was. A lot of parents had no idea what their children did outside of the home. She’d always been able to tell her gramps anything. She should be able to now. But this time, she was failing — it wasn’t something she was used to.
Daisy had graduated from college when she was twenty, taking so many credits in high school she’d been halfway through when she’d entered as a sophomore. Then she’d taken brutal course loads and attended through the summers.
Most kids liked school. She’d actually loved schoolwork; she’d just been ready to move on. She’d wanted a career and had always carried visions of saving the world one building, one historic area, and one town at a time. The real world hadn’t been as kind as she’d imagined it would be.
She’d earned enough with her writing over the past seven years to not need help from anyone, but just barely. She’d even managed to publish some material as she’d traveled the world. But she wasn’t making a difference.
Tired of pacing the terminal, Daisy found an empty chair between a man and a woman who appeared to be together but didn’t look happy with each other. She thought about standing, but she was bone tired.
She sat and faced forward as her gramps continued speaking.
“The Andersons are building a new senior housing area in town that’s going to have a recreation center, a coffee house, and an indoor swimming pool. I’m so excited. I already put my name on the list. I just love the Andersons. They’re such good people, and they have a couple of new nephews who happen to be single . . .” Her grandfather kept on going, but Daisy’s spidey sense was tingling.
She knew all about the Andersons as her grandfather had been friends with Joseph Anderson for as long as she could remember. She’d rarely seen Mr. Anderson, but her grandfather spoke kindly of him and that was all she needed to know. He was practically royalty in the Seattle area, but she’d learned long ago that money didn’t make anyone better.
She wasn’t worried about her grandfather moving. The land he’d been on had been in their family for three generations. She’d do something beautiful with the property one day, helping others, possibly making a community center. But that would happen years down the road.
“Gramps, absolutely positively don’t think about playing matchmaker. I’ve had one disastrous relationship after another, and I’m tired of men thinking they’re the alpha and omega. I want to figure out my path without any man holding my hand. And there’s no way I’d date an Anderson with all of their money and egos that are even bigger than their wallets.”
Her gramps kept on going as if she hadn’t said anything. “Can’t wait for you to be home. You missed the holidays. But none of that matters now because you’ll be home for this year’s festivities. I’m so glad you’ll be back. Your parents were passionate about traveling the world too, but I love that you appreciate home. I’m an old man and only have so much time left.”
Her grandfather had used that line on her before, but, though it did fill her with guilt to think of being away if something happening to him, her gramps was in excellent health. She knew she’d settle at home eventually, but she’d hoped it wouldn’t be quite so soon.
She might be going home to a small town, but it was near Seattle. It shouldn’t be too hard to find work. She had to earn money so she could focus on saving the world, which was her passion. What was she going to do next, though? What could she do to make people care?
She felt uninspired. No matter how much she shouted at the top of her lungs, no one seemed to listen. If she gave up on herself she wouldn’t be able to convince anyone of anything. So what could she do?
What if she wrote a book? What if she turned an article into a work of fiction that would draw people in? What if she gave a story to these historic places? Would that make people care more?
She heard nothing of what her grandfather said as that idea roamed through her brain. She’d authored many articles that had put money into her account, and although they didn’t get national attention, they paid her bills. She knew how to put words on paper and make them flow. How hard could it be to go