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Chapter Text

“He looks…peaceful.”

Louise snorted at her sister's clunky attempt at comfort. She thought about trying to cover the sound with a cough, but she didn’t want people to think she was sobbing up there. Behind them half the town had shown up, likely just to kiss up to her, and she didn’t need any of those vultures thinking she was easy prey. She reached into the box and brushed an imaginary piece of dust off the man’s shoulder.

“Sure,” she acquiesced, “Let’s go with that.”

Calvin Fischoeder, wealthy and eccentric landlord of Ocean Avenue, owner of Wonder Wharf Amusement Park and affiliated properties, and all around shady businessman had finally died at the ripe old age of eighty-three. Despite all rumor to the contrary, he had not been poisoned, assassinated, hexed, or died in an orgy. No, rather his lifestyle of lazing about, drinking like a fish and smoking like a chimney had just finally caught up with him. It wasn’t the story people wanted to hear, and Louise had to admit she didn’t think Calvin would have liked the news either. Her husband had always had a flair for the dramatic.

Tina began, “You know mom wanted to be here, it’s just-”

“I know, T,” the younger woman assured, reaching out to touch her sister’s arm for the briefest moment. Their time to view the body was drawing to a close and she’d be expected to speak soon. “Dad still isn’t talking to me.”

“There’s no way he sticks with it now,” the elder Belcher reasoned, her voice still a respectful whisper. “Now that Calvin died, he can’t just keep ignoring you.”

“We’ll see,” Louise mused, finally nodding her head one last time and stepping away from the casket. It was a large, ornate reimaging of a Viking funeral ship and had taken ten carnies to lift. She imagined she could hear the pier groaning under its weight as she turned to face the funeral procession. 

With her sister’s very unneeded assistance, Louise took to the podium that had been moved to the rear of the Wharf for today and cleared her throat into the mic. Everyone winced at the feedback. Wonder Wharf had been closed for the ceremony and in addition to nearly everyone that worked at the park, all employees of Family Funtime were present and almost all the residents of Ocean Avenue had come. Louise had no delusions that they were there to say a sincere farewell. They probably just wanted to make sure it was really him this time; the hoax three years prior had left a bad taste in their mouth.

“Uh, thanks everyone for coming,” she began, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. She saw Mickey and Yuli, a few of her old classmates, Teddy and Mort. Just lots of people. She wasn’t a nervous public speaker, but she’d never eulogized anyone before. She cleared her throat again. “Calvin would have been annoyed to see you all getting the day off.”

That sent a chuckle through the crowd and the atmosphere warmed a bit. Louise glanced over and Tina was right there, nodding encouragingly. “My husband wasn’t the most well liked man in this town, but he had a hand in literally everything so I think it’s safe to say he touched all our lives. Sometimes for the better, but usually not.”

Another chuckle and a choked sob somewhere from the back of the crowd. Louise thought she could see Ron comforting Hugo. “I know you’re all worried now about what’s going to happen to the Wharf and Ocean Avenue and all those places and things Calvin owned, but…I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It was what she had been wanting to say since the day she’d agreed to marry their landlord. That she would always keep her family and friends at the forefront of her mind and make sure they never had to worry or suffer again. Calvin Fischoeder had been shrewd and money hungry, but Louise Fischoeder had plans for them. Big plans. No more rent hikes, no more sudden evictions. She was going to repair and maintain the town, not plow it over for bigger, shinier things. Louise was going to fix everything her late husband had broken and then some. 

“I promise I’ll take care of us and…you don’t have to worry,” she assured one more time, catching the eye of anyone who would allow her to. Gretchen, Marshmallow, Mike, Nat. They were all counting on her now and she wouldn’t let them down. 

The crowd was silent for a beat and then there was the sound of a bottle shattering and a cheer from off near the ferris wheel. Critter, along with some other former members of the One-Eyed Snakes, were cheering for her and soon everyone else joined in. There was clapping and hollering and a cry of, “You go, Louise! That’s my best friend’s kid up there! She owns the town!”

Louise smiled at Teddy and gave an awkward wave before stepping down off the podium and turning to her sister again. Tina looked troubled, but she was clapping along with everyone else and pulled Louise into a hug once she was close enough. She called the eulogy perfect and said no one even noticed that she’d barely talked about Calvin and then she was ushering her away with an arm around her shoulder. The mic was open now for other people to speak and then some guys from Pickles were scheduled to perform, but a wealthy widow didn’t really need to stay for all that. She doubted anyone would say anything too nice and plus she had a lawyer to meet with.

The two young women hurried to the entrance of the amusement park where Louise had left her cart. Identical to Calvin’s in every way, except the license read ‘LILFSCH’, she had gotten into the habit of driving the silly thing everywhere just like her late husband. She hadn’t even bothered to get her actual license since the cart proved more convenient and cost effective anyhow. Tina grumbled her usual irritations about having to squeeze into the thing, but Louise only circled around to the drivers side, long black coat dragging behind her. She was just about to get in when a hand touched her shoulder.

“Louise?”

The young woman turned and immediately recognized the tear streaked face of Shelby Schnabel, famous sharpshooter and infamous homewrecker. Louise gasped and threw her arms around the woman not surprised at all when she felt the sobs starting to come. “Shelby! I didn’t think you’d make it in time.”

 “I wouldn’t have missed it for all the trickshot trophies in the world,” she huffed, voice wet and wobbly. Shelby was late into her seventies now and had been a regular fixture in their lives not too long after Calvin and Louise had said their vows. She’d been like a kindly grandmother to Louise. One that was sleeping with her husband, but still. “I can’t believe he’s gone!”

Louise blinked rapidly, not wanting to get emotional after all the days of putting up a good front. She pulled away from Shelby, clearing her throat and shoving her hands deep inside her coat pockets. It was Calvin’s coat. She said, “You should’ve been the one to give the eulogy. You knew him better,”

“Just because you were fine with me being the other woman doesn’t mean anyone else would be, dear,” she sighed, brushing one skeletal finger under her eye. “I’m just glad we got the years that we did. I can’t ever thank you enough for that, Louise.”

The younger woman nodded, her words caught somewhere in her throat. Shelby huffed dramatically, primping and preening as she stood to her full height once more. She wore an absolutely devastating black gown beneath a fur coat that could not have been made with anything less than thirty minks. It made Louise’s satin suit seem tawdry, especially hidden under Calvin’s Gucci trench with its kaleidoscope of patterns. 

“Are you staying for the burial?”

“Are they really going to light that thing on fire and send it into the harbor?”

“Open air cremations are illegal here,” Louise explained, though she gave a suggestive shrug and a wink. “I’m sure no amount of money could have convinced Mort otherwise.”

“Ah,” Shelby mused, a sad smile playing across her lips. She slipped a huge pair of sunglasses onto her face and began gliding back towards the park. “Maybe I will say one last goodbye before I go. I do hope we can stay in touch, Louise. I still need to teach you to shoot.”

“You’re my hero, Shelby!” the younger woman called after her, sliding into the go cart at last when she rounded the corner and was gone. Tina, who had been watching silently from her seat the whole time, gave her sister a meaningful look. “What?”

“Maybe if you told mom and dad your whole marriage was just a sham so Mister Fischoeder could finally be with Shelby they’d start talking to you again.”

Louise started up the cart and they jerked away from the curb, honking her little horn as they went. She grabbed her own sunglasses from the drink holder and popped them on. “What about sworn to secrecy do you not understand?”

Tina pretended to ponder, her monotone hum flapping on the wind behind them. “Maybe the part where you told me?”

“Sisters don’t count.”

Here were the facts:

When Louise Belcher had turned eighteen years old she had been approached by Calvin Fischoeder with a proposal of marriage. Calvin had made it very clear this would not be a traditional marriage, oh no. This was a ploy to finally attract his long lost love and notorious husband stealer, Shelby Schnabel. However, the sharpshooter would not be tricked by a simple skit again; they had to really commit. A real, legal marriage in the eyes of the law and a large blow out wedding that would be announced to the whole town and all surrounding areas. Shelby would be intrigued, Calvin would be waiting, and they’d carry out a passionate affair until she tired of him.

And Louise?

Louise would get all the benefits of being married to a moneyed mogul. Calvin had agreed, with almost desperate immediacy, to no prenup whatsoever. Louise Fischoeder, nee Belcher, would have access and control over all funds, which would be shared, and would be named as co-owner of all properties and products under the Fischoeder name. She’d have money, power, prestige, and would never ever have to perform any ‘wifely duties’ as it were. Calvin only had eyes for Shelby and Louise was just a means to an end. The only caveat was that she was to tell no one of their arrangement. The whole world had to think theirs was a legit and loving marriage so that Shelby would believe it too.

To Louise the offer had sounded nearly too good to be true and she’d had to think about it for a week before giving her answer. During that week she had of course spilled the beans to Tina who she in turn had sworn to secrecy. Tina was the only one she had told about all her plans to help out the family. To slowly use her influence through Fischoeder to fix Bob's Burgers and turn it into the popular hot spot she knew it could be. It had been Tina’s idea to spread that wealth throughout the town. To pay the carnies more. To repair the schools and libraries. To lower the rent. Tina’s ideas for how she could really help everyone had been the deciding factor. Louise had accepted the proposal, and a pretty impressive ring, from Calvin and her father hadn’t spoken to her since. 

Bob Belcher was pushing sixty, refusing to retire, and had taken the news of Louise getting engaged to Calvin Fischoeder about the way you’d expect someone to take the news that their eighteen year old daughter was planning to marry the seventy-nine year old man that had held them in a perpetual state of near poverty for two decades. He’d closed his newspaper, stood up from the breakfast table, and walked out of the room in stony silence. Linda Belcher, who had just been excited at the thought of a wedding, had assured her daughter she’d take care of everything, and hurried after her husband. Things didn’t improve much after that and Bob had refused to acknowledge his youngest daughter or attend her wedding.

That had been four years ago and now an end to the madness seemed on the horizon just as soon as Louise finished this meeting.

The two sisters jostled along in the golf cart, across town and to the impossibly long driveway of Fischoeder mansion. The gates were still open from the funeral procession earlier in the day and Louise cruised right through the way she had been for the last four years. It still felt odd, driving up to the huge house knowing she lived there. Odder still now knowing Calvin was nowhere inside. It would be sad and lonely and empty, but it wouldn’t be her problem for long.

“Let’s get this over with,” she sighed to her sister, dragging herself from the cart and up the front porch steps. Tina stepped lightly behind, a frequent guest who treated the house with far more reverence than it deserved. Inside Inga was waiting to take their coats, eyes pink and puffy from crying. Louise hugged her and gave her the next four days off before she headed for the parlor. She wouldn’t have much say over this place soon and she wanted to make sure the kindly woman got her time to grieve. In the parlor three people were waiting for them, none of whom were particularly pleased to see Louise.

“Made it back in one piece I see,” Felix Fischoeder announced as she entered the room. He was sprawled in a luxurious armchair he’d made one of the staff drag down from his tree house for exactly this encounter. He’d even had them light the fireplace. “Pity.”

“From your brother's funeral you mean,” Louise clarified, shrugging out of her husband's coat as she nodded a greeting to Fanny who barely glanced up from her phone. Her fingers tap-tap-tapped across the screen. “That you couldn’t even be bothered to show up to. Real classy.”

