“Mommy! Look!” Cami runs into the kitchen, dropping envelopes of mail behind her like a breadcrumb trail.
“¡Cuidado!” I grab her before she runs straight into an open cabinet.
She holds her envelope high in the air. “I got mail!”
I recognize the logo instantly. It’s been a few months since Cami took the entrance exam for Wisteria Prep, an exclusive private school that only opened a few years ago to cater to the families moving here from Chicago. Cami begged me to apply since a few of her friends were transferring there, so I let her even though the principal warned me they only had two seats available for the incoming first-grade class.
My girl is the smartest kid I know, but those kinds of places are all about politics and who you know. Her chances of getting in were always slim.
Which is why you have to face the consequences of your actions.
She bounces up and down, waving the envelope in the air. “Can we open it now? Please?”
“Let me do it.” At least that way I can have a second to mentally prepare for how I’ll break the news to her.
My hands shake as I wipe them across my apron, prolonging the inevitable by cleaning the flour off my fingers.
“Mommy! Hurry up!” She waves the envelope in front of my face.
“All right. Let me have it.”
Cami slaps it into my waiting hand. I open the envelope with a butterknife before pulling out the thick piece of paper.
“What does it say?” She shifts her weight from foot to foot, making her sneakers light up.
“I’m going.” I unfold the paper and read the first line.
Congratulations, Camila Theresa Castillo…
“You got in.” The words come out in a hoarse whisper.
“What?! Ah!” She takes off running and screaming at the top of her lungs. “I get to go to school with all my friends!” She disappears into the hallway, her voice echoing off the twelve-foot ceilings.
I continue reading the letter, my heart tripping over the tuition price at the bottom.
“Thirty-five thousand dollars? For first grade?”
Somehow it continues to get worse. Prices only go up from there, with twelfth grade costing almost fifty grand. The letter also emphasizes how Wisteria Prep encourages the arts and requires students to participate in at least one afterschool activity. They can range from a thousand dollars a month to five, depending on what activity the child chooses.
The room spins around me. When Cami applied, it was only a pipe dream meant to make her happy temporarily, but now that it is a reality, I feel sick to my stomach. Even after accounting for the financial aid Cami was offered, there is still no way I could afford the school on my kind of salary.
I reach out for the countertop, afraid my knees might buckle.
“Hey, what’s all the yelling—Whoa. Are you okay?”
Of all the people to be present during my little breakdown…
I’ve been lucky enough to avoid him since our fight about the house, but I knew it would only last so long.
Just keep it short and sweet.
I take a deep breath and look up at Cal. His usual casual outfit of a button-down and pants is replaced by athletic pants and a workout T-shirt that is drenched around the collar with sweat.
“What are you wearing?” I try my hardest to keep my eyes focused on his face, but they drift toward the abs pressing against the tight fabric of his T-shirt.
“I was working in the attic when I heard screaming.”
“Oh.” I speak to his stomach muscles.
His low chuckle snaps me out of my embarrassing display of desperation.
He reaches for a glass in the cabinet and fills it up with water. My skin warms, my heart beating harder at the way his tongue darts out to lick a stray droplet from his lips.
What I would offer to do the same…
“What’s going on?” His Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow of water.
Fuck.
Is it hot in here or am I just having a meltdown? I fan my face with Cami’s letter, trying to cool my hot cheeks.
Cal catches me staring and winks.
Ugh. Even a simple wink has my body vibrating with excitement.
“What’s that?” He points at the paper in my hand.
“Cami’s acceptance letter.”
“For what?”
“A private school that just opened recently off Main. It’s pretty tough to get into, so she’s a bit excited about getting to stay with her best friends. I spent half the year preparing her for a rejection letter, but now that she got in…”
“You’re worried,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. For someone who has spent the last six years away, he sure hasn’t lost the ability to read me well.
My head drops. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because not all of us are billionaires.” I do my best to support Cami. Whatever my girl wants, my girl gets. Dance lessons, gymnastics classes, afterschool art programs. Keeping her happy and busy comes with personal sacrifices, but I’m happy to provide for her in a way my sister never could. Yet, I still feel like I could do more. That I could work harder. Pick up a side hustle. Find a way to make more money.
There is one option.
A piercing hot sensation shoots through my chest.
