I touched the folder.
“She named me because she needed somebody she trusted to protect that idea until the building came back. The building is coming back.”
Across the table, Mr. Alvarez smiled.
Harlan looked down.
When he looked up again, something in his expression had softened.
“I support the amendment.”
The vote passed.
Not unanimously.
But clearly.
The Meridian would reopen.
And somehow I had become part of it.
Two weeks later, I made the payment to my landlord.
Not because Harlan gave me money.
He didn’t.
Not because I discovered a hidden fortune.
I didn’t.
I did it with two extra diner shifts, the money Tasha had insisted I accept for utilities she had never paid, and my first paycheck from the Meridian’s temporary events team.
I kept the apartment.
Barely.
But barely counted.
Three months later, I applied for a permanent job at the Meridian.