Tina shuffled in behind her sister and immediately her signature groan started to sound at its lowest decibel at the sight of the third person in the room. Louise looked at Grover Fischoeder the way she always did, which was to say out of the corner of her eye the way one would watch a particularly conniving house cat. Felix and Calvin’s cousin had gotten out of prison for good behavior a few months back and the two brothers had shockingly agreed to let him act as the family lawyer once more. Murder charges be damned! Louise had always thought Felix had played a heavy hand in that and had been exceedingly suspicious as to why right up to her husband’s death.

“Grover,” the young woman greeted, watching closely but covertly as he shuffled papers around on the coffee table. He still wore that obnoxious salmon suit from when she was a child and prison hadn’t done him any favors in the looks department. “Can we get this over with?”

Tina hadn’t taken a break to breathe through her groan and Fanny’s phone kept up a steady tap-tap-tap-tap.

“Ready when you are, Louise,” Grover chirped, taking the far too cool and casual tone he always used with her as if he hadn’t tried to murder them all the summer before Tina entered highschool. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

“Yes,” Felix agreed, “Let's finally end this charade so I can have papa’s money and this grubby little gold digger can finally be kicked out!”

Here were the facts:

Calvin Fischoeder had never confided in his high strung little brother the reasoning behind his marriage to Louise Belcher, but the younger man had always been suspicious of the arrangement. He’d convinced himself pretty immediately that Louise was just out to take the family fortune and start a bustling port town all her own. Felix had done everything in his power to break the ‘spell’ his big brother had been under and push Louise out of the house, but it had all been for not. Calvin, so wrapped up in his time with Shelby, hardly even noticed the way his sibling was constantly finding reasons to be in the big house. He attended every meal, every parlor game, every holiday event, every business meeting the two went to and spent the entirety of all of them scowling at his sister-in-law.

And Louise?

Louise had completely ignored or thwarted any and all attempts by Felix to ruin her marriage. She got new locks, new staff, new security systems and new safes for all their valuables to keep her brother-in-law in line. She stored her husband’s precious lion statue somewhere the grubby little man could never get his hands on it and she absolutely forbid Inga from sending laundry through the lines. She kept Felix so distracted he’d never even known Calvin was having an affair and that was how the married couple had liked it. 

It had been fun in a way, their cat and mouse game, but now it was coming to an end. When it seemed Calvin was reaching the end of his life and his health only continued to deteriorate, he and Louise had talked. The former burger flipper had never been one for serious deathbed confessions, but she’d sworn to follow through with everything her husband had arranged. She would keep what was owed to her as a wife and nothing more, Felix would get the rest. It was only a fraction of the Fischoeder fortune, but it was enough to take care of her, her family, Shelby, and a few choice properties she had insisted be left in her name. Wonder Wharf and Ocean Avenue were hers, Felix could sink the rest for all she cared. She hadn’t even asked for the house.

“It’s all in my will,” Calvin had said, his face tinged an oxygen starved blue at that point, “You’ll see.”

“Like you said, Grover,” Louise assuaged, lowering herself onto the leather couch at the center of the room. She lounged like a lion, maybe for the last time, and felt her sister come to stand behind her. “Ready when you are.”

“Excellent!” the skinny man enthused, shuffling around a bit more before picking up a stamped and notarized manila envelope. He showed it around to all of them like a magician about to perform a trick. “This is Calvin’s last will and testament. As you can see it has not been opened or tampered with since his last viewing of it six months before his death at which point he was of sound mind.”

They all nodded and Louise barely fought back the urge to announce, “Nothing up my sleeve and no strings attached!”

“I was not Calvin’s lawyer at that point in time, but this was released into my possession upon news and proof of his death from his former lawyer, Tom Innocenti.”

After another confirming nod Grover carefully sliced open the envelope with a gold tipped letter opener that had been left on the desk. He was giving off the jittery energy of a child excited to open Christmas presents and Louise wondered just what exactly Felix had convinced Calvin to leave him in the will. Out of the envelope slid a solitary piece of paper and Grover picked it up with a skeptical look on his face. It wasn’t even two sides, the rest of them were all looking at a blank page as the man read and reread the apparently very short missive.

“W-w-w-w-well this is j-just…um…huh?” he stammered, long face looking ashen as he glanced over the paper at them. Louise glared, but sat up as she saw Felix lean in with interest also. Fanny finally paused tapping away on her phone. Tina’s groan had stopped.

Grover gulped and haltingly began to read the form aloud, “I, Calvin Fischoeder, being of sound mind and absolutely rockin’ body hereby bequeath the entirety of my estate including Wonder Wharf, affiliated properties, my manor and grounds, the leasing agreements along Ocean Avenue and all of my fortune in all of its forms to my wife, Louise Fischoeder.”

Chapter Text

It was like a vacuum sucked all the air out of the room. Louise couldn’t hear or see or even think as the muted sound of Felix screaming his absolute head off tried to muffle its way through to her. In what felt like slow motion she turned to her sister, eyes wide and panicked and could tell just from the shape of the older woman’s mouth she had restarted her groaning. Louise couldn’t hear it though, she couldn’t hear anything but her own thudding heart until-

“THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!” Felix’s shriek was followed by a small scale explosion as he hurled a crystal tumbler of brandy into the fireplace. The room shook and Fanny screeched and Grover was stumbling all over himself, the will still clutched in his sweaty hand. 

“T-To my brother, ” he struggled to continue, barely audible over the sound of the other two’s incessant howling, “ I leave the long overdo lesson that to be something in this life you have to work for it, not wait for the next richest person to die. ”

“HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME?!” Felix looked absolutely feral and Louise remembered all at once Grover wasn’t the only murderer in the room. In a shot of clarity she was up from the couch and standing behind it with Tina, pushing her sister back towards the door. “THAT STUPID LITTLE WITCH TRICKED HIM!”

“ Louise -”

“There can't be more!” Fanny snapped, her face so twisted in rage her makeup made her look like a killer clown.

Grover huffed, blinking rapidly like he was fighting off a fainting spell. Louise knew the feeling. “Louise, everything is yours now and I’ll trust you’ll make something of it. I know this isn’t what we discussed, but I hope you’ll find the hidden meaning for it when the time is right. Please take care of Shelby if she’ll let you. Your husband, Calvin. ”

“This is a mistake,” Louise stammered, hardly processing that Tina had rushed forward and snatched the notarized document out of Grover’s hand. Her dead husband’s will. Her dead husband’s will that said she would be getting everything. “I don’t want all of it.”

“WELL, YOU CERTAINLY DON’T DESERVE IT!” 

The Belcher sisters flinched in unison and Louise didn’t jerk her fingers away when Tina grabbed her hand. In her usual monotone she noted, “We should go.”

“You’re not going anywhere until I get another lawyer in here to prove that you forged that will!” Felix insisted, pointing a chubby finger at them both as Fanny flounced out of the room, cell pressed to her ear and whine so high only dogs could hear it. “I won’t let you get away with this, Louise!”

“Let's try to calm down, Felix,” Grover said, clearing his throat hard, a visible sweat breaking out on his brow. “There’s no way she tampered with it, Tom had it in his personal possession until just this morning.”

“Well, then she seduced my brother into leaving her everything!” the blonde huffed, raking thin wisps of hair back from his tomato red face. “There has to be something we can do!”

Louise didn’t hear the rest, Tina turning and yanking them out of the room before any more could be said. The two sisters tripped out of the manor, Tina groaning all the way down the drive as Louise just followed in a stupor. Outside was too bright, too exposed, her skin felt too tight so that even the cool breeze stung like knives. She’d left Calvin’s coat behind. Her big sister had her bent and bundled into the golf cart before she could think too hard about going back for it, long fingers digging into her pocket for the novelty keychain. “Eat the Rich.”

“Huh, huh, huh!” Tina’s voice yelped endlessly as she flipped and fumbled the keys to start up the cart, the tiny battery cranking to life as she stomped the gas too hard and they lurched into motion. “Huh, huh, huh!”

“Tina, what the hell just happened back there?” Louise asked the sky, feeling like she was frozen in the position she’d been shoved into. The day was gray and overcast and salt air whipped by them as they went Tina only knew where.

“You just became a millionaire, Louise!” the older woman shouted, an uncanny mix of shock, irritation, and elation making her declaration seem more nonsensical than it already was. She pounded the wheel and a comical honk sounded. “Maybe even a billionaire! Huh, huh, HUH !”

Louise balked at those words, trying and failing to associate them with herself. Even when Calvin had been alive Louise had never considered herself to be wealthy, only married to a wealthy person. The same way entitled frat boys liked to humble brag, ‘ I’m not rich, my parents are rich ’ Louise had moved about town assuring people just because her husband was loaded didn’t mean she was too. It had been a lie, meant to placate everyone, herself included. She had plans for the money, sure, but that didn’t mean she had been flaunting it all over the boardwalk. The plan had always been to put it back into the community for as long as she could and then give control over to her neighbors when the time was right.

She’d actually been planning to sell each person's property to them after Calvin was gone. Since she’d only asked for the businesses along Ocean Avenue, that really only included a few shops, Mort’s, her parents' restaurant, and more empty storefronts than not. She’d have sold those to whoever seemed like they could handle the location, but now? Now the entire town was under her control and that seemed like a lot more responsibility than she had signed up for. How was she meant to take care of everyone and everything while also making sure she didn’t sink the Fischoeder name and therefore the town?

“Pull over, I’m gonna fuckin’ puke.”

Tina totally ignored her and the two sisters went puttering into town, the little golf cart rocking over uneven pavement and jostling them around. Was she in charge of making sure the roads got repaved now? When Tina yanked them onto Ocean Avenue, Louise could have screamed at the normalcy she spotted everywhere. Kids were playing, Speedo Guy was skating, raccoons were having fancy brunch dates. It was like the whole world was just going on with their happy business not realizing Louise Fischoeder now literally owned the place she had grown up in.

“Holy shit, Teddy was right.”:

“Don’t hear that often,” Tina noted airily, rolling them to a jerky stop in front of perhaps the last place Louise wanted to be at that moment. She cringed up at the window front of Bob’s Burgers and shrank further down into her seat. Her sister was already out on the curb and staring at her. “Come on, mom and dad will know what to do.”

“What gives you that insane idea?” Had her parents come into an obscene amount of money unexpectedly at some point these last few years? Louise could now bet a hefty sum on the answer to that being ‘fuck no ’. Tina only glared at her and Louise could hardly stand to meet her eye. “Fine.”

Realizing belatedly she was still in her satin suit from the funeral, her mourning attire, Louise sighed and followed her big sister into their family restaurant. The smell of grease hit her like a punch in the face just like it always used to and the young woman took in her old place of employment. She hadn’t stepped foot into Bob’s Burgers, hadn’t really considered herself welcome to, since she’d gotten married and she was all at once amused and devastated to see that absolutely nothing had changed. The booths were still a little dirty and a lot empty. The counter that they had replaced when she was nine had not been replaced since and was starting to show signs of wear and tear. It didn’t look like any of the appliances had been upgraded or replaced in all this time, and Louise felt a scowl forming on her face. She knew she had sent money and equipment through the years. Where had it gone?

