Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Really?” I ask.
He nods. “The last child was moved into a group home situation that specializes in successful transitions out of foster care. He’s already signed up for a work-study program that’ll let him graduate with a welding certificate.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s only one child, but each and every one getting set on a path to a better life matters. In a twisted sort of way, it’s almost what I did—leaving care with a skill that would take me further than I dreamed. Because I never would’ve imagined I’d go from trash bags of clothes to living in a home like Cameron’s. Like ours.
“That reminds me, I talked to Miranda today.”
“What’s MeeMaw H doing? Are we going to get our nails done?” Grace interjects.
Cameron shakes his head. “That’s only for special occasions and you know it. Otherwise, you can paint your nails yourself.”
He doesn’t tell her no very often, but when he does, she usually accepts it pretty easily. She really is a great kid, and Cameron has done a fantastic job with her. Some credit has to go to the previous nannies too, of course, but mostly, I think it’s Cameron, and Grace herself. And me too, of course.
“Miranda had an idea she wanted to run by me.” I’m already smiling. I have been since she told me her great idea. Well, as soon as I picked my jaw up from the floor, I’d smiled.
“What’s she up to now? Did she contract a venue without asking?”
Miranda would never do anything like that, though she is excited for the wedding. I haven’t had the heart to tell her that I think I want a small ceremony with the Harringtons there and no one else. Certainly not an event of the season like she once mentioned. I know Cameron has lots of work colleagues and associates, but they don’t really care about our getting married, and I want to be surrounded by people who care for something important like that.
“She wants to do a suitcase drive for National Foster Care Day,” I tell him. He blinks, and I realize I might as well have been speaking another language. He doesn’t get it. “She wants to collect suitcases and donate them to foster children so they don’t have to use trash bags when they move. There’s about twenty thousand kids in the state and she figures each suitcase will be around fifty dollars, which is a million dollars. She said she’ll get some donated, and do some fundraising too, so that as new children come into the system, they’ll get a suitcase too. But she’s on a mission to do away with foster kids’ trash bags for the state.”
I feel shocked, even as I say it again. When Miranda asked me if that would have a beneficial impact on the children in care, I’d been utterly gobsmacked. I think I muttered ‘yeah’ a couple of times before it fully sank in what she was offering to do.
“That’s awesome. Tell her we can help with that too, financially or with coordination efforts or delivery.” Cameron shrugs. “Whatever she needs.”
Just like that. Poof. With a snap of his fingers, he’s on board and between him and his mom, they’re going to improve things for so many children.
I still don’t have a grasp on the type of wealth the Harringtons have, but it doesn’t matter. It’s Cameron’s money and I don’t want it. I’m fine with what I make selling clothes, and Cole pays me well… very well, saying it’s worth it to keep me exclusive to them, as if I would work for anyone else. But the Harringtons have wealth beyond comprehension and do good things with it, like the suitcase deal. Miranda also does a bunch of other philanthropic work, which I don’t quite understand either, but seems to be a way she gives back to the community.
All in all, they’re a great family to have and I’m thankful they’ve taken me into their ranks.
I set down the knife I’m using to cut onions to top our chili and wipe my hands on a towel. I walk right up to Cameron and get in his space. “You are amazing. I love you.”
“I love you too, and I’m pretty sure you’re the amazing one,” he corrects, placing a quick kiss on my lips.
“Ugh, get a room,” Grace groans, suddenly paying attention to us after tuning out through a boring conversation about luggage.
I freeze for a moment, thinking we’ve gone too far even though we’ve kissed in front of her dozens of times at this point. “You should see your face, Riley,” she says, laughing. “You’re fine. Be all lovey-dovey if you want. It doesn’t gross me out at all,” she teases. But she’s smiling happily.
So is Cameron.
And so am I.
The End.