Cal’s forehead creases with confusion. “Didn’t my grandfather leave you some money after he passed?”
My body temperature spikes, and I try to take a deep breath to regulate myself. I’m not even sure who I’m most angry at—Cal for bring up the inheritance or my sister for wasting a majority of it.
Cal’s gaze hardens. “He did leave you some money, right?”
My jaw hurts from how hard I clamp down on my molars.
“What happened—”
I speak up before he can finish his sentence. “It’s gone.”
“How much did he give you?”
My nails bite into the flesh of my palms. “Why does it matter?”
His face softens. “Because you’re not the kind of person to blow through money like that unless something happened.”
“You know what? Forget I said anything.” I swipe the rest of my mail off the counter and leave the kitchen before he has a chance to ask me where the money went.
Cal warned me years ago about my sister, but I didn’t listen. If he found out about all the mistakes I made, he would be furious.
Not at me.
But for me.
And I know with all my heart that I can’t risk what a reaction like that might do to me, so I do what Cal has always done best.
I run.
“What’s up with you tonight?” Violet nudges me in the shoulder. “You didn’t even comment on Mr. Jeffries hitting on Ms. Reyes at the bar.”
“Mr. Jeffries likes Ms. Reyes? Since when?” I have worked with both of them at the school for years and never would have guessed either one liked the other based on their STEM rivalry.
“Apparently! Although the feeling is not mutual based on how quickly she shut him down.”
“It was pretty sad to watch.” Delilah clasps her hands over her heart. “But also weirdly entertaining. Kind of like one of those reality TV dating shows.”
“It’s a mystery how some people find their future spouses here.” I look around Last Call. The bar is old and run-down, but all the locals love it since the tourists don’t know about it. There is even a jukebox that still works if hit in the right spot.
“There’s always that tourist trap bar off Dale Mayberry Road if you’re in the mood for egotistical, stock market assholes who are obsessed with anal because regular sex is ‘too intimate.’” Violet throws up a pair of air quotes.
Delilah chokes on her seltzer. “I’m so glad I’m taken.”
“Not all of us were lucky enough to find the love of our life in high school.” Violet sticks out her tongue.
Delilah looks down at her ring with a smile. My chest tightens, the sensation screwing with my head. I’m not jealous of Delilah. I feel nothing but happiness for her and her husband, yet something in me feels off-kilter.
Maybe you are jealous.
The thought makes the acid in my stomach roll.
“I’m going to use the restroom.” I slide out of the booth and bolt toward the bathrooms.
A few people stop me along the way to say hello, but I keep the small talk to a minimum as I travel to the back of the bar.
The noise around me disappears as I shut the door and flip the lock. The sick churning sensation in my stomach remains, and I take a few deep breaths to ground myself.
Guilt always hits me first. It tramples all sensible thoughts, making me feel like a shitty person for being jealous of Delilah and Wyatt. Of wanting what they have and wishing it were me who was able to find someone special.
As quickly as the guilt arose, it fades away, leaving me with a hollow feeling in my chest—the same feeling I always get when I think about going home tonight and crawling into bed alone.
Better to be alone yet secure than in a relationship and worried.
It takes me a few minutes to gather myself and let the overwhelming nausea pass. By the time I return, Delilah and Violet have moved on to safer conversations and the empty feeling in my chest is no longer present.
It only took five minutes of deep breathing in a public bathroom to get there.
My mind drifts throughout the next hour. At one point, I go back to drawing mindless patterns through the condensation building on my glass of water.
“What do you think, Alana?” Delilah asks.
“What?” I blink.
“Did you hear a word of what I just said?”
I wince. “Sorry.”
“Seriously, what’s gotten into you?” Violet turns to look at me.
“I think I’m going to have to sell the house.” Even though I spent the last two days processing the news, it still doesn’t feel real.
“What? Why?” Delilah gasps.
“Cami got into Wisteria Prep.”
“I knew she would! They’d be stupid not to pick her.” Delilah claps her hands together. Her enthusiasm quickly dies as she checks out the look on my face. “Wait. Are you going to sell the house to help pay for the school?”
I swallow past the thick lump in my throat. “I don’t have any other choice.”
“What about financial aid?” Violet frowns.
“They offered me a good amount, but even with the scholarship, it’s not enough to cover everything.”
