Then she stopped because bookkeeping made the help feel transactional.
There were old e-transfer confirmations.
Receipts.
A bank draft.
A handwritten note Ethan had signed for the twenty-thousand-dollar business loan.
He had repaid four thousand.
Then payments stopped when the consultancy struggled.
June never mentioned it.
Below that was the contractor deposit.
Twelve thousand.
Below that, a receipt for appliances.
Six thousand eight hundred.
June stared.
She had paid for the refrigerator Claire once told her not to put magnets on because “it ruins the clean look.”
She laughed.
Not happily.
Then she added the amounts.
Consultancy loan still outstanding: sixteen thousand.
Renovation deposit: twelve thousand.
Appliances: six thousand eight hundred.
Wedding venue deposit she had paid two months earlier: ten thousand.
Total: forty-four thousand eight hundred dollars.
And that did not include hundreds of smaller things.
June worked at a hotel.
She was not wealthy.
Her pension would be decent because she had stayed employed for decades.
Her home was nearly paid off.
She had savings.
But forty-four thousand eight hundred dollars was not small.
It was years of sore feet.
Years of Christmas shifts.
Years of cleaning hair from shower drains and remaking beds because guests decided one pillowcase was slightly wrinkled.
June closed the folder.
Then she reopened it.
There was another envelope.
Marked WEDDING.
Inside were notes from Claire.
Not handwritten.
Printed emails.
June had saved them because she had been trying to keep track of what still needed payment.
