“I was in college before this.”

  Amelia put her phone back in her pocket and shrugged. “On a full-ride scholarship,” she admitted. “I don’t think my mom will ever forgive me for giving it up. I do think I’ll go back someday, though. I just need a little time away from everything to get my head on straight.”

  “I see.”

  “I can reformat this as a chart if you’d like,” Amelia said in a hurry, taking her phone back out and starting to swipe at a new blank page.

  “No, that won’t be necessary.” Bell's forehead was creased with concern.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

  Bell took a small step back and crossed her arms.

  “Gianna just didn’t mention you were so sharp. This isn’t what I was expecting when she said she’d be sending a college dropout my way.”

  Amelia’s heart dropped into her stomach. She’d pushed Bell too far. She should have just kept her head down and done what was expected. Why did she always have to try so hard?

  “I’m sorry.” She wanted to turn away, or to cover her face. “I know that you have probably already tried everything. It’s not my place to make these suggestions. I hope you can forgive me and keep me on.”

  "Hmph!” Bell’s stern face held no sign of emotion. But after some time, a wry grin appeared as she scratched at a speck of dried milk on the counter with her fingernail. She sighed and dug into her pants pocket, pulling out a worn brown wallet.

  “Fifty dollars max. Use the business debit here. If you can design and print me some punch cards with that, we can start handing them out as soon as you’re ready.”

  Amelia took the card and jumped up and down with excitement. “You won’t regret this! Trust me.”

  Bell turned away and placed a ceramic mug back under the cabinet. “Hold your horses, now. I can’t pay you for the time you spend designing and printing them. This is on your personal time if you’re so intent to try it.”

  “Its fine!” Amelia assured her. “I’m happy to!”

  Bell removed her apron and wagged a finger in Amelia’s direction. “That said, keep a record of your time on that little phone of yours. If we do experience an increase in sales because of this little scheme, I’ll compensate you retroactively. Fair enough for ya'?”

  “Okay,” Amelia said, barely able to suppress a triumphant grin. Bell liked to act like she was hard to win over, but she had already shown a great deal of faith in Amelia and her ideas. More than any of her previous teachers or employers. “I’ll go to the library and get some printed today.”

  “No need to hurry,” Bell called out as Amelia made her way toward the door. “It probably won’t make a difference anyway.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “I’ll have them ready tomorrow!” Amelia called. “Tell your friends! Speaking of friends, do you have any artist friends?”

  “I might have one or two. Why?”

  “Just tell them to come by one morning. I want to pitch them a collaboration to them. They can make money while the shop makes money too.”

  Bell let out a tired sounding grunt in response, but a small smile feathered on her mouth as Amelia opened the door to leave.

  After finishing up at the Bell, she headed for the only bank in town to take care of her money problem. Watermill Valley Bank, also known as WVB Bank, was a locally owned branch with a building not much larger than a one-room schoolhouse. But to be truthful, Amelia preferred going into a bank like this rather than the anonymous behemoths the likes of which there were dozens of in her old city. In a bank like that, you were a person-shaped stack of dollar bills to them, not a human being.

  So, Amelia didn't mind when the teller smiled and said she hadn't seen her around here before. It told her that she would be considered a flesh-and-blood person.

  "Yeah, I just moved here. It’s my first time coming in."

  The room, which was welcomingly cool after walking through the heat outside, was empty of customers. It smelled of stale coffee, fresh paper, and a flowery air freshener.

  “Well, welcome to Watermill Valley! How can I help you today?”

  Amelia scanned the teller's name tag.?Celia.

  "Nice to meet you, Celia." She felt her body run hot with shame as she continued. "I was hoping you could help me apply for a credit card? Just something to help me make it from paycheck to paycheck."

  The teller didn't blink at the request, and Amelia finally let herself breathe. Instead of giving her a side eye for the request, the teller procured a small stack of brochures and handed Amelia one.

  "We've got options, missy! Take your pick. Let me know if you have any questions. My personal favorite is the WVB Rewards Ultra card. It would actually give you some benefits from the regular use you'd be giving it. That would be my choice if I were you."

  Relieved but still eager to get out of the bank, Amelia nodded and pretended to scan the brochure. The options blurred before her eyes and overwhelmed her. After a few moments she cleared her throat. "The WVB Rewards Ultra sounds fine."

  "Okie dokie! Let me just rustle up an application for you from the back."

  When Celia walked away, Amelia turned to the wall flanking the service counter and perused the wall hangings. Three black-and-white photos were arranged in a row. One was of a group of farmers, another showed a ribbon cutting in front of a town hall, and the last one was a picture of some tombstones in the town cemetery.

  Engrossed in the photos, Amelia jumped when she heard Celia’s voice.

  "Do you like the ancient history display?" Celia said as she stepped out from the back room.

  Before Amelia could reply, Celia answered with her own assessment. "I keep telling Howard that we should put something nice and pleasant up there to make people feel welcome. Something like rainforests or waterfalls. Or birds! Anything but tombstones. There isn't a one of us who needs more reminding about what the ultimate retirement plan is for all of us."

  “It’s not very cheery,” Amelia agreed.

  "But Howard says we're a local bank and it's our place to spotlight local history. Leave that to the library, I say. People are here to get cash to live their lives and to build their futures, not to commune with the past."

  "I don't know anything about this town, so I think these are very interesting." Amelia said. "Is there a local collection of photos like this in the library or something?"

  "Oh yes," Celia said. "That's what I've been saying for years. If people want to know about this town there are plenty of other places to learn more. We don't have to be galivanting as a history museum in addition to being a bank."

  "My house is an old farmhouse. I keep thinking that if I just understood it more that I would enjoy living there better."

  "Oh yes," Celia said. Her eyes flicked to the photograph of the farmers. "Used to be lots of old farmhouses in this town. They get remodeled and reconstructed, but at their bones they are still the dream of some old Bess and George."

  "Do you think I could find out some history about my house from the local records at the library?"

  "I'm not sure," Celia said. "Who knows what they got over there. The librarian is helpful enough. Whereabouts do you live?"

  When Amelia said the address of her home, Celia's eyes widened.