her soup when she noticed what the guys had on the board. “Harvard’s not even an option, guys. I mean, I’m down for you going, and I can look at community college there or even take a skip year and work on the album with Ian.”
“That sounds great, Angel. Except…”
“Harvard’s back on the table, babe.” Leaving the board, Archie moved to perch on the coffee table in front of us. She lowered the soup cup to stare at him.
“I know I’m sick, but that doesn’t make sense. Did they move me off the waitlist?”
“Not yet,” he said. “But we know people, including your grandparents and mine, who are connected. Harvard’s an option. For all of us. It won’t just be you we get in. Jake and I are in, and Bubba got in with the conservatory, so that’s gonna lend weight to getting him at Harvard. That just means you and Coop. It’s totally doable.”
“But that means someone else will get skipped that might have been ahead of us in line.”
And that right there was what I’d said she’d do. Archie blew out a breath.
“May get skipped, babe. May. They don’t have a precise number of applicants they accept or decline each year.”
“Their admissions are based on programs, and even if someone got in and didn’t take their spot and that spot opened up, then it would go to the next person on the list. You’re talking about skipping me and Coop over other people who may not have those connections. That’s not fair.”
She let out a little sigh, and when she tried to shift, I helped her slide over to sit on the sofa, and Bubba rescued the nearly empty soup cup before she took Archie’s hands.
“I know you are trying to fix this for me. But I want to get in because I earned the spot, not because Maddy is my mother. I don’t want anything from her. Not that name.” She swallowed hard. Over the past couple of weeks, she’d talked to her grandparents twice. Both times, it had been a stilted conversation, but she was trying. “I don’t know them. Some of what I know, I don’t like. You…you have been you your whole life. Your name opens doors, and you deserve to have them opened because you’re brilliant. You don’t coast—”
“And you do?” he challenged, and I caught Jake’s eye. We’d all argued this already, but Archie thought he could convince her, and if he did, fine, we were in. Harvard had been her dream. “’Cause you work twice as hard as anyone I know, and you’ve never had a door opened for you that I know of. If anything, they’ve been closed or you didn’t even know they were there. Babe, even if Grandpa and I open that door—just us, not your grandparents—you’re still the one who has to walk through it.”
She blew out a breath, and the flushed look to her cheeks had cooled some, but her eyes were still a little glassy as she gripped Archie’s hands. “I let go of this dream. We started talking about New York and, with Ian recording, I know the city is expensive.”
“Don’t think about cost right now,” he advised, and on this, I agreed. We’d figure it out.
Jake moved in closer. “Archie’s right, don’t think about cost, don’t think about who is opening the door. Think about the school and where you want to be in the fall.”
With a look to each of us, she said, “Did you guys fall that hard for Harvard while we were there?”
Bubba shrugged, and I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s a good school,” I said.
“Kind of stuffy,” Jake pointed out. “But the history is on point.”
“It’s a school,” Archie admitted. “It’s not where, it’s who. Right now, you’re the who. You wanted it. Do you not anymore?”
“Don’t be mad,” she said softly.
“Hey,” I said, sliding an arm around her. “No one is mad. If you changed your mind, you’re entitled.”
“It’s not so much that I changed it, but…I let it go. When we were there, it was great. I loved getting to see it with all of you. But I like the idea of New York. If Ian and I start recording a lot, then we can do it there in the city, and it means less time away from all of you. There’s the park and the concerts and Broadway. There’s skiing not that far away in Pennsylvania and Maryland. Though, I’m really rather fond of