“Well, sure.” He shuts the folder. “Please don’t tell me you want to work at the Moose for the rest of your life. It’s a great place and all, but there’s got to be more for you than that. You’re a smart girl, Zoe.”
Not once in all my years, did my biological father say something like this to me. I don’t know why Cameron’s kindness always startles me. I wish it didn’t. People ought to be kind to those they love.
I pick up the packet and stare at the words on the front. It all seems so easy, so attainable—and yet impossible at the same time. I tell him lamely, “It’s expensive.”
“That it is. But there are loans and grants you can apply for.” He studies me for a long moment; I know what’s coming, because I know Cameron, and I scramble to think of the right words to counter his offer. “I could help—”
“I can’t take your money.” I grab one of his hands and squeeze. “You’ve already done so much for me already.”
He won’t back down, since he’s a pit bull about things that matter to him, but for now, he concedes to me with a small nod. “I’ve been trying to talk Will into Culinary school. He’s . . .” Cameron scratches at his beard. “I’m afraid my boy is adrift. By twenty-two, I’d already been in and out of the military. Married his mum. Got a good job. Not that I’m saying he must follow my trajectory, because the Lord knows I don’t feel he’s ready for marriage and what not, it’s just . . .”
“You worry about him.” I lean over and kiss his grizzled cheek. “That’s what good dads do.”
Does my father worry about me? Wonder where I am? Or is he relieved that I’m gone, that I’m no longer causing him embarrassment?
Will appears in the doorway, the seam of his pillowcase fading on his cheek from his nap. “My ears are burning. Want to tell me why?”
I like Cameron’s smile. I like how it’s on his face more often than not. “Zoe was telling me about her plans to apply to the University of Alaska.”
This seems to please Will as much as it had his father. “Yeah? That’s brilliant, Zo.”
“What about you?” I ask innocently. “While I was searching online, I saw some great culinary schools here in Anchorage.”
He shakes a finger at his dad. “Getting Zoe to do your dirty work?”
Cameron isn’t apologetic.
“Personally, I think it’s a great idea,” I tell Will. He’s amazing with food. Even still, I have to tease, “The world always needs more Scottish cuisine.”
He laughs as his father mocks outrage. “Ah yes,” Will murmurs. “Fast food haggis. I can see my future franchise now.” He joins us on edge of my bed. “In all seriousness, you two. Enough with the poorly concealed hinting. Fine. I had a bit of a look around recently. Found a place that might be a good fit.”
I swear his father whispers, “Thank you, Lord.”
“But just because I looked doesn’t mean I’m going,” Will warns. “It was just for research. And I certainly haven’t applied or anything.”
“Of course,” Cameron murmurs. But I see the light in his eyes. He knows it’s only a matter of time before Will gives in and goes, because Will is one of the most cautious people I know. Will wouldn’t say something like this without thinking about every last in and out of the situation. He’s probably got a pro and con checklist in his back pocket.
Unlike me, who makes rash decisions on the spur of the moment. Only this time, I’m resolved to think things through.
They leave a few minutes later, Will to go play poker with Paul and a few friends, Cameron to work. I clean the house, do the dishes, take Nell for a walk, play ball with her, take a shower, yet all the while, the folder burning a hole in my every thought.
But when I go to bed that night, no additional papers are added.
I resisted getting a cell phone for the first two months I lived in Anchorage, but Ginny and Frieda browbeat me into ownership after one night that had me trekking home alone in the dark and snow due to a broken down bus. Will railed at me, going over every excuse in the book about how important a cell phone is nowadays, how women on their own in big cities is not a good idea, especially at night (for which I accused him of blatant sexism), but it was Ginny and Frieda who dragged me to the store and practically pinned me down to a kiosk until I selected one.
My old phone, the one I left behind, was a top-of-the-line Dwarven smartphone. I loved that thing. But I left it behind, like I did with everything else, knowing that if I had it, it would be too much of a temptation for me to give up.