From back behind the window she could hear patties sizzling and her mother chuckling and she felt like she was a kid again, skipping in to work late with a plan to harass her siblings already forming in her mind. The scowl slowly dropped and she glanced over at the burger of the day. The Lettuce Bray Burger: A Braised Bratwurst Patty served with Lettuce Slaw. She snorted and lowered herself carefully onto a stool as Tina invited herself behind the counter and into the kitchen.

“Oh, Tina!” Linda could be heard greeting her eldest, “How was the funeral? Is Louise alright?”

“Louise is here, but mom, something crazy happened-!”

“LOUISE IS WHAT?!”

The young woman braced herself and was sitting straight as a curtain rod when her mother came barreling out of the kitchen like the proverbial bull in the China shop. Linda Belcher had aged well enough, her hair a feisty salt and pepper combination while the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth had grown deeper and softer. She still wore her signature red shirt and jeans and they still looked good on her but she had also added a bedazzled fanny pack to the ensemble some years ago. A place to keep Bob’s pills and maybe a little snack she had said.

“MY BABY!” Her voice had not weakened with age at all and her scream had Louise wincing painfully as her mother tackled her in a bone crushing hug. “OH MY GOD! I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS- I’M SO SORRY ABOUT MISTER FISCHOEDER AND YOUR FATHER -!”

“Mom!” Louise ground out, throat feeling traitorously tight as she made no move to free herself from her mother’s embrace but instead focused on getting the woman to lower her volume. “It’d be really shitty if you made me go deaf the first time we see each other in years and the day I light my late husband on fire.”

“Oh god,” Linda gasped, pulling away only just far enough so she could look her youngest in the face. She smelled like french fries and Louise's eyes were watering. “Are they really going to light that thing on fire and send it into the harbor?”

Louise snorted a wet laugh and pulled her mom back into a hug, much to the woman’s surprise. Bony fingers brushed through her too thick hair and Louise felt her breaths stuttering and shuddering as she muttered, “He’s gone, mom.”

“Oh, honey…”

The tears came then, thick and cold, and Louise cringed internally at the fact she was crying, sniffling, sobbing into her mother’s arms like some sad depressed widow before realizing that’s exactly what she was. Her husband had died and in his wake left a literal world of troubles on her shoulders which was bad enough, but Louise was just noticing for the first time that she was actually sad . She hadn’t given much thought to how she felt about Calvin over the years, but there in the safety of Linda’s hold Louise could finally acknowledge she missed the man. Not in a heartbroken lover kind of way, but in a lifelong friend kind of way. 

Louise Belcher had grown up with Calvin Fischoeder stopping by at minimum once a month. More so once the mogul seemed to realize he actually liked Bob Belcher as a person and not just a tenant. He was always just there on the peripherals of Louise’s life navigating some ludicrous scheme with his crazy brother and pulling the ‘Burger People’ along with him. Eventually he felt less like a landlord and more like a friend, especially to Louise who had no qualms about asking for help with her own devilish plots. Calvin was always available to conspire, always amenable to nonsense. He made Louise feel like you could accomplish anything if you just had enough nerve and money to back you up.

And then they’d gotten married in a ludicrous, devilish, nonsensical conspiracy and Louise had spent four years at his side. Laughing and lauding and living in a way the former waitress had never really believed she’d be able to. Calvin had opened doors for her that she hadn’t even known existed and all he’d asked for in return was her silence and her cooperation. In a lot of ways it had cost her her family, but she’d never thought the situation would be permanent, never not known her mother would welcome her back just like this. She hadn’t ever been worried and it was because Calvin had been with her the entire time. He’d been a reassuring confidant in her darkest moments the last few years, her closest friend and partner.

And now he was gone.

And Louise was sad.

“It’ll be alright,” Linda promised, squeezing her youngest tightly, her own tears plop, plopping into her daughter’s hair. “We’re here for whatever you need, Louise.”

“We really need to talk to you and dad,” Tina intoned, having followed her mother out of the kitchen and stood a safe distance away as her sister cried. Tina was an expert on emotions, but knew sometimes Mom Magic trumped anything she could say to her siblings. “You won’t believe what happened after the funeral-!”

“Could the rumors be true?!” a jovial voice called from behind the window. Louise sniffed, pulling away from Linda as a curly head of hair poked through the kitchen door. “Hey, little sister!”

“Hey, Zeke,” Louise greeted, rubbing roughly at her eyes in an attempt to hide the evidence that she had actually experienced an emotion. “How’s it hangin?”

“A little to the left,” the line cook joked, earning Linda and Tina’s side eye as he stepped all the way into the dining area. He was wiping his hands on a dish towel. His smile was wide, but subdued as he said, “Sorry to hear about your old man.”

Zeke had gotten taller and wider as he’d gotten older and was now a few inches taller than even Bob. He’d applied for a job at the restaurant right out of highschool and the family had been happy for the extra set of hands. The idea of having to pay someone an actual living wage had been daunting, but Zeke had been adamant the experience on his resume would be payment enough. Seven years in the kitchen and now six years into a relationship with his fellow line cook and Louise had a hunch the guy had never been planning to go anywhere.

“Thanks.”

“Mom, Zeke, this is really important!” Tina fumed, shooting her boyfriend a consternated look as he only blinked at her, throwing the towel over his shoulder. “Mister Fishoeder left Louise-”

“Do mine eyes deceive me?!” a sing-song voice accompanied the chiming of the door bell. They all turned and watched as Gene Belcher, clad in a leotard made entirely of sequins and feathers flounced through the door, an absolutely enormous pair of sunglasses on his face. “Louise Fischoeder, as I live and breathe!”

“Gene!” Linda absolutely lit up just like she always did at the sight of her not-so-secretly favorite child. “You look amazing, as always. How was the funeral, my little lamb?”

“Not a dry seat in the house once we were done with it,” the man stated proudly, pushing his sunglasses up to reveal glittery eyeliner and drawn on heart shaped freckles. “Though the widow wasn’t polite enough to stay and support.”

Louise cringed in genuine guilt as she recalled that she had asked the local strippers to perform the final send off for Calvin. She had specifically requested Gene, the Sparkling Diamond of Pickles, to choreograph and lead the whole thing. The young woman had been so wrapped up in everything else that day she’d completely forgotten to stay and support her big brother’s performance. 

Gene, like Tina, had not balked at Louise’s impromptu engagement announcement. Instead he had just declared the whole thing ‘ a gag ’ and been fabulously supportive throughout. He’d stood beside both his sisters at a slapdash wedding that wouldn’t have even had any music if not for him. He kept regular and open communication with Louise even when their parents, their father in particular, had voiced their displeasure with the whole thing. Gene Belcher, stripper extraordinaire and all around good guy, didn’t care one bit that his sister had seemingly only married for money and let the whole world know he was now extremely adjacent to aforementioned money.

“Oh shit, Gene, I’m sorry,” Louise huffed honestly, sliding from the stool to accept a hug. Gene smelled like body oil and berry vape. “Today’s just been insane.”

“No worries,” he assured, holding his sister a little longer than was standard, his chin rested over her shoulder and his arms tight around her middle. “You probably weren’t ready for my jelly anyway.”

“Definitely not,” she agreed, pulling away to find her suit now covered in glitter. She sparkled. It was fun. “How’d it end?”

“Guys-!”

“Spoiler alert, he died!”

“Gene!”

Louise snorted in shock, a sincere chuckle of mirth falling from her mouth at her brother and mother’s equally scandalized looks while Tina just seemed annoyed. The youngest Belcher missed this while away. Sure she got to see Gene and Tina whenever she wanted, but the dynamic they all had with their parents had been sorely absent from her life for what felt like ages. She’d never admit it under threat of death, but Louise was one of the few early twenty-somethings that actually liked her whole family. Her siblings were fun and supportive and her parents had given her the freedom to be herself for as long as she’d been forming conscious thought. Until Calvin, there had never been any judgment or secrets in their household and the young woman had always known to consider herself extremely lucky for this fact. 

Louise, Gene, and Tina didn’t have estranged parents who could hardly stand to talk to each other like Rudy or an overbearing show-dad that was living vicariously through them like Courtney. Bob and Linda were unapologetically themselves and had raised their children to be the same. No one was prouder of Gene’s illustrious life on the stage than Linda and Bob had taken Zeke under his wing sincerely as soon as he’d realized Tina was harboring a crush on him that could rival whatever she once felt for Jimmy Junior. Louise too had been nothing but praised and encouraged for her whole life right up until she had married their landlord and even then she’d known her dad was just hurt and Linda was just confused.

It’s not like her parents hated her.

“URGH! GUYS!” Tina called their attention back, hands fisted at her sides and Zeke trying to rub her shoulders calmingly. “I really think we should talk about Louise’s inheritance!”

“ Inheritance ?”

All three of them said it differently; Zeke with a tone of confusion, Linda, surprise, and Gene as if he were reading off a cue card in a D-Rated horror film. Louise huffed as the nausea she’d been experiencing earlier came back in full force and she dropped down into the seat of the first booth. They were all staring at her like she’d grown a second head and her satin suit was sticking in the spots where her sweat was pooling. She wished she could have just kept catching up with them like nothing life changing had happened that day besides her burying her husband, but already Tina was pulling the notarized document out of her pocket. Her dead husband’s will. Her dead husband’s will that said Louise would be getting everything.

Tina read, “I, Calvin Fischoeder, being of sound mind and an absolutely rockin’ body hereby bequeath the entirety of my estate including Wonder Wharf, affiliated properties, my manor and grounds, the leasing agreements along Ocean Avenue and all of my fortune in all of its forms to my wife, Louise Fischoeder.”

“Do what?!”

“Oh my god!”

“We’re rich!”

“Well,” the last voice startled each of them to turn around. Standing by the other kitchen door, clearly having just trudged up from the walk-in was the namesake of Bob’s Burgers. Bob Belcher looked even older than the last time Louise had seen him and it made her feel even sicker than the paper her sister was holding. Her father had a bowl of freshly ground meat in his hands and a disapproving frown on his face. “That’s just great.”

Chapter Text

Louise fingered the rim of her coffee mug nervously, chancing occasional glances up at her father who was looking down into his own mug like it held all the secrets of the universe. Whether he liked to admit it or not, Bob Belcher looked more and more like his late father every year. With a completely gray mustache and hardly any hair left on his head, his youngest child felt almost like she was seeing a stranger when she looked at him. When had her dad gotten so old? So wrinkled? So small? How long had he been fading away in front of all of them?

“I was…sorry…to hear about Mister Fischoeder,” Bob muttered, breaking a silence that thus far had only been split up by Linda puttering around and bringing them coffee before shooing everyone else out of the dining area. “I know you…loved him, or whatever.”

“Pfft,” Louise scoffed, not really sure how she was meant to respond to that. She didn’t believe for one second her father actually thought she cared about Calvin, but guessed Linda had beaten some semblance of shame into him over the years. “Thanks, dad.”

“So what happens now?” the man wondered, thick brows furrowing. Louise mirrored the expression back at him. “He left you everything so…what, you own us now?”

“Calvin never owned you,” Louise reasoned, glancing around their restaurant. Had this place been sincerely owned by any Fischoeder, living or dead, it wouldn’t be in such dire straits. Or be so dirty. “I’m your landlord. I’m everyone’s landlord, it’s not that big a deal.”

