Page 16 of Sweet
“I’m still thinking business. Or marketing.” At least those were classes she could use at the café. “Mr. T, did you go to school?”
“I did!” The man smiled broadly. “I graduated twenty years ago next spring.”
“And what did you study?”
His smile faltered. “Um… art history. You see, at the time—”
“But you like what you do, right?” Daisy was trying to prove a point, one she thought might work on her parents. “I mean, it’s obvious you really love what you do.” It was true, Mr. Talbot was one of her biggest supporters and encouragers, and she knew he was like that with all the students he saw. Despite her mood that day, she knew he was a great guidance counselor.
“I do love what I do.” Mr. Talbot beamed. “I love working with students, and I’m very glad you can see that.”
“I definitely can. Plus you’re really good at it. You’ve helped me plan my schedule so well that I’m nearly all done with my general education, and I’ve been in school less than two years.”
“It helped that you started taking college courses in high school.”
“Still, you love what you do, but it’s not what you studied in college. Maybe…” She shrugged. “I mean, if you already know what you want to do in life, should you really go to college? If doing that thing you love doesn’trequirea college degree?”
Mr. Talbot’s smile fell. “Daisy, are you thinking aboutnottransferring to a university?”
Yes!She couldn’t say it. “I mean… it’s more of a philosophical question, I guess. I’m just saying—”
“Are there…” Mr. Talbot’s eyes drifted down to Daisy’s stomach. “…personalreasons you might have to delay getting your education?” His voice was nearly a whisper.
“Oh my God, do you think I’m pregnant?” Daisy’s eyes went wide. “Why would you say that?”
“I’m not… I don’t…” Mr. Talbot sighed. “Daisy, I just don’t understand why you would want to put off your education. You’re bright and so talented. You could study anything. Psychology, business, premed. Literally, your grades are good ineverything.”
She could study anything, except… the thing she really wanted to do. Stay in Metlin and run the family café.
Daisy grabbed the stack of papers off Mr. Talbot’s desk and stood. “I’m going to take all this home and look over everything. I’ll call you in a couple of weeks to talk about where to send my applications. I have time, right?”
“Most deadlines are the end of November.” Mr. Talbot looked relieved that Daisy had picked up the paperwork. “You’ve got plenty of time.”
She was nearly crying by the time she reached her car. She stuffed her books and backpack in the trunk and slammed it shut. Then she leaned on her trunk, put her face in her hands, and drew in a ragged breath.
Yarn. She needed yarn.
Daisy strolledthrough the aisles of the big-box craft store and tried not to feel guilty. Tompkins Notions, the locally owned craft store downtown, didn’t have a great selection of yarn since it focused more on sewing than fiber crafts. With the emotional storm she was fending off, Daisy just wanted to be surrounded by masses and masses of yarn.
She wandered up and down the aisle, looking at acrylic, cotton, and fancy wools. She briefly flirted with a cream-colored alpaca skein before she remembered she lived in Metlin, California, and it rarely dropped below freezing.
She fondled bouclés and chenilles. She stroked ribbon and poked at bright fringe.
A solid hour of yarn therapy netted her three skeins for Christmas knitting and a fancy bouclé to make Imelda a scarf. She was juggling the yarn and trying to read a pattern hung on an end cap when she bumped into someone.
“Oh, I am so sorr—” She gasped when she saw who it was. “Spider?”
“Daisy.”
He was standing stock-still, a red basket clutched in one hand. His eyes raked over her, from her very unsexy sneakers to her faded jeans to the messy bun that probably still had a pencil or two sticking out of it.
He was frowning. “What are you doing here? Your aunt said you had a meeting at your school.”
“You asked my aunt where I was?”
“You weren’t at the café.”
“Neither were you.” She’d noticed. “Not for, like, a week.”
