paid off. Her contribution, theoretical so far, was highest! She grinned her relief into her sangria glass.