Bob hummed, glancing over to the kitchen window. Louise looked and was just in time to see a head of black hair duck out of sight. Her mom or siblings then. Her father grouched, “So I’ll just explain to my daughter why I’m late on rent every month, hm?”

The words ‘ You don’t have to pay rent anymore ’ were on the tip of Louise’s tongue, but she swallowed them up. She just knew her too-proud-for-his-own-good dad would hate any perceived charity. Could see it in the absence of any appliances she’d sent over the years being used. Were they just down in the walk-in gathering dust? Had he thrown them away? What about the money? She hoped Linda had squirreled it away somewhere and not spent it all on little porcelain babies.

Bitter from more than just the coffee all of a sudden, Louise Fischoeder (nee Belcher) shot back, “If you have such a problem with the owner, maybe you should just move.”

It had been a regular threat at neighborhood meetings for as long as Louise could remember. Fischoeder was too money hungry, the area was too dead, the rent hikes were too exorbitant, ‘ We should all just move’ ! Few people had the means or the balls to actually go through with it though and Bob Belcher had never been one of those people. Their business, their home, their lives were all tied up on Ocean Avenue and even if they had been able to afford to move somewhere better (or worse), Louise’s dad had always seen leaving as a sign of defeat; of failure. ‘It’s the principle of the thing!’ he would say even as their friends and neighbors tore down their business signs and drove off into the sunset.

Louise had always secretly thought he was just too scared to start over somewhere new; that her parents didn't have it in them to do it all a second time.

It used to make her furious.

“Is this why you married him?” Bob huffed, looking tiredly at her, completely ignoring the jab in favor of his own. “Because you thought we were doing so bad you had to weasel your way into Fischoeder’s good graces to save the restaurant?”

It hurt to hear.

Louise had always known her father’s opinion of her wasn’t as squeaky clean as her siblings and even that it had plummeted after she got married, but hearing him imply that she’d slept her way to financial security on their account was hard to stomach. Tears pricked her eyes and her face flushed with anger as she dropped her gaze to glare at the table top. From back in the kitchen she heard a gasp and a flurry of whispers and knew her mom, Tina, Gene, and Zeke had all heard the accusation. Her skin felt tight with shame.

It wasn’t true .

Not completely. 

But it wasn’t not true.

Calvin Fischoeder and Louise Belcher had agreed to an arrangement that primarily was to benefit his budding relationship with Shelby, but it wasn’t as if his wife had suffered. Louise lived in a big house with an attentive staff, had an unlimited bank account and was allowed to do really whatever tickled her fancy all day every day. She’d quickly fallen in with her husband's creed of Nothing Makes Me Happy. Her hobbies included sailing, riding around in the passenger side of Calvin’s cart, and whacking golf balls at Felix’s treehouse. She didn’t work, she hadn’t gone to school, and she never helped out in the restaurant any more. Louise Fischoeder was a kept woman and that fact had never bothered her until she saw the disappointment on her father’s face.

A single tear landed on the table top with a ‘prap !’ and Bob’s face softened visibly. He sighed, leaning back in the booth as Louise brushed hurriedly at her face, not meeting his eye. Pushing a coffee stained napkin over to her, he muttered, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Better than nothing,” Louise huffed, taking the napkin to wipe at her cheeks and chin. The tears kept coming. At Bob’s confused face she scowled. She waved a finger between them. “‘ This hawk and this chick will never not talk for thirty years’ .”

Bob had the decency to look stricken before he frowned and rolled his eyes. They were pink around the edges. “It hasn’t been thirty years, Louise.”

“No, but my husband died and you didn’t even call.” The last few words garbled into a sob that shocked through Louise like a sneeze. She clenched her eyes shut as more tears came and then she was crying again. Behind her clenched eyes she heard the sound of her dad struggling to stand and her mom rushing out of the kitchen.

“Louise,” her parents soothed in perfect tandem, both of them squeezing into the booth seat beside her. Squished between the wall and her dads ever expanding belly, Louise felt suffocated. She huffed and puffed and cried her eyes out as Linda reached around her husband to grasp her daughter's wrist.

Louise wasn’t crying about Calvin, she’d already done that once today. She was crying about the fact she hadn’t gotten a hug from her dad since she was eighteen. She was crying because Tina said her room had been turned back into a closet. She was crying because her mom’s hair was going gray. She was crying because while she had been out living, her family had still been struggling to make ends meet and for four years her father had refused to accept her help, or offer her any in return.

“You didn’t call,” she repeated breathlessly, the shock of that statement hitting her for perhaps the first time. Her husband, the man whose name she had taken, had kicked the bucket and her dad couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the phone because he was angry at her. For something he didn’t even fully understand. “You didn’t call, dad!”

“I’m sorry,” Bob said at last, whole face etched with regret, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I should have called.”

“We wanted to, honey,” Linda assured, leaning over the table so she could stare at her youngest. Louise had her face turned down and away, sniffling to the wall. “ Before Calvin died, but the longer we waited the more awkward it felt and after a few years we thought maybe you wouldn’t want to hear from us.”

Louise heaved a great breath, struggling to get herself back under control. She felt dizzy and hot, nauseous and full. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried, let alone twice in one day. It was exhausting. When she felt like she could speak again without going into hysterics she turned back to her parents. The booth wasn’t meant to fit three of them, they were squashed in like sardines, but she fought the urge to shove them away. She’d wanted them this close for a long time.

She assured, “I wanted to hear from you. I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me .”

Bob’s chuckle was sad but genuine, “Really take after you old man, huh?”

“Which really just means I take after grandpa,” Louise reasoned, overtly looking her father up and down. Her eyes were sore. “You’re starting to look like him, old man.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Bob sighed as Linda slid from the booth, easing the pressure on all of them. Louise breathed easier.

“Well, I know this is a sad day, but I’m so happy to have my baby home! We gotta do something special!” Linda declared, eyes puffy and smile wide. “We’ll have a nice dinner to toast Mister Fisch and my baby Louise!”

Bob nodded amiably and turned to Louise to confirm. There were few things the youngest Belcher wanted more than to head upstairs to her childhood home and eat her mom’s cooking while her brother and sister went on about their days. She wanted to share conspiratorial looks across the dinner table with her dad and playfully grill Zeke about his intentions with Tina. She wanted to just slip back into her old life like no time had passed at all, an orchid blooming again after months of dormancy, but she couldn’t. She had a whole town's worth of responsibilities resting on her shoulders now and the weight of that expectation made her too queasy to even think of eating or sleeping or laughing or playing. She grimaced at her parents.

“I really need to talk to you guys,” she intoned, following her parents’ lead and lifting herself slowly out of the booth. Her suit was wrinkled and ruined and out of place here, but still she fiddled with the hem of the jacket anxiously. “Calvin left me a lot of money…like… all the money and…I don’t know what to do.”

Bob and Linda turned to each other, having a silent conversation with their eyes. They had used to do this a lot when Tina, Gene, and Louise had been children, communicating with tiny looks and hums and shrugs. It wasn’t to maintain privacy, their family was almost painfully devoid of secrets, it was just a habit. The two of them had been together for several years before marriage and children and so just seemed to know each other better than anyone else. Linda would smile sneakily and Bob would know she wanted wine and crackers. Bob would huff under his breath and Linda would know Teddy was pushing his last button. The two were just in sync and Louise watched with equal parts annoyance and jealousy as they discussed her predicament right in front of her without saying a single word.

Linda cleared her throat and Bob raised both brows in response. Then the man shook his head incessantly and his wife pursed her lips. When she put a hand on her hip, Louise knew the whole thing was about to be over. Her father heaved a sigh and moved around to sit on the other side of the booth again. Louise frowned as her mother gently pushed her back into her own seat before leaving with their still full and now freezing cups of coffee. Bob looked like he was fighting back the urge to mutter his trademark ‘Oh my god’, but he met his daughter’s eyes all the same.

“I’m guessing this came as a bit of a surprise?” he inquired, seeming to tiptoe around his previous accusations of Louise being in it solely for the money. She nodded, letting him off the hook easily enough.

“I only asked for Ocean Avenue leases and Wonder Wharf, not the whole town,” she insisted, not sure if anyone would believe her once they knew. 

Scandalously young widow of eccentric mogul gets everything in his last will and testament? 

She’d be lucky if people didn’t accuse her of murdering Calvin for the money. 

She’d be lucky if Felix didn’t murder her for the money. 

A cold sweat broke out on Louise’s brow as she remembered her absolutely livid brother-in-law still up at the manor doing, saying, and ruining god only knew what. She admitted, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Your mom and I won’t be much help,” Bob huffed, looking as sympathetic as he was able. “You’ll need to look at all Calvin’s finances, go over the leases, sort out the expenses. It’s going to be a lot.”

The bell over the door rang then and a young couple walked in, making their way to a booth near the front. Louise nearly jumped out of her skin, but eased as Linda called a greeting from the counter and Tina came out of the kitchen to take their orders. She’d forgotten momentarily they were in an open and functioning restaurant right now and not in some private hideaway where she could air out all her problems. The restaurant had always been so familiar and comfortable to Louise, the patrons just brown noise in the background of her life. She hadn’t worked there in years but still she’d fallen right back into feeling like she could fall asleep in the booth. Could stand on top of the counter.

“Wait here,” Bob said, groaning as he got up from the booth and made his way towards the kitchen. The couple had ordered the burger of the day and even after all these years, Bob still insisted on making every special himself. Zeke handled all other orders including Teddy’s usual which Louise had to assume he’d pried from the handyman’s freakishly strong grip.

Once she was alone in the booth, Louise took a moment to compose herself further. Her eyes and cheeks felt scratchy from salt water and her throat was sore. At this point the funeral had ended a few hours ago and she didn’t doubt soon everyone who had attended would be milling around town. She really didn’t feel like seeing anyone, especially anyone whose financial future now sat in her back pocket. They’d undoubtedly have questions the young woman would have no clue how to answer and her inexperience with owning a town would become glaringly obvious. People would worry and then people would talk and then before too long there’d be a mob outside her house demanding she hand over Calvin’s fortune to someone who actually knew what to do with it. Nat maybe; she seemed like she could take on the role of Bond villain-esque millionaire.

A plate of hot fries was set down in front of her and the young twenty-something glanced up to see her brother and sister sliding into the seat across from her. Gene had gone upstairs at some point and changed into his regular clothes, but his face was still painted for the funeral. Squinting more closely at him, Louise could see the heart shaped freckles were also smattered with little sequin stars. Her brother’s whole face shimmered and glittered as he moved and that coupled with his favorite yellow shirt from youth (that now fit him more like a crop top) made him look more like himself than any other costume he had donned the last few years.

Gene Belcher had grown up to be a perfect combination of Linda and Marshmallow. With thick hair that he wore in a mullet and a tall, wide frame perfect for gyrating, he was actually quite the looker if you had any semblance of taste. He traipsed around town in sheer outfits, leaving a trail of glitter and laughter everywhere he went and Louise loved him for it. He was unapologetically himself and a friend to absolutely everyone he met. The family didn’t know how long his big personality could be confined to their little beach town, but they were all just happy to have him around for as long as they could. He smiled at Louise when he sat, already moving to drown their fries in ketchup as Tina frowned at him.

