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“From what I’ve heard about Lauren’s past, no. My parents were just never interested in me.”
“That sucks.”
I nod. “Not as much as your situation. I’m sorry about your parents.” It’s late, but I say it anyway. “My condolences.”
She sighs deeply. “Thanks. And I never learned to cook from them either. I had to teach myself. Thank goodness for YouTube tutorials.”
“I can’t stand the ads, though,” I say.
“Oh, they’re awful. It’s getting out of control.”
“Did my PB&J meet your self-taught standards?”
She waffles her hand. “Too much jelly, not enough peanut butter.”
“Isn’t that subjective?” I tease.
“Isn’t asking me for my opinion seeking the subjective?”
I shrug. Fair enough.
We sit there and ruin Marian’s turkey fork thing, carrying on with a mutual sense of pessimism about life in general. I’m glad she exhibits an equal, if not greater, sense of sarcasm as me. It makes for easier conversation, and we don’t stick with the mundane or small talk. I can’t escape the feeling that now that we’re really talking to each other, we share a lot more in common than I would’ve first thought possible.
“I’m thinking about staying here in Colorado,” she admits after we talk about the upcoming seasons. She isn’t returning to teach in the fall, thanks to Jeremy, but I’m intrigued that she’s considering staying here. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”
She doesn’t, and I hate that. She lost her family. No relatives remain to take her in. She lost her job.
But not her skills.
“What about teaching somewhere else?” I ask.
She leans on her hand, giving up on the marshmallows. Her glance at me is slow and thoughtful, and I wish I knew what she is thinking. “Like where?”
“New York?”
She arches one brow.
“I have a second foundation. We fund scholarships for graduating high school seniors in the public school system. We place them in jobs or help them get vocational credits. College, too.”
“Impressive.”
“Would you ever consider coming to New York? The foundation could benefit from a skilled educator like you. We have plenty of teaching positions available, and more pop up each day.”
She shakes her head, smirking as she gazes at the fire again. “I can’t just go like that. I don’t have money to just up and move across the country on a whim.”
“It’s not a whim—”
“Then it’s throwing charity at my face.”
I shut my lips in a tight line. I should’ve considered she would view it that way. I’m not tossing money at her. I’m suggesting a job. It’s not like I’m creating an opening just for her. Many, many jobs are waiting to be filled. If she would accept it, yes, I would jump on the chance to help her with moving expenses, but I do have enough common sense not to blurb that idea.
“I’m only here now because the trip was planned. I’d already set aside money and time off to get here. And then with Jeremy doing what he did…” She groans and rubs her face. “I had to move out of my apartment because I couldn’t—and wouldn’t be able to—afford my rent.”
I get lost in the mesmerizing rise and fall of the flames. Red, orange, and yellow curve and wave in a dance as I consider her words. She’s honest and upfront, and I admire that about her.
“I get it.”
She scoffs and turns to smirk at me. “You get it.”
