Summer's Crucible- Chapter Nine: Laughter Comes When it is Most Needed

Once the dust had settled after Mimsy's trial, Summer found it very sobering to admit that she had run her course regarding her relationship with the woman who had raised her. It was now too blaring to ignore that Mimsy would never see her as a daughter or even as a person she had any supportive interest in.

Summer envied that Heather had a loving family, but also felt like a hanger-on during the times that she had been invited to events with them previously. Rusty and Cecilia were friendly when they interacted with Heather, despite being divorced, something Mimsy was wholly incapable of understanding. This thought haunted Summer, who was regretful of the meaningful connections she seemed to lack within her life.

Strangely the outcome of the trial between herself and Mimsy showed cracks forming in Heather's well-being. It was as if she were inflicted with some unknown blight. Heather was tired, secretive, and overall snippy. She had become the opposite of the playful person she was known as. She had been doing so well for herself for some time, however, that seemed to have plateaued. Heather was in a sort of decline that should have worried Summer more had she not been so preoccupied with the happenings in court.

However, with Mimsy in an eight-by-ten cell for the foreseeable future, there was such a sense of relief for Summer to no longer have her every conversation be focused on Mimsy, the outcomes in court, to have to answer questions or ask questions about the now exhausted topic, that Heather's issues once again fell into the background noise of daily life.

This contributed to why when Summer was later approached by a law office, Druttle, and Telksen, she was reluctant to follow up. Despite her reservations, curiosity eventually got the best of her and she returned their calls. A secretary set up an appointment with an attorney by the name of Mr. Neiman McLads and his paralegal Mr. Ethan Koval. They were both eager to take on the case as a civil suit against Mimsy. Summer, on the other hand, had her concerns as to whether she wanted to follow through because it would require the last of her savings to keep them on retainer.

Throughout their meeting, Summer explained that she was almost certain that Mimsy was bankrupt from the many plastic surgeries, which was why she had to rely on a public defender in court. Ethan persuaded Summer by saying, “It's a gamble, we could go to court and lose, or we could go and you could come out on the other side of this with some compensation for your losses.” It was a lot to ask the nearly middle-aged and beaten-down Summer who had stretched her every penny to still be underwater with her mounting debts. One misstep and Summer would have to file for bankruptcy, thus dashing her hopes of defeating her difficult circumstances. Knowing she had to weigh the risks, Summer told them she would think about it, and went on her way, but not before Mr. McLads warned her that she was under a time crunch due to the statute of limitations.

At home that evening, Summer had all but shelved the idea of going to court again. It was something she found to be too much. Too much time, too many days off work, too many fees, too much stress. Summer's head hurt just thinking about it. In truth, she often escaped her worries by seeking refuge in her work managing Perfecto Burger and Catering to maintain her sense of stability away from the many lurking unknown outcomes of which she had her fill over the recent years.

Everything would have remained as it was except for two events lining up just so.

The first was that Brooke, the line cook at Summer's restaurant who was pregnant with her fourth baby, had to go on maternity leave early due to complications from high blood pressure. Summer learned of her situation thirty minutes after missing her shift start time. She had a few applicants lined up already, but in the meantime, she had to cover that shift herself until she had officially hired someone new to put on the schedule.

This caused the second event—Summer was too preoccupied to remember to hide from Bailey, who had a habit of dropping in to ask about her from time to time. She had always successfully avoided him up until that point.

That night at the restaurant was a busy one, as it was the first of the month. Summer was disheveled from manning the kitchen all day. Most of the staff had taken off or called out early because it was the night of the playoffs. This left her with only two recent hires to close with, Jerry and Averie.

The day had been very chaotic. Summer didn't recognize Bailey when he came in, his ballcap tipped low, hoodie hiding what time had taken from him. Jerry called to Summer just as she was trying to slip into her office for a break.

The grease-covered Summer was too exhausted to feel embarrassed when she saw Bailey, who was clearly amused by her current state. “I didn’t know you worked here,” he said, feigning surprise. “Good to see you, Summer.”