Tina Belcher had gotten taller with age and…that was really all. She still had the same style glasses, the same haircut, the same monotone voice, and the same ataraxic attitude she had had when they were kids and the consistency of that made Louise feel good. It had lulled her into a false sense of security and stagnation during the time she was away, tricking her into thinking ‘Well, Tina hasn’t changed much, so everything else must be just like I left it too’.

But Tina had changed.

She was braver and more confident. She didn’t look to her younger siblings for guidance anymore, but rather offered guidance to them. Louise didn’t know when it had happened really, but Tina had become the first person she went to for advice or a friendly ear rather than someone she tried to trick or swindle in exchange for restaurant chores. She guessed Zeke probably had something to do with it; he praised the woman within an inch of her life. Not that her family wasn’t complimentary but Louise could tell it was just different. Her family made Tina feel loved, sure, but Zeke made her feel powerful. It suited her.

“What am I gonna do, T?” she sighed, reaching for a fry on instinct, mouth already watering. She hadn’t really eaten all day. It burnt her tongue. The ketchup soothed it.

“We’ll figure it out, trust me” the older Belcher assured, dark eyes flitting all over her little sister's face. Louise sighed, but nodded as she reached for another fry before her brother ate them all. “I think you should get a fiduciary.”

“Tina, please,” Gene smacked around his most recent bite, “I’m eating!”

“What’s a fiduciary?”

“It’s someone who manages your money,” Tina explained, pulling her phone from her pocket and sliding it across the table. It was opened to Wikipedia of all things and Louise frowned, but still read the highlighted part her sister was pointing at.

A fiduciary is a person who holds a legal or ethical relationship of trust with one or more other parties. Typically, a fiduciary prudently takes care of money or other assets for another person.

“What, so like…Gerald?” the youngest sibling tested, brow furrowed as she slid the phone back. Tina shook her head.

“Gerald’s an accountant, he goes over financial paperwork after the fact.” The woman blinked behind her wide rimmed glasses. “You should probably still talk to him, but this isn’t what he does.”

“A fiduciary manages your money and property,” Gene piped up, licking ketchup and salt from his fingers idly. “By law they have to make financial decisions that are in your best interest. Technically anyone can do it, but you should probably find someone with a background in business or finance.”

Tina and Louise just stared at their brother. Gene continued picking at fries, totally unaware of their confused gazes until he cleared the plate and looked up. When they both just raised curious brows at him, the dancer shrugged. 

“Ken had to become a fiduciary for his mom, it was a whole thing.”

“Ok, so…I need to hire someone who's good with money to handle my money?”  Louise clarified, glancing between her siblings who both nodded. She sighed. “Perfect. Shouldn’t be too hard in a town full of failing businesses.”

“Didn’t Mister Fischoeder have a financial advisor?” Tina wondered, picking her phone back up and starting to tap away at the screen.

“I have no idea,” Louise groaned, leaning back in her seat and running a hand roughly down her face. She was exhausted. “We never talked about that kind of stuff, I just assumed he had all his money buried in the backyard like a beagle.”

“Pretty smart when you consider the way the banks are going,” Gene mused.

“Here,” Tina leaned forward with her phone again, angling it so her brother and sister could both see. They all leaned in. “This is a financial planning firm in town. Maybe we go there and ask for help?”

Louise grimaced at the name, May the Funds Be with You: Financial Planners, but conceded she had no other starting points to consider. She glanced over the company website quickly, checked they definitely had qualified fiduciary advisors on staff, and cringed her way through their mission statement:

Welcome to May the Funds Be with You: Financial Planners, where we embark on a financial journey to a galaxy far, far away! Our mission? To help you master the Force of finance and navigate the financial Death Star with confidence. As Yoda once said, 'Do or do not, there is no try'—and with our expert guidance, you'll do more than try, you'll succeed. Whether you're saving for your own Millennium Falcon or planning retirement on the forest moon of Endor, trust in the wisdom of our financial Jedi Masters. Remember, 'In my experience, there is no such thing as luck'—only sound financial planning and strategic investments. With us by your side, may your investments be strong, and may the funds be with you!

“Well, I’m sold,” Gene announced, tone saucy as his younger sister only huffed and leaned back in her seat. Tina eyed her meaningfully and Louise groaned in response.

“Fine,” she conceded, “First thing tomorrow, we’ll...hit warp speed, or whatever.”

Gene blanched, but Tina only nodded and smiled. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

Chapter Text

“We can’t tell you how pleased we are that you came in today, Missus Fischoeder!”

Louise flinched, forcibly removed from her staring contest with the man sitting across from her’s Star Wars necktie. The silky slip of fabric had little tie-fighters and Death Stars all over a black background and clashed horrendously with his teal shirt, or so Gene had stage whispered when he walked into the room. The three Belcher siblings were squished into two uncomfortable office chairs, Tina perched precariously on her brother’s knee, at the desk of Mel Vargas. Mel Vargas was the Principal Financial Advisor at May the Funds Be with You: Financial Planners and was responsible for the overall vision, strategy, and operations of the firm, or so Tina had said at her normal speaking volume after Mel had sat down.

“Your sister is correct,” the man agreed, smile too tight and bright to be sincere. He was well dressed and nicely groomed, but he looked…stressed. When they’d walked in Louise had noticed the office space was oddly quiet for the middle of a work day; not even a phone ringing. No doubt they desperately needed her business. “I take the lead in client interactions and financial planning here and can help you find whatever it is you’re looking for!”

“I need someone to handle my fortune,” the young woman announced without preamble. One of her siblings cleared their throat loudly and she clarified, “My…husband left me a lot of money and…I’m not really sure how to manage it.”

“Oh, yes, we were all very sorry to hear about the passing of Mister Fischoeder.”

Louise nodded, mouth twitching in the corners. She’d resigned herself to getting well wishes and condolences about her dead husband for the foreseeable future and was determined to appreciate them while they lasted. It was a stark contrast to how people had reacted after she’d gotten married; back then people had talked . Gold Digging Whore was the nicest name she’d been given, if the least creative, and she could only imagine what they’d call her now. Gold Digging Murderer probably.

“The Black Widow,” Gene had suggested on their drive over to the firm, gargantuan sunglasses back on his face as he’d steered the golf cart one handed. Tina had pitched The Praying Mantis and Louise had to explain she was saving that name for when Millie Frock inevitably snapped and killed her Single White Female style.

The night before, Linda Belcher had begged and pleaded with each of her children and they’d all eventually agreed to spend the night under the guise of needing to be there for Louise. They’d done everything the twenty-two year old had fantasized about doing. She went upstairs to her childhood home and ate her mom’s cooking while her brother and sister went on about their days. She shared conspiratorial looks across the dinner table with her dad and playfully grilled Zeke about his intentions with Tina. She slipped back into her old life like no time had passed at all and fell asleep on her parent’s bedroom floor with her brother’s feet in her face just like the good old days. Waking up that morning, she’d nearly convinced herself the last four years had all been some crazy fever dream. Sitting across from Mister Vargas was a harsh slap back to reality.

“With the size of your late husband's estate, and the number of properties now under your control, it sounds like you’ll need a financial advisor who specializes in estate planning and investment management,” Mel said, sounding very sure and official as he tapped away at his ancient looking desktop. The thing had definitely come out of a cow print cardboard box.

“If you say so. Where can I find-?”

“However,” the man went on, cutting across her gently, “You could also benefit from an estate planning attorney, a real estate manager, and a tax advisor. A team like that could handle everything for you while making sure your interests are prioritized.”

“Right,” the young widow mused cooly, leaning back in her chair with crossed arms. Louise Belcher maybe didn’t know much about managing money, but Louise Fischoeder knew plenty about people trying to swindle her. She’d been a swindler herself once upon a time and Calvin had always been quick to point out when someone was trying to get one over on them. She wouldn’t lose her husband’s fortune the first week out. “And how much would it cost to prioritize my interests?”

“Can’t put a price on peace of mind,” Mel deferred, “But I can definitely type up some up estimates for you!”

“I think…” Tina spoke up, wobbling where she sat, phone clutched in her sweaty fist. Gene steadied her. “One thing at a time? If my sister had a financial advisor they could tell if she needed all that other stuff, right?”

Mel’s smile got tighter, but he agreed, “That is true, yes!”

“Great,” Louise said with a loud clap, “So gimme your best, cheapest advisor.”

“Best and cheapest kinda sound like oxymorons.”

“Yes, well-”

“You’re the best, cheapest stripper at Pickles.”

“Excuse me-”

“How dare you?! I’m not cheap , I’m priceless !”

“ Ladies !” Mel raised his voice to be heard over the impending sibling squabble, “-And gentleman, please. I completely understand the desire to be frugal and scrupulous during this time and have the perfect advisor on staff for you.” 

The two Belchers and one Fischoeder all perked up and quickly forgot about the back and forth to congratulate each other on a job well done. Tina had thought up the idea to come here, Gene had driven, and Louise hadn’t shouted at one man in a suit; it was a huge win for them all. Shoulder pats and handshakes out of the way, the burger flippers all stood and followed Mister Vargas back out into the firm’s main office area. Everything around them was Star Wars themed. There were lamps that looked like lightsabers, Stormtrooper helmet mugs, and even a trash can dressed up as Yoda. All in all, Louise thought it looked like a Lucas lawsuit waiting to happen and she hoped she wouldn’t have to contend at some point with The Mouse.

“We have a small conference room I’ll get you set up in before I go grab your advisor,” Mel explained, leading them through a short maze of messy desks and slack jawed employees. “Nothing’s set in stone of course! This’ll just be a quick meet-and-greet to see if it's a good fit. We want you with someone you can see yourself with for years to come.”

“Her husband just died,” Gene scoffed, scandalized, “She's not ready to commit to someone new yet!”

“Oh my God,” Tina muttered in an excellent imitation of Bob Belcher right as they were shown into an empty room with a long table and chairs at its center. Mel told them to make themselves comfortable, pointed out a water cooler painted to look like R2-D2 in the corner, and then left to find his best and cheapest advisor.

“I think I’m gonna like it here,” Gene mused, flouncing over to the cooler and hitting the dispenser button. A sound like the droid chirping excitedly went off and the young man squealed before proceeding to hit the button again and again and again. Chirp, beep, whistle, waaahhhh!!!

“So what do you think?” Tina asked, focusing on her little sister, eyes wide behind her frames. Louise shrugged, shoulders feeling weighed down and sweaty under Calvin’s Gucci coat once more. 

That morning, after helping their parents and Zeke open but before heading over to May the Funds Be with You, the Belcher siblings had driven up to the Fischoeder mansion. Louise was worried about Felix doing something crazy like trying to establish squater’s rights and so had insisted they go back. It was her house now, damnit, and she wouldn’t let her brother-in-law scare her out of it. The driveway, porch, and parlor had all been empty of any staff or guests. Still, Tina, Gene, and Louise had split up, each armed with a fire poker, and searched the large estate from top to bottom. The last stop had been to Felix’s tree house, but that had also been empty.

“Maybe they gave up and skipped town?” Gene had proposed optimistically, sprawled out on the leather couch Louise had been on during the reading of the will. “They could always strike it big on King's Head Island!”

Louise seriously doubted Felix would get sidetracked that easily and had stated as much while shrugging back into her husband’s coat with its kaleidoscope colors. Felix Fischoeder was as conniving as he was campy and Grover and Fanny were no better. With the three of them working together there was no telling what would be coming and Louise had been more determined than ever to find someone to help her protect Calvin’s money. Protecting his money meant protecting the town and that was a goal the young widow was not willing to give up on.

