Free Second Chances by Bria Marche Page A

brain.”
    “It does,” Abby said, “but not the buttery, salted type. I think our brains are in high gear already, but I love buttery popcorn, so thanks. Before we go to bed tonight, we’ll have a viable plan of action.”
    With a half-hour break for popcorn and tea—and with a calculator clicking away beneath their greasy fingertips—the girls devised the perfect cost-effective scenario.
    “This will make everyone feel like they’re getting more than their money’s worth while living in the best neighborhood of Charleston,” Mel said. “Abby, you’ll have plenty of money left at the end of the month to buy a car and save up for anything that can go wrong. With four people, including me, paying one thousand two hundred dollars a month for the large bedrooms with the private bath, and three people paying eight hundred dollars for the small bedrooms with hallway baths, it comes to seven thousand two hundred dollars a month in income. Betsy, how much would it cost to feed nine people for a month?”
    “If I make a lot of pasta dishes, casseroles, and salads for dinners, and eggs and toast for breakfasts, everyone could be fed well on one thousand five hundred dollars a month,” Betsy said.
    “Okay, so if we add two hundred dollars a month more to everyone’s rent, which would include breakfast and dinner, we can’t go wrong. They’ll be jumping at the chance to live here. As long as we can rent all the rooms, there should be plenty of money coming in. Everyone will have to sign a one-year lease. Now, the question is, how do we start a buzz in Charleston without the neighbors finding out?” Melanie said.
    “Let’s sleep on it and come up with something tomorrow. I’m beat,” Abby said. “Thanks, guys, for everything. This just might work out after all.” Lying in bed, Abby felt excited about the possibilities. Life might turn out okay as long as I’m very careful with the tenants I choose. Remy and Mom, I won’t let either of you ruin my life. No pity parties for me anymore. I’m going to be in charge and live my life on my terms, bravely and passionately, with the best friends I’ve ever known. Thank you, Mel and Betsy, for being here for me. We can make this work.
    ***
    “I’ve got to change my last name,” Abby announced as she walked into the breakfast room the next morning. The long, flowing robe looked beautiful on her tall, slender body.
    She brought the carafe of coffee to the maple morning table and set it on a trivet. Betsy scooped the scrambled eggs into a bowl and served them family style. With a four-slice toaster, the toast was made and buttered in no time. Betsy stacked eight pieces on a plate and carried it to the table with a jar of peach jam. The girls helped themselves to breakfast.
    “So what does that actually mean, and why would you do it?” Mel asked with a mouthful of perfectly prepared eggs.
    “I’ve done the research, and it’s as simple as going to the courthouse and standing before the judge. As long as you aren’t a criminal trying to hide or you want to change your name to something really stupid, it goes through without a problem. I want to come across as the on-site property manager, so I don’t want anyone to know I actually own the house. Plus it’s a good way to never be used again for financial gain.”
    “That’s a great idea. Have you thought of a new last name yet?”
    “Sort of, but I want to run it by you guys first. Originally, I wanted to use my mom’s maiden name, but not anymore after the crap she put me through. How about Taylor? It’s a basic, common name. It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
    “I like it. Abigail Taylor, or Abby Taylor, has a nice ring to it. You look like you could be the granddaughter of Liz Taylor with your black hair and blue eyes,” Melanie said.
    “Thanks, Mel. So it’s settled? You guys agree, Abby Taylor sounds okay?”
    “It’s okay by me,” Betsy said as she cleared the table.
    “Me, too. When are you going to