“Hi, Bailey. Isn’t this so unexpected?” she replied dryly before cutting him off. “I’m on break. Sit tight.”

After lingering in the back, she saw he hadn’t moved. Of course he hadn’t.

She approached him, already bracing herself.

“How’s the rental business these days?” she asked.

Bailey puffed up immediately. “I’m great. I’m officially a multimillionaire.”

He smelled like cheap alcohol. This wasn’t about catching up. It never was with him.

“That’s really something,” she said evenly. “You always had a business head.”

He grinned, taking the bait. “Maybe one day you’ll finally get something going for yourself too. You should be a little more ambitious than being a grill jockey.”

There it was.

Same Bailey.

Same small, cutting cruelty.

“I just bought another house,” he went on, shoving his phone toward her. “Half a mil.”

Summer glanced at it. $390,000. Over staged. Probably hiding issues.

“Half a mil?” she echoed mildly.

Bailey leaned back, smug.

Summer let a beat pass. Then, casually—

“You’re including closing costs in that?”

Bailey blinked.

“Because with lender fees, title insurance, escrow, prepaid taxes and insurance… you’re adding another few percent easy. Assuming your lender didn’t pad the origination.”

His grin faltered.

“And that’s if it appraises,” she added, tapping the screen lightly. “List price doesn’t mean much if the appraisal comes in low. You covering that gap in cash this time?”

Silence.

Summer tilted her head slightly. “Or did you waive appraisal contingencies again?”

His jaw tightened.

She continued, still calm, still almost polite.

“Did you factor in holding costs during rehab? Vacancy, utilities, insurance—they don’t stop just because the place isn’t tenant-ready.”

Bailey shifted.

“And that roof,” she added, glancing at the listing again, “that’s at end-of-life. You’ll see it in the inspection report—if you actually read it.”

Now his face was reddening.

Summer leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “You did pull the preliminary title report… right?” He froze. “Because if there’s a lien or an easement issue buried in the exceptions, you’re not buying an investment—you’re buying a problem.” The words landed. Hard.

“But hey,” she said lightly, sitting back, “maybe you ran a full rental analysis this time. Vacancy rates, maintenance reserves, post-purchase tax reassessment…”

Bailey stared at her. “And insurance,” she added. “Premiums aren’t what they used to be. Especially for rentals.” Silence stretched.

Then came the realization. Not just that she understood. But that she had always understood. All those conversations. All those deals. All those times he had talked over her, dismissed her, corrected her. She hadn’t been ignorant. She had been tolerant.

“You… never said any of that,” he muttered.

Summer’s expression didn’t shift.

“I tried,” she said simply. “You didn’t listen.”

A pause.

“After a while… it wasn’t worth correcting you.”

That broke him more than anything else.

Because it wasn’t anger.

It was indifference.

Bailey stood abruptly, knocking the booth. “You ain’t shit!” he snapped, storming out toward his truck.

Summer waved lazily after him. “Go to hell, Bailey.”

Jerry approached cautiously. “What was that?”

Summer stretched her back, wincing slightly. “A walking bad investment.”

Then, more seriously—

“Hey, he’s drunk. Have Averie call it in—suspected DUI. Plate number’s on the Post-it by the register.”

Jerry nodded.

Summer returned to her office, finishing onboarding paperwork for the new hire before closing up for the night.

At home, she collapsed into her recliner, too exhausted to move. Her back throbbed, her limbs heavy. Tomorrow would bring more orders, more emails, more work.

But she smiled. Because something had shifted. Bailey, ridiculous as ever, had unknowingly given her exactly what she needed. Clarity.

She reached for her phone and called the law office, leaving a message.

She was ready. It wasn’t long before retainers were paid and motions were set in motion.

Life wasn’t easy.

But for the first time in a long time—

Summer knew exactly who she was.

And more importantly—

Who she was not anymore.