I can see enough of the form to recognize it’s an application for federal student loan aid. The caption below the picture reads,You can do big things with small steps.
There’s one comment:
SunshineStateofMind:One step closer!!!
I click on that profile, hoping to figure out who is behind the screen name, but the account is private. The photo is of an orange. Absolutely nothing to help me figure out who it is.
I navigate back to Lanny’s recent post and stare at it, trying to sort through my emotions. A part of me is worried this might be too much information out in the world. Anyone who sees this picture will know she’s college-age and college-bound. Her account is like a puzzle pointing to who she is and where she is, and this is another piece of that puzzle.
I recognize I’m focused on that because I don’t want to face the larger implications of this picture. She’s applying for financial aid. She’s already gotten a full ride to the local community college—her GPA was enough to secure that. So, if she’s applying for aid, it’s because she’s looking to go somewhere else. Which was already obvious from the stack of acceptance letters hidden in her room.
But another part of me hoped that maybe that was a whim, and she was only applying to see if she could get in. This is more serious.
I still don’t understand why she hasn’t talked to me about any of this.
There’s a soft knock at my door, and I glance up to find Sam standing on the threshold. With a sinking sense of guilt, I realize I haven’t told him about what I’ve discovered. In part because I don’t want to admit that I went sneaking around Lanny’s room, and in part because I don’t want to share this information until I have a better handle on how I feel about it.
So now Lanny is keeping this secret from me, and I’m keeping it secret from Sam. So many secrets in this family. Too many.
I close the browser and swivel my chair toward Sam. “Time to head out?”
“Yeah, about that?—”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Changed your mind already?”
He shakes his head without even a hint of a smile. I notice that he looks wound up, his shoulders tense. He drums his fingers against his leg—a habit of his when he’s nervous or preoccupied. I narrow my eyes, giving him my complete focus.
“What’s up?”
“Look, I know this isn’t the best timing, but I have to run out real quick. I’m not sure if I’m going to make it back in time to pick you up to meet that podcaster.”
I shift, uneasy. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just something’s come up I gotta take care of.” He doesn’t elaborate.
“Oh, okay. You want me to come with you? I just need to grab my bag and?—”
He’s already shaking his head. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“I can call her and reschedule for another day when you’re available,” I offer.
“There’s no need. I doubt I’ll even be that late, but just in case I think it makes more sense for you to take a rideshare.”
I’m surprised he’d suggest I go on my own. Then again, he knows I’m able to take care of myself. “No problem.”
He nods. “Thanks. I’ll fill you in later. I just have to run right now, and it’s too much to explain.”
It’s obvious that whatever he’s dealing with is important to him. As curious as I am, he’s more than earned my respect and trust over the years. “I’ll see you at the hotel. Good luck with”— I wave my hand—“whatever it is.”
He gives me a brief smile. “Thanks.” Then he’s gone.
Before ordering the car, I shut down my computer and get ready—not that it takes much. My shoulder holster hangs on a hook in the bedroom closet, and I slide it on. Then I grab my favorite gun from the safe built into my bedside table. Thankfully, it’s winter, so it won’t be difficult to conceal the weapon under bulky clothes. I pull on a sweater and jacket, then order my ride.
By the time the car arrives, and we make it through traffic to the hotel, I’m about five minutes late to meet Madison. Having spent so much time on her abandoned social media page, I’m familiar enough with what she looks like and know I’ll easily be able to recognize her. But I don’t see her anywhere in the bar or the lobby. Five minutes later, she still hasn’t shown, and irritation prickles along my spine.
I wasn’t the one to ask for this meeting and I’m starting to think the entire endeavor has been a waste of time. I’m about to bail when my phone rings. It’s Madison. “I’m at the bar and don’t see you. I understand if you changed your mind about wanting to meet, but I thought I would reach out in the hope that I might be able to convince you otherwise.”
I glance around again, wondering how I could have missed her. “I’m here,” I tell her. “I’m sitting in a corner booth. Where are you?”