Age 5:
She had been quietly saving up the quarters she had found around the house, placing them faithfully in the second-hand piggy bank her dad had found for her at the flea market. She had thought over what she would eventually buy, her mind had flung between the idea of purchasing sugary sweets, a new companion for her dollhouse, a pretty new dress, or maybe some new shoes to replace the frayed ones she had been wearing for so long. But before long, she had finally decided on a bike. It was high time she learn how to ride one, and she had set her sights on the perfect one at the store. The most beautiful rose gold colour, with plastic flowers placed on the front of the basket, and rainbow-like tassels that sprouted from it that left a magic like glean in Hermione's eyes. It would be perfect! (It was also the one her mommy had told her that sadly, they just couldn't afford something like that. She would have plenty of other presents that Christmas.) But all the other families on the block could.
Age 13:
Hand-me-down sweaters. Hand-me-down shoes. Hand-me-down books. Her whole life seems to be second-hand, with everything from her clothes to her school books coming from people who no longer wanted the items in question. For once she wanted to have things for her own. Not stuff that came from strangers, or from her older sisters. She'd see the stares and the giggles from the other girls, snide remarks on her quality of life whispered in the shadows of school as she turned her back. Sticks and stones, right? But a small part of her shrivelled up and died every time a cruel comment or a judgy look was thrown her way, reminding her of all the things she didn't have. She loved her family with all her heart, but never before had her lack of money left her feeling so alienated from everyone else.
Age 18:
Money. Everything came down to money. Split bills at Pop's with the Vixens or her friends. Date nights with Fred, where she knew that even if he'd allow her to pay, that she probably couldn't. Yet somewhere along the way as things cool off with Fred, she sees Hiram, and he sees her. And somehow he sees beyond the tatty sweaters and the borrowed clothes from Penelope, and sees the need for belonging. The need for love and stability, in an unstable world, where her mom was still working herself to the bone for that long sought after American dream. He takes her away from it all -from Riverdale- and she loves him all the more for it.
Age 32:
From nothing to everything. Her new life in New York had transformed her into the person she'd always longed to be, someone who commanded power and respect, and who never had to worry about putting food on the table. Though she loved the clothes, the baubles, and the many other gifts showered upon her by her husband, her greatest treasure had turned out to be the one thing she had been unable to buy. Veronica would want for nothing. She would never have the life she had, yearning for more in a world that seemed designed for heartbreak and loss. She would make sure of it.
Age 43:
It was like someone had knocked down a stack of cards. Hiram, arrested. Their once perfect family life was gone, and their family reputation was in ruins. How could he have been so careless? And suddenly it was back to Riverdale once more, surviving on the bare minimum in order to remain afloat. She had never had so much but so little in all her life.