“Three hundred forty-seven is what you already owe.”
Her mouth fell open.
“This is insane.”
“You’re the one who taught me I had been too casual about lending things.”
“I always return your stuff.”
“Eventually.”
“Nothing has ever happened.”
“The mixer happened.”
“That thing was ancient.”
“It worked when it left my kitchen.”
She picked up the clipboard.
Then dropped it onto my porch table.
“This is unbelievably petty.”
“Then don’t borrow anything.”
She stared at me.
“I’ve borrowed from you for years.”
“I know.”
“And suddenly I need paperwork?”
“Yes.”
“Because of one stupid mixer?”
I looked directly at her.
“It wasn’t stupid to me.”
For the first time, she went quiet.
Only for a second.
Then she rolled her eyes.
“Fine. I’ll rent what I need.”
“Okay.”
She marched home.
Sophie opened the door behind me.
“That was terrifying.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Good terrifying?”
She considered it.
“Mostly.”
Friday passed.
Then Saturday morning arrived.