“I think whoever he brings back had better have some goddamn sense cause I’m not about to sign the town over to an idiot,” Louise mused, blinking back to the present just as Gene brought them each some water from the cooler. Half the jug was empty, but they were drinking out of little paper cups that looked like Chewbacca, Boba Fett, and C3P0. Cute.

“Well, you’re not about to sign the town over at all,” her big sister reasoned, raising her thick brows meaningfully. “You’re still gonna be in charge, Louise, this person is just here to help you do…whatever it is you wanna do.”

What did she want to do?

Louise slouched back in her seat, hands buried deep in her coat pockets to fiddle with her ‘ Eat the Ric h’ keychain. She had no clue what she wanted to do, at least not really. For the longest time her plan had been to take whatever Calvin left her and give it back to the people who had helped raise her and kept their crazy town afloat. She’d wanted Ocean Avenue, but she’d figured those mom-and-pop shops had been more than ready to run themselves as soon as she handed them their leases. She’d wanted to repair Wander Wharf to its former glory and maybe retire being known as the crazy old lady who’d brought back the animatronic shark. Now what?

“Knock-knock!” 

On principle, Louise hated people that said knock-knock before they entered a room, but still turned with her siblings to see Mel Vargas returning to the room with a young man dragging close behind. He was wearing a plain navy necktie, but the clip was a miniature of the Millenium Falcon. The first thought the widow had about the newcomer was that he vaguely resembled one of the guys from some band Tina had started following after Boyz 4 Now split up; blue eyes, blonde hair, a strong nose, and a slim but muscular build hidden under his clothes. They had some song about curves and hips and lips and twists, but she couldn’t really remember it. The next thought was that he looked irritatingly familiar. Where had she seen this incredibly slappable face before?

“Louise Fischoeder may I introduce our best and cheapest financial advisor who specializes in estate planning and investment management,” Mel said sunnily, his hand gripping the blonde’s arm as he yanked him into the room. “Logan Bush.”

“Oh my God.”

“Get out !”

“LOGAN?!”

It was impossible to tell which Belcher had said what because they’d all spoken, or shouted, at once and it was nothing but a cacophony of noise as they each stood from their respective chairs. Gene was batting his lashes and harping loudly about always knowing the young man would end up being a looker while Tina was combing her hands through her pin straight hair self-consciously and mumbling about it being a long-time-no-see. Meanwhile Louise could practically feel herself foaming at the mouth as years of forgotten fury bubbled up to the surface in a surge so hot it nearly took her breath away.

Logan Fucking Berry Bush.

The obnoxious teenage boy who had made every attempt to terrorize her as a child hadn’t merely fallen off the face of the earth like she’d always assumed. No, apparently he’d gone off to some fancy school and learned how to be an actual contributing member of society and now was expected to handle Louise’s fortune. Mel Vargas was going on and on, waxing poetic about how Logan was their newest and brightest advisor and came with a very small retainer because he hadn’t handled many big accounts yet, but don’t worry he was more than capable. Logan just stood there, big blue eyes trained on his former nemesis a bit stupidly.

No fucking way.

“No fucking way,” the young woman seethed, crossing her arms so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and strangle the man who had once made her believe her precious bunny ears had been burnt up inside an incinerator. “No fucking way is he handling my money!”

Logan finally seemed to snap out of whatever stunned state he’d fallen into and smiled at them, bright and tight just like his boss. It made Louise’s skin crawl to see him look so falsely pleasant; it reminded her too much of childhood. “Missus Fischoeder, I’m sure we can come to an understanding-”

“Don’t call me that!” she snapped, angry beyond reason to hear her married name out of the man’s mouth. What had she expected? Four Ears? “Don’t pretend to be all nice and professional, you insect!”

“Missus Fischoeder,” Mel Vargas interrupted, face pale and sweaty as he no-doubt imagined their first big client storming out in a huff. “I see you and Mister Bush have a bit of a history, but he really is the best in your budget-”

“No more budget,” Louise spat, “I don’t care what it costs, just get me someone who isn’t him.”

“Louise!” Tina warned, grabbing her sister’s elbow and squeezing it tightly. Louise shook her off. “You can’t just throw the money around, you have to be smart!”

“I won’t work with him,” the youngest Belcher declared, turning her nose up and sitting back down with finality, arms still crossed. Gene, the beautiful bastard, also sat in solidarity. However, then he started to pat the seat beside him invitingly, waggling his eyebrows at Logan. Traitor!

“You said you’d give us cost estimates?” Tina pressed, the only one trying to salvage the visit as she turned on Mister Vargas expectantly. The man in the Star Wars necktie blinked confusedly before seeming to remember he had a stack of papers fisted in the hand he wasn’t holding onto Logan with. He passed them over to Tina and briefly explained which estimate would be for Mister Bush and which ones would be for the next most qualified person available. The twenty-six year old scanned the papers critically, her brow pinched in consternation, and then started up a steady, daunting groan.

“Lemme see, lemme see!” Gene insisted, snatching the documents away from his big sister. He didn’t look as long or as closely at the numbers as Tina had, the important ones were all highlighted, but he let out a low whistle all the same. “Damn! I should’ve gone into accounting!”

“Give me that!” Louise hissed, grabbing at the papers so roughly she nearly ripped them. She was livid, fuming, furious that her brother and sister would even consider working with Logan, but she’d have to look at the prices herself. It was her money, but she knew Tina was right; she couldn’t just throw it around. She had to be smart. “What even is all this?”

“We can definitely get into the finer details at a later date,” Mel tried to soothe, skirting around the assemblage so he could follow along over Louise’s shoulder as she flipped through all the pages of bureaucratic bullshit. “But this is just a quick breakdown of the fees you would accrue taking on Mister Bush as a financial advisor versus a more…senior associate.”

The young woman frowned, feeling very put upon as she tried to read through each sneaky little fee and charge. Apparently she would be expected to pay an hourly rate for the days she came in and spoke with her advisor or they came out to the house. Logan’s rate was an upsetting $150 an hour, but the next cheapest rate was $310. There would also be a flat fee for special services; developing an estate plan, managing investments, etc. Logan’s fee was $1,350 and the next just above him was a whopping $4,250. There was also info about percentages and retainers and combination fees and just a lot of stuff Louise wasn’t really sure what to make of. A sudden, sharp wish for Calvin to be there and explain it all stabbed through her and she breathed around it, eyes annoyingly hot as she turned back to Mel Vargas.

“If he’s never done this before,” she reasoned, tone stiff and icy, “How do you know he’s any good.”

“I’ve managed accounts before, Missus Fischoeder,” Logan said, stepping further into the room now, though not within grabbing distance of his new client. Smart. “Yours is just the largest.”

“Mister Logan has a short but excellent track record at our firm already,” Mel insisted, looking between the young people worriedly, “He can help you assess your financial situation, create a comprehensive plan, and provide guidance on managing your husband’s investments and properties.”

Louise scrunched her nose, shoulders tight with suspicion. Logan was still standing, nearly a head taller than everyone else in the room, and Louise glared up, up, up at him. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, she asked, “And what happens if he fucks me over and steals all my money?”

“We would never -!”

“You can sue them for damages and seek arbitration,” Tina answered, phone screen open to a browser window where she’d just Googled her sister’s exact question. “You can also file a claim against their insurance to recover losses.”

“Perfect,” Louise huffed, tossing the papers aside irately. The sheets fluttered down around their chair legs. She broke eye contact with Logan to scowl around the room. “As long as someone’s watching his ass while he watches my ass.”

“I’d gladly watch his ass,” Gene simpered, beaming up at the man who had once threatened to take him to Pitts-burg. Louise punched her brother’s arm. The blonde financial advisor only smiled benignly, his hands hidden away in his pockets and his form totally at ease. He was playing cool, the youngest Belcher was sure, he wouldn’t break character in front of the others.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” Vargas intoned, looking stretched thin with this interaction, “Why don’t we give client and advisor a moment to get acquainted and talk about some long-term goals. Off the clock of course!”

“Yeah, I better not be paying for this,” the twenty-something grumbled, watching warily as Logan pulled a seat out for himself. Mel waved Tina and Gene towards the door, luring them with promises of complimentary snacks and water in the waiting area. Gene was gone as soon as he heard the words ‘snacks’, but Tina held back a moment. She shared a look with her sister that, although her facial expression did not change, sent her message loud and clear.

Don’t fuck this up.

With a hissing sigh, Louise nodded her understanding and waved her sister away out into the hall. Mel gave her one last painfully tight smile and then gently closed the door behind them leaving her all alone with Logan Fucking Berry Bush. The blonde had twisted to watch the others’ exit, but once the door was closed he turned back around, blue eyes finding his old enemy straight away. Louise swore she could see the corporate skinsuit sliding right off him as he eased back in his chair and fixed her with a cocky smile. 

“Well, well, well,” he mused, eyeing her up and down like a cat would a mouse. She felt a hot flush of anger splash over her cheeks. “How’s it hangin’, Four Ears?”

Louise slammed her hand on the table, triumphant, incensed, and exhilarated all at once. She aimed a finger in his face. She wondered how she’d ever forgotten that stupid fucking face. 

“I KNEW IT!”

Chapter Text

“You didn’t have to drop me off,” Louise muttered, eyes thrown petulantly across the room in the opposite direction of her sister. Tina was double checking her younger sister’s messenger bag like an anxious mother on the first day of school and only hummed an acknowledgement. “I’m not a kid.”

“We need this to go well, Louise,” the older Belcher said for the hundredth time, still elbow deep in the bag, fishing around for God only knew what. “You really can’t afford anyone else and you’ve got to start getting your finances in order as soon as possible!”

“Oh my God, I know, T !” the younger woman seethed, gripping the air in front of her and pretending it was her sibling’s neck. She’d been bubbling over all morning and being back at May the Funds Be With You: Financial Planners had not helped any. 

Louise Fischoeder, nee Belcher, knew she needed a cheap advisor to get her late husband’s estate in order and could even admit that the campy atmosphere of the Star Wars themed office was almost charming to her, but having to admit that Logan Fucking Berry Bush was the best she could afford was a shame so rank the twenty-two year old could hardly see straight through her fury. She’d complained all the way home the day before, long into a night of drinking back at the mansion, and woken up with an awful hangover and the stupid blonde’s name on her lips.

“Logan fucking Berry Bush,” she growled again, gripping at her face like she could rip her own skin off starting from her eye sockets and pealing down through her cheeks. “I can’t believe it.”

“Just be nice,” Tina huffed, finally finding whatever she’d been looking for. She yanked out a Ziplock bag of what looked like home baked cookies and held them out in front of her. “Give him these.”

“Fuck no!”

“Good morning, ladies!” 

The two sisters snapped eyes around to see Mel Vargas approaching, his skinwalker smile from the day before still in place. The Principal Financial Advisor of May the Funds Be With You had left off his suit jacket that morning making him appear more at ease, but that meant his stormtrooper print suspenders were on full display. They matched his stormtrooper print bowtie and Louise choked back a gag. 

“I’m so glad you were able to come back today,” the man announced, sounding sincerely relieved. He was rubbing his hands together like a nervous fly as his gaze flitted between the two of them. “Were you able to find the documents we talked about?”

