Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 655(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
She held the look for a long spell, then let it go with a smile. “Well, all that matters is that you’re here now. I love you, freak. Don’t do that to me again.”
“I won’t. I love you too.”
We lapsed into silence for a bit, working on our tasks.
I was first to break it.
“Have you thought about trying to find your brother? He’d be twenty-five now.”
She shrugged both mouth and shoulders. “It’s tough. After Dad let the secret slip, I went crying to Mom, then she went screaming to him. They both clammed up tight and haven’t given me a single detail about the adoption since.
“I don’t even know if they used an agency, or arranged a private adoption outside of the system. I don’t know his name or birthday. I don’t know if he’s still in the state. Or the country,” she cried. “I’ve got nothing to go on.”
“I’m sorry. That is tough. But if it makes you feel better...” I reached out, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Siblings are the fucking worst.”
Courtney barked a laugh, shaking her head at me. “Yours definitely was. Talk about a cautionary tale. But since you brought Sue back up on your own, I’ve got to ask, what the hell are you going to do now? Because you can’t just sit around all day, lying and pretending while waiting for your mother to die.” She flashed me an apologetic smile. “Sorry to phrase it that way, but I couldn’t think of another way to put it.”
“There isn’t another way to put it because that’s exactly what I’m doing.” I clutched the mixing bowl to my chest, rocking back on my heels.
The kitchen of Courtney’s Cookies and Cupcakes was as adorable and inviting as the rest of the café. She played up the Parisian theme that called back to her training, painting pink-and-green Eiffel Towers on the walls with little couples, families, and travelers painted in different poses beneath the towers. But as cutesy as it all was, I saw how serious Court took this business, and her goal to make it a success.
The kitchen was spotless. The work schedule posted on the wall had her slotted in at five a.m. almost every morning, and the internet search that brought me to this place, revealed a business that had hundreds of fabulous reviews.
No, she didn’t become the journalist she always talked about being, but she was doing just fine to me.
“Your life imploded, but from the ashes you built something beautiful,” I heard myself say. “That’s what I want, but how and when to start? I want to go back to school, but obviously I’m not going to enroll as Soo Min. That’s taking the fraud too far.”
Courtney hummed. “I was never sure, but did you get your high school diploma, or did the expulsion snatch that from you?”
I shook my head. “I took on those extra classes and credits to get into Yale, so I was a semester ahead. All of my final grades and exams were in. All my credits were complete. I still got my diploma, but when the teachers who gave me recommendations called Yale to tell them why they were rescinding them...”
“They revoked your acceptance,” she finished.
“Yep. And me being a dummy, I never applied for scholarships because Omma promised my college fund would cover wherever I wanted to go.”
“Plus, I know Colin’s mom sent letters to every college on the East Coast, telling them about the ‘prank’ gone wrong.”
My whisk started beating the batter a little too hard. “Yes, she did. So, I had the grades and the diploma, but no money, no recommendations, and no college that would take me even if I had them. After three years of rejections, I gave up.”
“Well, it’s been ten years now. People don’t hold the memory of others’ tragedies for that long. Admissions staff don’t stay in the same position or job for that long.” She saved the batter from me, beginning the process of marrying it to their crusty, cookie husbands. “I bet you could apply—as you—and get in.
“Do you still want to be a lawyer?”
“You know, I don’t think so.” I leaned against the table, folding my arms. “Back then, I wanted to be a lawyer because...” Visions of the hallway floated through my mind, carrying the whisper of laughing children, stockinged feet, and unending screams. “Because I thought it was the best and most important job in the world for helping people in need. That’s the kind of simplistic thinking you get from a kid.
“But now, after everything I’ve been through, I know you can help people in so many ways. And... uh... there’s something I’ve been thinking about... wanting to do... maybe— But it’s probably a terrible idea,” I said quickly. “No one would go for it.”