“Your turn.”
Rachel’s eyes widened.
“No.”
The first biker approached.
The older man who had touched Cole’s shoulder.
He removed a folded stack of bills.
Dropped it into the jar.
Then said to Lily:
“Megan used to beat me at pool.”
Lily frowned.
“Were you bad?”
The man considered.
“Probably.”
Next biker.
Fifty dollars.
“Megan fixed my truck when three mechanics couldn't.”
Next.
One hundred.
“She hated country music.”
Cole said:
“She hated your country music.”
The biker smiled.
“Fair.”
Next.
Twenty.
“I taught her to ride.”
Cole immediately said:
“No, you didn't.”
“I taught her balance.”
“You dropped the bike.”
“Once.”
“Twice.”
Lily laughed.
One by one, they came.
Money.
Stories.
Not speeches.
Little pieces.
Megan loved cherry soda.
Megan was terrible at keeping secrets.
Megan once drove three hours to rescue a dog from a shelter because she saw a picture online.
Megan could rebuild a carburetor.
Megan cheated at cards.
Megan made Christmas gifts in July and forgot where she hid them by December.
The jar filled.
Then overflowed.
Rachel found another container.
Then another.
Neighbors began contributing.
Mrs. Bell crossed the street and placed twenty dollars on the table.
The man with the lawn hose gave ten.
The woman recording lowered her phone.
Walked over.
Dropped in fifty.
Rachel noticed.
The woman looked embarrassed.
“I thought…”
Rachel nodded.
“So did I.”
By sunset, Lily had sold exactly six cups of lemonade.
She had also collected more money than Rachel could count without sitting down.
Cole drank one cup.
He grimaced.
Lily stared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Is it bad?”
“No.”
“You made a face.”
Cole looked toward the bikers.
Every man suddenly became fascinated by motorcycles.
Lily crossed her arms.
“Tell me.”
Cole sighed.
“It’s very sweet.”
“That’s good.”
“It could dissolve a spoon.”
Lily gasped.
Rachel laughed.
“Lily used two cups of sugar.”
“In that pitcher?”
“Yes.”
Cole looked at the remaining lemonade.
“I've survived worse.”
Lily smiled.
“You bought it.”
“Unfortunately.”
He drank.
Rachel watched him.
Then looked toward the money.
Her chest tightened.
“Cole.”
He turned.
“I still can't accept all of this.”
His expression became serious again.
“Why?”
“Because you don't know us.”
“I know enough.”
“You know one moment.”
“Sometimes one moment tells you plenty.”
Rachel shook her head.
“This could pay bills.”
“Yes.”
“A lot.”