“But you love the house.” Her scowl deepens.
“And I love Cami more.” My voice cracks. “You should have seen the look on her face when she got in.” My smile wobbles. “She spent the whole morning working on her dance moves because she wants to be ready for ballet with the big girls. There is no way I can say no.”
Delilah clasps on to my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Are you sure about this?”
No, I’m not, but hopefully by the time we are prepped to sell the house, I will be ready to come to terms with leaving it, even if it means breaking a piece of my heart in the process.
I stop in front of the empty store window and stare at my reflection in the glass.
My two best friends keep walking down the sidewalk, unaware of my absence as Violet continues talking to Delilah about her neighbor from hell. “Can you believe he actually told me to go buy earplugs? Like I’m the abnormal one because I don’t want to hear him fucking like a porn star at three a.m. I swear, one of these days I’m going to bring someone home just so he can see how it feels… What do you think—hey!” Violet backtracks.
Delilah follows behind, using her cane to prop herself up. Today is a sucky arthritis day for her, but she doesn’t let that stop her from chasing after Violet.
“Sorry.” I look over at them with a wobbly smile. “I got distracted.”
Delilah gives my shoulder a nudge. “What are you dreaming about this time?”
I shut my eyes and imagine the windowfront full of decor and glass pastry stands. “Summer-themed display. Bright colors that pop and treats featuring the fruits of the season.”
Violet sighs. “Sounds like a dream.”
That’s because it is.
“What do you think would be your bestseller?” Delilah points her cane at the window.
I look away from our reflections in the window. “Dee—”
She wags her finger in front of me. “Uh-uh-uh. You know how we play the game.”
The three of us have been doing the dream game ever since Violet learned about manifestation. It hasn’t worked out for us yet, but that doesn’t stop my friends from trying.
She pokes me in the side. “Stop thinking so much and just tell me the first thing that comes to mind.”
I bite down on my lip and consider my answer. “Well…you know how crazy everyone gets for my blueberry crumb cake.”
Violet grins. “I’ve never seen so many people fight over a bunch of leftover crumbs. Even Sheriff Hank was ready to throw hands during last year’s Fourth of July barbeque, and he is practically medically sedated nowadays.”
My lungs burn from how hard I laugh.
Delilah, the softer one of my two best friends, shifts her cane to her left hand so she can wrap her other arm around my shoulder. “You know, if you sold the house, you would have the money to buy this place and turn it into the best bakery in Michigan.”
I shake my head so hard, my vision blurs. “Not happening.”
Violet pipes up. “Just think about it. You’re the one who said you wouldn’t risk giving up a steady paying job and health insurance for a dream. But once you sell the lake house, you’ll have the money to cover all the startup costs of opening a new business.”
I shake my head. “No way. That money isn’t for me.”
Violet tilts her head. “Even with Wisteria Prep’s tuition, you wouldn’t spend more than a quarter of it.”
“I should be saving, not spending.”
Delilah’s hold around my shoulders tightens. “It’s okay to be a little selfish and think about yourself every now and then. Cami would want you to be happy.”
“What if I’m not good enough?” I voice my fear aloud. It’s the same one that has kept me up many nights, rooted deep in years of questioning my self-worth. I’ve spent most of my life running from that worry ever since my father packed his bags and said he wasn’t coming back.
“What if you end up spending the rest of your life regretting not taking a chance when you had it?” Violet wraps her arm around me, right above Delilah’s.
“Or what if Missy opens a shop here instead and ends up becoming the town’s favorite baker?” Delilah teases.
I gasp. “Take that back.”
“I don’t know. It could be possible that someone comes for your crown. I heard Missy was trying to master a tres leches recipe before the Fourth of July bake-off.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I should have suspected something when she was following me around the grocery store last month, asking me all kinds of questions about what brand of condensed milk I like most.”
Violet pinches me in the side, making me laugh. “The point is, you’ll miss out on all the things you could have done if you just asked yourself why not instead of what if.”
“Who knew you could be so deep?”
She taps her temple. “Tequila makes me thoughtful.”
“And horny,” Delilah finishes for her, earning a jab to the ribs.
I wrap my arms around both of my friends and pull them in for a big hug. “You’ll be my first two customers?”
Delilah smiles. “Like we ever had a choice.”
