Free Sweet Dreams on Center Street by Sheila Roberts

She widened
her eyes. “Is that a brownie you’re eating?”
    Samantha stuffed the last of her brownie in her mouth.
“Mmm.”
    Cecily made a face. “Unfair.”
    Kind of like her being up here all by herself, worrying about
Mom and the business. Then she reminded herself that she’d been the stupid
martyr who insisted her sisters return to their lives in L.A.
    â€œBut better your waist than mine,” Cecily taunted.
    â€œBy the time everyone in Icicle Falls is done bringing food
we’ll have no waists. We’ll be tree trunks,” Mom predicted. “Still, it’s very
thoughtful.”
    And it’s free, Samantha thought.
Right now free was good, as her savings account was on the verge of
flatlining.
    â€œSo, have you come up with any ideas for how to get the money
we need?” asked Cecily.
    The elephants sitting on Samantha’s shoulders settled in for a
nice, long stay. “Other than robbing the bank, no.”
    â€œI still think I should take out a loan,” Cecily said. “Maybe I
could get a home equity loan on my condo.”
    â€œNice try, but I told you, no loans,” Samantha insisted. “This
family isn’t going any deeper into debt.” Mom being upside down on her house was
bad enough. They didn’t need to put her sister in the same position.
    Cecily gave a fatalistic shrug. “You know, I always thought I
was pretty good at thinking outside the box, but I’ve got to admit that so far
I’m at a loss. Other than matching you up with a rich man,” she teased
Samantha.
    â€œMeeting a nice man, there’s an idea,” Mom said, perfectly
happy to take her seriously. “Maybe someone who’d be willing to make you a
personal loan.”
    â€œNo problem,” Samantha said irritably. “Let’s run down to the
rich-guy mart and pick up a sucker.”
    â€œWe wouldn’t have any luck, anyway,” Cecily said. “Your boobs
aren’t big enough.”
    Now Mom was looking thoughtful. “What’s the new bank manager
like?”
    â€œHe’s no Arnie,” Samantha said bitterly. An image of Blake
Preston with his broad shoulders and superhero chin came running into her mind,
all dressed up in his football regalia. Samantha benched it.
    â€œStill, surely he could be of some help,” Mom said.
    Samantha shook her head. “I’ve met him. He’s useless.”
    â€œMaybe you didn’t get off on the right foot,” Mom
persisted.
    If snatching back the bribe she’d brought him counted, no, they
hadn’t. Samantha shot her sister a look that warned bodily harm if Cecily ratted
her out to Mom and said, “Trust me, he won’t be any help. A man can’t always fix
things,” she couldn’t keep from adding.
    Her mother heaved a sigh. “I wish your father was alive. He’d
know what to do.”
    â€œIf Dad was alive we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first
place,” Samantha said, and then wanted to bite off her tongue. Just shoot me now, she thought, watching her mother’s
shoulders stiffen. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” she muttered.
Except she had and they both knew it.
    â€œIt’s okay,” her mother said even though they both knew it
wasn’t.
    Now Samantha could hear Bailey’s voice in the background. A
moment later her youngest sister appeared on the screen, plopping onto the love
seat next to Cecily and pulling off a red leather jacket, probably a consignment
store find. Ever since the company’s profits had evaporated they’d all been
shopping secondhand. Or, in Samantha’s case, not shopping at all.
    â€œSo what have you guys come up with?” she asked.
    â€œNothing,” Samantha said. This was going to be a big waste of
time.
    â€œWell, I was thinking about something on the way over,” Bailey
told them. “What about some kind of