Waylaid (True North #8) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,54

bringing that,” my mother says.

“Even better,” Audrey chirps. “His guacamole is great.”

“I can make sangria, and lemonade,” I offer. “But what about dessert?”

“Pies,” my mother says. “We’ll make them after lunch. Will you help?”

“Sure,” I say quickly. “No problem.”

“Okay, on to finance,” Griffin says, opening a file folder. “I’m trying to decide the best timing for investing in solar. There’s a nice tax incentive that would cut down the cost. But the up-front expenditure is still kind of steep.”

“How steep?” Mom asks.

“The proposal is right here. But I haven’t seen this year’s tuition bills yet. Who’s got numbers for me?”

Oh boy. This is the moment I’ve been dreading. I pull my financial aid award out of my back pocket and hand it to Griffin. “This came a week ago. They took their time.”

Griffin unfolds the document, which he quickly scans. “Whoa. Why’s the cost so much more than last year?” He looks up. “Shouldn’t we be saving money with you at a state school?” His eyes dart from me to my mother.

Mom just shakes her head.

“No, unfortunately,” I explain. “They, um, just don’t have the same endowment as Harkness. Dylan’s full-time bills look just like mine.”

“I thought that was because Dylan is a B and C student,” Griffin says.

“You’re kidding right now, right?” my twin asks. “That’s not how financial aid works.”

“I didn’t know that,” Griffin grumbles, scanning the page again, as if the numbers would change. “Is it because Daphne applied late?”

“No! But thanks for asking,” I snap.

“Hey!” He holds up two hands in surrender. “I just thought maybe there was a chance we’ll do a little better for the second semester.”

“No,” I say, drowning in my shame. “The aid is just not as good. And I couldn’t determine that before I switched. Also, last year I got a fellowship. And, uh, this year they didn’t fund me.”

Everyone stares at me with pity in their eyes. And I actually feel worse than I did last night when I finally dared to open the envelope.

“Okay,” Mom says gently. “It is what it is.”

“I could take out an additional loan,” I offer. “Just for this year. To replace those funds.”

“But what about grad school?” Griffin asks. “That’s still your plan, right?”

“I’ll, uh, worry about that later. I’ll be applying for other fellowships.”

There’s an awkward silence. Griffin scans the numbers again and jots something down on his notepad. “I still am not a hundred percent clear on why you’re transferring. Actually, I’m zero percent clear.”

“Griff,” my twin warns. Dylan hates conflict. “She doesn’t have to explain every decision.”

“This was a big one, though,” Griffin says quietly. “Can I not ask?”

Another silence follows, and everyone is staring at me. They’re all wondering why I spent my teen years saying I couldn’t wait to go somewhere more cosmopolitan, only to come running home a year before I received my degree from one of the nation’s most elite colleges.

“It wasn’t the right place for me,” I say eventually.

He sighs. “Okay. If that’s what you’re going with.”

“Does it matter?” May asks. “What if I loaned the farm a couple thousand dollars, so you don't have to choose between the tuition and solar panels?”

Oh hell no. “I’m not taking your money,” I say, and it comes out sounding way too sharp.

May sits back in her chair, like I’ve just slapped her. And Dylan just shakes his head at me.

So I’m the bitch again. Lovely. But I really don't want her paying for my mistakes. I have enough sister guilt, thanks.

“Never mind,” Griffin says. Now that he’s stirred everything up, he wants to move on. “I’ll pause the solar until spring. Moving on to payroll… we have all the help we need right now, which is nice. Why is the bank account out of balance with QuickBooks?”

"Rickie hasn't cashed his paychecks,” my mother says.

"Ah," he jots down a note.

”Daphne, can you remind him?" Dylan asks.

"Why me?" I squeak. Is it really that obvious that I spend way too much time thinking about Rickie, and his wicked mouth?

Dylan gives me a look like I'm an idiot. “Because you two go to Burlington every week, where he banks?"

"Oh, sure." I really need to just keep my mouth shut this morning. Where’s the duct tape when I need it?

“All right,” Griffin says. “So everything is on track for the remainder of July and August, personnel wise. But I’m worried about September and October. Daphne, Dylan, Chastity, and Rickie are all back to school. We'll need bodies.”

“Especially on the weekend,” Audrey adds.

“Do

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