“Yes!” Tina jumped in, tossing the bag of cookies into her sister’s lap as she scrambled for her phone. Louise barely contained a shudder of disgust as she pushed the baggie to the floor, content to crush the pastries beneath her boot as Tina pulled up a list she’d texted out the day before. “We have…Calvin’s will, marriage certificate, death certificate, tax returns for the last three years…um… deeds…and his business records.”

“The ones we could find,” Louise grumbled, finally getting to her feet when the cookies were nothing but a fine powder wrapped in plastic. She kicked the bag under her chair hoisting the impossibly heavy messenger her siblings had helped her pack onto her shoulder. “It took all night to find this stuff so he better know what to do with it all.”

“Mister Bush will be more than capable of getting everything sorted for you,” Mel appeased, hands still rubbing over and over each other. Louise groaned in despair but the man only motioned across the office space. “He’s ready for you in the same conference room as yesterday.”

“Kill me,” the young woman stage whispered, turning to her sister with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Tina only harrumphed, her placid expression still managing to look put out as she scooped up the bag of destroyed baked goods from where her youngest sibling had attempted to ditch them.

“It’ll be fine,” she reassured, brushing crumbs from her fingers and looking like she didn't believe a single word coming out of her thin lying mouth. “Just be nice-”

“I know!” Louise hissed, already stomping off towards the conference room and wishing she’d brought Gene along instead. But the Pickles dancer would likely just simp and pull focus and make the whole day more bearable and god forbid the fresh widow have a moment of levity in her life ever again.

She left Tina and Mel in the front waiting area of the firm and trekked the same path as the day before. Passed Death Star stress balls, Leia Organa inspirational posters, and a thermostat where the rising mercury in the thermometer imitated an igniting lightsaber, she found the door to the conference room and all but kicked it open because she wasn’t nervous or worried (or whatever crazy thing Tina assumed) about working with her childhood nemesis. She was filled with a righteous anger that the former schoolyard bully would get the full brunt of if he wanted to work on her account. The door banged into the wall behind it and Louise felt her temper flaring even hotter when the young man sitting behind it didn’t even flinch. 

“Good morning, Missus Fischoeder,” Logan greeted, glancing up from his laptop with a smarmy little smirk. Louise sneered at him.

“Satan,” she acknowledged, throwing herself into a chair as far away from him as she could manage; clear across the room. “Eat any souls today?”

“Intermittent fasting,” the blonde responded benignly, shrugging his wide shoulders as if bashful. He was wearing Galactic Empire cufflinks. “No souls until ten.”

“Trying to drop that baby weight, huh?” she goaded, tilting her head at him with fake consideration. Frustratingly enough her dig was a clear lie since adult Logan for some reason was built like an Olympic swimmer; long and lean. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, not everyone’s body just snaps back.”

“Your mom’s certainly did.”

“I hate you!” Louise bit out, whole body shaking with unchecked ferocity. Blue eyes flashed up the table at her before turning back to his computer screen.

“I know, Four Ears,” he assuaged, tone flippant. He clicked and clacked on his keyboard for a moment and then tilted a look at her. “I’m just kidding. Did you bring all the paperwork?”

Louise sent the bag sliding down the table with a shove and watched with malicious amusement as it tumbled over the edge, bursting papers across the floor before Logan could catch it. She stayed sitting primly as the man had to lean over to retrieve everything that had fallen, his sharp jawline clearly clenched in annoyance even as he refused to flare his temper at her. A weighty silence sat between them and it had been there since the day before when Logan had turned around and used his childhood nickname for her like it didn’t mean anything, like it wasn’t a dead body they both had to step over to even be standing there looking at each other.

Louise had been angry, livid, furious to have Logan Berry Bush sitting across from her after Mel and her siblings had walked out. She’d launched into an immediate tirade announcing to the empty room what a worthless, conniving, evil sack of shit the young man had always been and would always be as long as he lived. She recounted the absolute myriad of damn near war crimes he had committed against her in their younger years, conveniently sidestepping her own engagement in antics the Geneva Conventions would have balked at and had ended the whole interaction by saying she would rather die than have to spend even one paid minute in his presence.

Logan had taken the barrage, stance unbothered as she’d raged, and when she’d finally finished, panting and sweaty beneath Calvin’s coat, he’d just said, “It’s good to see you too, Louise.”

And so Louise had agreed to another meeting.

If she had to go through the trouble of actually learning to manage Calvin’s huge estate and taking care of an entire town while grieving she may as well have a financial advisor that could stand to have the shit verbally kicked out of him. 

Just to take the edge off.

“There we go,” the young man huffed, pulling Louise from her angry musings. He’d managed to gather all the papers that had spilled into his arms and dropped them back onto the table. Next, he upended the bag to free the remaining documents and watched as they all spilled out in a messy pile. There were printed files, folders, crumpled receipts, sticky-notes, and honest to God napkins with business agreements scribbled around the stains and Logan looked at all of it with one eyebrow quirked. Louise crossed her arms.

“Think you can handle it, Bush?” she challenged, fingers fisted to keep them from shaking under her armpit. She wasn’t nervous or worried (or whatever crazy thing Tina assumed), but she recalled her sister’s constant warnings; she literally could not afford to fuck this up. 

“Piece of cake,” Logan assured with a sigh, already moving to spread everything out so he could see exactly what he was dealing with. Louise fidgeted in her seat, put off by his cool aloofness in the face of her raging hate-boner for him. “I’ll get this organized and we can start outlining what you want for your plan.”

“I thought the whole point of this was for you to handle all that crap,” the widow harangued, rocking back into her chair and yanking her eyes away from him. She glared down at the table top instead and refused to look up when she shrugged and admitted, “I have no idea how to manage this stuff.”

“I’ll manage it,” Logan agreed, glancing up from where he’d been trying to decipher the chicken scratch on the back of an old Jimmy Pesto’s menu. “But I have to know what you want to do before I can help you.”

There was that question again. 

What did she want to do?

“I want…” she began, stopping when she caught herself about to regurgitate the same vague bullshit she'd been feeding herself for four years. She wanted to take care of the Wharf. She wanted to give Ocean Avenue back to the people. She wanted to take care of everyone and everything even though she had absolutely no idea how to do that. “I just… don’t want to fuck this up. I don’t want to ruin everything Calvin built.”

Logan nodded his understanding, a low hum sounding from the back of his throat as he continued to sift through the mess of papers. Louise wasn’t sure he really understood the gravity of everything she’d literally dumped on him, but she hoped he would at least take his job seriously and help her find some semblance of order in all this. He noted, “I can help with that.” 

It would have to be good enough. 

Things were a touch calmer after that. Logan looked over each and every document critically even if it was just a risque Polaroid with a hastily scrawled ‘IOU’ on it, and occasionally asked Louise to lend some clarity to what he was looking at. She wasn’t too helpful, refusing to get any closer to him, and sincerely unfamiliar with a lot of the things he was inquiring about. He asked after her husband’s investments and she pointed him to a tattered legal pad with a list of ‘Calvin’s Cash Cows’ on it. He suggested she needed some sort of log of her own personal expenses and she read him a month’s worth of her Venmo transactions. He showed her an index card with several suspicious names crossed out one by one and she pleaded the fifth. The young widow was embarrassed to admit she actually knew very little about her late husband’s financial situation outside of him being rich enough to own a diamond encrusted toothpick and the world’s most expensive shoe horn. 

“Why didn’t he ever have a legal advisor look at all this?” Logan wondered aloud at one point, cufflinks having been placed into a pocket so he could roll his sleeves up. “They could have kept it in better order for him- for you.”

“Calvin always said he wanted his portfolio to be a living, breathing beast,” Louise recited, head thrown over the back of her chair as she counted the ceiling panels. “He wanted schmucks like you to look at it and tremble.”

“This isn’t a portfolio,” the man on the opposite end of the table mumbled, “It’s evidence in a RICO case.”

Seeing the suited near-thirty year old try to sort her life out made Louise feel a bit like a mess, but also a bit like a pirate queen. Regardless, her old nemesis took her lack of knowledge and outlandish accounts in stride and formed all the papers into neat-ish piles with color coordinated sticky-notes labeling each section. A large pile ended up in the trash after Logan promised Louise she didn’t need to hold on to design drawings of old Wonder Wharf rides and would actually be smart to dispose of so much blatant evidence of criminal negligence. An hour and then two passed without the two of them drawing dueling pistols and by the time Mel Vargas came to check on them, Louise was actually considering maybe letting the blonde live to see another day.

“Knock-knock,” the tightly wound man tittered, peaking through the door slowly so that he missed the way Louise rolled her eyes hard enough to sprain something. “How’s it going in here?”

“Business records,” Logan responded, thumping a hand down on one pile of papers before moving on to pat and label the others in turn, “Tax returns, property deeds, bank accounts and investments.” He steepled his fingers together, looking proud if harried when his boss nodded appreciatively. 

“Excellent work!” Mel beamed, shooting hopeful glances in Louise’s direction as she stood from her chair, stretching with an obnoxiously loud yawn to show she would not be so easily impressed by her old enemy's organizational skills. Everything had actually already been sorted in the bag before she’d knocked it over; thank you, Tina. “And how are you feeling about this possible partnership, Missus Fischoeder?”

“Yeah, sure,” the twenty-something grouched, letting her arms flop back to her sides as she prowled across the room, getting within spitting distance of Logan for the first time since she’d arrived. “He’s not a complete waste of space I guess.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Mel enthused, not even blinking at the slight to his employee. He fixed his too bright smile on Louise, motioning towards the door he’d just walked through. “If you're satisfied with this arrangement we can go sign your official engagement with Mister Bush and go over his retainer and fees one more time.”

Louise’s skin positively crawled at her situation with Logan being called an ‘engagement’ , but nodded her agreement all the same. The last two hours had been relatively painless and Logan had seemed more than half competent with everything he’d seen and asked and suggested and maybe he wasn’t the completely worthless, conniving, evil sack of shit she’d called him the day before. With an irritated scowl she made to follow Vargas from the room only to pull up short when she caught Logan standing out of the corner of her eye. He’d stayed seated the entire time she’d been there, not even leaving his chair when he’d had to pick up all the papers she’d shoved on the floor. She was annoyed to be reminded the bastard had dared to get even taller in the years she hadn’t seen him. She stared up, up, up as he approached her and glowered into his face when he was right in front of her.

“I don’t keep these,” he explained, passing her a thin stack of papers that she leafed through with a glance. It was her marriage certificate, Calvin’s will, and his death certificate. Louise's chest felt tight. “Put them somewhere safe, but bring me notarized copies next time we meet.”

“Because I have a personal notary locked up in the wine cellar,” the young woman sulked, rolling her eyes again as she folded the precious papers to shove into her pocket. “Of course.”

“Or, crazy idea,” Logan pandered, unrolling his sleeves and moving to reattach his cufflinks. His hair was pushed back from his forehead messily from how many times he had wiped it off his brow in consternation. “You could walk into literally any bank in town and get it done.” 

“Crazier idea,” she countered, the calm that had settled in the room evaporating like racoon piss off the sidewalk, “I shove them up your ass and see if the stick up there can get it done.”

“Always a pleasure to work with you, Missus Fischoeder.”

“Whatever, Logan.” 

