the woman who’d been more of a mother to her than her own through her teenage
years.
“So,” Mrs. Grady began as Laurel hurried in, “I guess you think you’re all grown-up now.”
“I—”
“Well, you’re not. But you’re getting there. The four of you’ve been running tame around
here since you were in diapers. Some of that’s going to change, with all of you going your own
ways. At least for a time. Birds tell me your way’s to New York and that fancy baking school.”
Her heart took another trip, then suffered the pinprick of a deflated dream. “No, I’m, ah,
keeping my job at the restaurant, and I’m going to try to take some courses at the—”
“No, you’re not.” Again, Mrs. G pointed a finger. “Now, a girl your age in New York City
best be smart and best be careful. And from what I’m told, if you want to make it at that school
you have to work hard. It’s more than making pretty frostings and cookies.”
“It’s one of the best, but—”
“Then you’ll be one of the best.” Mrs. G reached in her pocket. She held out a check to
Laurel. “That’ll cover the first semester, the tuition, a decent place to live, and enough food to
keep body and soul together. You make good use of it, girl, or you’ll answer to me. If you do
what I expect you’re capable of, we’ll talk about the next term when the time comes.”
Stunned, Laurel stared at the check in her hand. “You can’t—I can’t—”
“I can and you will. That’s that.”
“But—”
“Didn’t I just say that’s that? If you let me down, there’ll be hell to pay, I promise you.
Parker and Emma are going off to college, and Mackensie’s dead set on working full-time with
her photography. You’ve got a different path, so you’ll take it. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“More than anything.” Tears stung her eyes, burned her throat. “Mrs. G, I don’t know what
to say. I’ll pay you back. I’ll—”
“Damn right, you will. You’ll pay me back by making something of yourself. It’s up to you
now.”
Laurel threw her arms around Mrs. Grady, clung. “You won’t be sorry. I’ll make you
proud.”
“I believe you will. There now. Go finish getting ready.”
Laurel held on another moment. “I’ll never forget this,” she whispered. “Never. Thank you.
Thank you, thank you!”
She rushed for the door, anxious to share the news with her friends, then turned, young,
radiant. “I can’t wait to start.”