The blonde watched her, brow up again as he appeared to really take her in for the first time. Louise wondered what he was seeing before reminding herself she didn’t give a flying fuck. After a tense pause he asked, “What’s with the coat?” 

The hot, molten anger she’d felt the day before came roaring back and Louise scowled, burying her hands deep, deep into Calvin’s Gucci coat pockets. It was heavy and hot and maybe smelly from her wearing it everyday for the last…while, but still he had no right to ask her about that sort of thing. He was her paper-pusher, her flunky, the literal paid help and he could shove his questions where the sun didn’t shine and the creak wouldn’t rise. 

“Mind your own fucking business, Bush,” she snarled before storming out of the room, stomping back out into the main office area of May the Funds Be With You.  

It was the same short maze of messy desks and the same slack jawed employees, but everything was too much all of a sudden. The fluorescent lights were too bright and the groan of the printer was too loud and her shoulders felt too weighed down by the coat she couldn’t- wouldn’t take off and she pressed her eyes with her fingers. Harder, harder, harder until spots danced behind her lids, and then dragged her hands over her cheeks with a punishing roughness. Her throat felt sore and tight and she realized it was because she was letting out a low, steady groan that she quickly cut off.

She was turning into fucking Tina.

Wonderful.

“Missus Fischoeder?” Mel’s voice pulled her back from the brink of perhaps literal insanity and she waved him away, trudging into his office with sweat cooling on her neck and a headache blooming behind her eyes. The man motioned her to sit and then took the seat across from her at his desk, a short stack of papers obsessively organized and laid out in front of her. “Let’s make everything official!”

Mel walked her through Logan’s engagement letter; Logan’s responsibilities (managing investments and helping with estate planning), what he couldn’t do (sell off assets without approval or draft legal documents), and under what circumstance Louise could realistically be expected to fire him if she wanted. The young widow paid extra attention to that last bit, but everything else still managed to skim just over her head. The hourly rates and retainers and fees were just a jumble of big numbers that she could hardly make sense or and when Mel asked her what sort of schedule she’d want to keep with Logan she just stared at him blankly. 

“I have to meet with him again?” she clarified, her headache charging towards migraine territory as she squinted at the man across from her in his stupid Star Wars suspenders. 

“Yes, of course.” Mel kept his eyes suspiciously occupied on his paperwork rather than looking at his new client, but pressed on nonetheless. “An established financial advisor would sit down with you once a year at least, but with how large and new and…unique your estate is you should probably meet with Mister Bush at least twice a week to start.”

“Twice a week-?!”

“To start ,” the older man clarified, glancing up but then away again when he saw Louise quivering with poorly contained viciousness in her seat. “Once you’re both more settled and comfortable, those meetings can be spread a bit further out; biweekly and then monthly until you hit that sweet, sweet once a year spot.”

The young woman thought she would shake apart right then and there; just fall to pieces while leaning against a lumbar pillow shaped like Grogu from The Mandalorian. She couldn’t believe the audacity of this walking douchebag to pair her up with her worst enemy (Millie notwithstanding) and then suggest she meet up with him twice a week for Marshmallow only knew how long. She sucked in ragged breaths of air, fighting the urge to claw at her face again, and snatched the pen Mel handed out to her. When she clicked the top and the sound of a light saber being ignited filled the room she nearly screamed, scribbling her name quickly in every spot the man pointed to.

When she was finished and just one bad pun away from an aneurysm, Mel took the pen and papers back and announced, “Congratulations, Missus Fischoeder, you are now financially one with the Force!”

The groan that fell from her mouth couldn’t have been stopped by all the blast doors on the Death Star.

Chapter Text

From : Logan Bush [email protected]
To : [email protected]
Date : Wednesday, 8:02 AM
Subject: Follow-Up & Initial Schedule

Mrs. Fischoeder,

Now that the engagement form is signed, we should move quickly to get ahead of several deadlines tied to Wonder Wharf’s contracts, property taxes, and pending lease renewals.

I’ve attached a proposed schedule for our first month, and I strongly recommend twice-weekly meetings to keep things manageable.

Please review and confirm.

Regards,
Logan Bush, CFP®
Senior Financial Advisor, May the Funds Be With You
“Your focus determines your reality — and also your credit score.”

Attachment: InitialWorkingSchedule.pdf

From : [email protected]
To : Logan Bush [email protected]
Date : Wednesday, 10:41 AM
Subject: Re: Follow-Up & Initial Schedule

twice a week??? BFFR 😮😮😮 this isn’t a hedge fund, once a week is plenty. sunday im busy anyway.
gene is doing a one-man show called “water you doing” where he reenacts the plot of titanic from a kiddie pool.
non negotiable

(sent from my iPhone)

From : Logan Bush [email protected]
To : [email protected]
Date : Wednesday, 12:15 PM
Subject: Re: Follow-Up & Initial Schedule

Louise,

I understand Sundays are off-limits. I’m flexible on the days, but twice weekly is essential. There’s a backlog of vendor payments, lease renewals, and flagged debts tied to Wonder Wharf that can’t wait. I’m not running a hedge fund, but you are running an estate worth several million, whether you like it or not. What about Thursday afternoons and Mondays?

P.S. vendors and tenants are one thing, but longer term, have you thought about what you want Wonder Wharf to become? Calvin had his way of running it, but what’s your vision?

Regards,
Logan Bush, CFP®
Senior Financial Advisor, May the Funds Be With You
“Your focus determines your reality — and also your credit score.”

From : [email protected]
To : Logan Bush [email protected]
Date : Wednesday, 3:03 PM
Subject: Re: Follow-Up & Initial Schedule

fine. thurs @ 4. mon @ 1. but u better not send me those dumb charts again
PS>  dont worry about my ‘vision’ Scott bakula, this isn't a quest 🙄🙄🙄

(sent from my iPhone)

From : Logan Bush [email protected]
To : [email protected]
Date : Thursday, 6:17 PM
Subject: Notes from Today’s Session

Louise,

After reviewing the documents you brought, I’ve flagged the following for urgent attention:

• Dizzy Dog vendor is 4 months behind on payments and claiming immunity.
• Ocean Avenue: Bob’s Burgers lease is missing key pages.
• Wonder Wharf maintenance costs are higher than projected – likely due to backlogged repairs.

Please locate any updated lease terms for Bob’s and the Family Funtime arcade. I’ll handle reaching out to Mickey and Sally, but let’s meet Monday to go over potential legal options for delinquent vendors. Also in order to balance the estate’s outflows, I need to understand what you personally need month-to-month. Have you been able to track any of your own expenses since taking over? If not, we can create a baseline together.

P.S. Scott Bakula wasn’t in Vision Quest, you’re thinking of Matthew Modine.

Regards,
Logan Bush, CFP®
Senior Financial Advisor, May the Funds Be With You
“Your focus determines your reality — and also your credit score.”

From : [email protected]
To : Logan Bush [email protected]
Date : Friday, 11:33 AM
Subject: Re: Notes from Today’s Session

riley can bite me 😡 he owes ME 4 months of gabbling payouts. mickey and sally are fine. leave them alone.
i’ll check with my dad abt the lease and do you not have my venmo account??? 

-L

(sent from my iPhone)

From : Logan Bush [email protected]
To : [email protected]
Date : Saturday, 8:57 AM
Subject: Vendor Update + Lease Status

Louise,

I’ve spoken with Mickey – he confirmed he’s paying cash and keeping his end of the deal. I’ll formalize his contract next week. Sally wants to discuss rent. We’ll hold on that for now, as you requested.

Please prioritize finding those missing lease pages. If we don’t have them, we can’t enforce rent collection properly.

While reviewing the contracts, I noticed a number of them were left unsigned or open-ended. Did Calvin leave things unfinished, or is that just how things ran at the Wharf? I imagine that created a lot of pressure for you, even before this.

Let me know if Monday’s 1 PM meeting still works.

Regards,
Logan Bush, CFP®
Senior Financial Advisor, May the Funds Be With You
“Your focus determines your reality — and also your credit score.”

From : [email protected]
To : Logan Bush [email protected]
Date : Saturday, 1:12 PM
Subject: Re: Vendor Update + Lease Status

You ask a looooot of questions bush 🤨 Found dads lease papers. monday’s fine.
but i want real plans next time, not just “let’s check this” and “we should maybe do that.”
total time suck.

-L

(sent from my iPhone)

From : Logan Bush [email protected]
To : [email protected]
Date : Sunday, 9:05 AM
Subject: Monday Agenda

Louise,

Noted. Monday we sit down with a fixed agenda:

• Confirm lease terms for Ocean Avenue properties.
• Finalize contracts for Mickey and Sally.
• Draft action plan for delinquent vendors.
• Set short-term financial goals for the next quarter.

Let’s meet at Fischoeder Mansion this time. We’ll put this in order.
Here’s my personal number so we can text and confirm time and arrival tomorrow:
(609) 427-1947

Regards,
Logan Bush, CFP®
Senior Financial Advisor, May the Funds Be With You
“Your focus determines your reality — and also your credit score.”

From : [email protected]
To : Logan Bush [email protected]
Date : Sunday, 10:12 AM
Subject: Re: Monday Agenda

If you think im texting you my # AND letting you into my house ur dreeeaming 😡😡😡

-L

(sent from my iPhone)

(609) 541-1869 → (609) 427-1947

Hello Logan, it’s Tina, from town. This is Louise’s phone number.
I’m texting you from it to confirm the meeting for tomorrow, 1PM.
She’ll be there. Her address is
110 Seaside Heights Way,
Seymour’s Bay, NJ 08751

Let me know if you need anything else.
-Tina Ruth Belcher 

[5:38 PM]

(609) 427-1947 → Louise Fischoeder

Thanks, Tina. I’ll have the vendor contracts and expense summary.
Please remind her we need to finalize Dizzy Dog’s eviction or renegotiation.

[5:41 PM]

Louise Fischoeder  → Logan Bush (from town)

I will. She’s pretending not to care, but she does. See you tomorrow 💛
-Tina Ruth Belcher

[5:43 PM]

Louise Fischoeder  → Logan Bush (from town)

Sorry if the heart emoji was misleading, I’m in a happy committed relationship.
Plus it would never work between us, my sister hates your guts.
Whatever thoughts or feelings you may have had about me, put them aside and help her.
You’ll move on someday.
-Tina Ruth Belcher

[5:45 PM]

Logan Bush (from town) → Louise Fischoeder

I read you loud and clear, T. I’ll recover ❤️‍🩹

[5:51 PM]

Louise Fischoeder  →  Logan Bush (from town)

TINA HAD NO RIGHT TO TEXT!! DONT  U DARE SHOW UP AT MY HOUSE!! 🤬🤬🤬

[6:13 PM]

Louise Fischoeder  →  Logan Bush (from town)

IM SERIOUS!

[6:14 PM]

Louise Fischoeder  →  Logan Bush (from town)

LOGAN!!!! 🤬

[6:15 PM]

13 missed called from Louise Fischoeder

 Logan Bush (from town)  → Two Ears 🐰

I’ll see you tomorrow, Louise.

🌙 Logan has notifications silenced

[7:13 PM]

Two Ears 🐰   →  the bane of my existence

OFDNVF*$@AL%#V- I DUCKIN HATE U!!!! 🤬🔥🗡️💀

[7:15 PM]

24 missed called from Two Ears 🐰