Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
“Because of the whole You put our dad in prison thing?”
“Yeah, a little. Well, for one of them in particular. The middle daughter has been having a harder time than the other two seem to be.” I glance at my watch, grateful for an excuse to end this conversation. “Don’t you have a deposition?”
“Yeah.” She slants a knowing look at me. “Don’t think we’re done. I want to know everything.”
“Well, you won’t.”
We turn in our guest badges to a woman Tremaine recognizes as the librarian and head back out. A burst of laughter from the auditorium up the hall grabs my attention as we’re about to exit the building.
“You go on ahead,” I tell Tremaine distractedly. “I’m gonna use the bathroom before I leave.”
“The bathroom, huh?” Tremaine buttons up her coat and starts toward the door. “Tell your girlfriend I can’t wait to have her over for dinner. She can make that viral salad dressing for us.”
I don’t dignify that with a response. Keeping an eye out for Diane in case she drags me back to the front desk for a guest badge, I stealthily make my way toward the auditorium. I poke my head in just enough to see but not be seen. Soledad stands onstage behind a table, stirring something in a bowl and wearing an apron over her jumpsuit that says I’M THE COOL MOM.
“This dish is one of my girls’ favorites,” she tells the assembled sixth graders. “It bakes all in one pan. This one’s vegetarian because Inez’s sister doesn’t eat meat. Promise you won’t miss it. I brought some samples for everyone. How’s that sound?”
The crowd cheers when students from the class walk the aisles carrying trays with little cups of the food and tiny plastic tasting spoons.
“Pass me that salt, Nez,” Soledad says to the young girl standing beside her. I’ve seen photos of the girls on Soledad’s social media, and I knew her oldest, Lupe, strongly resembles Edward but has red hair instead of his blond. Seeing them side by side, I notice for the first time the strong resemblance between Soledad and her middle daughter. Inez beams, pride in every line as she assists her mother.
“I know I’m here cooking.” Soledad pauses to address the crowd, stepping out from behind the table. “But I’m not just a cook. I’m an influencer. A content creator. That wasn’t even really a thing when I was growing up, but now it is.”
She clasps her hands in front of her, smiling out over the crowd of students.
“You guys are the generation pioneering all this stuff,” she says. “I’m playing catch-up. I’ve always wanted my girls to go to college.”
She turns a playfully narrow-eyed glare on Inez. “I still do. Don’t get any ideas, young lady.”
Everyone laughs, and she turns that brilliant smile back on the assembly.
“But it’s amazing what you can do in the time we live now, the career you can have with your phone, a ring light, a few good ideas, and consistency. This is the perfect career for me because it allows me to do what I love most.” She pauses to shrug. “Make the best home possible for my girls and me. I share the meals I prepare, the ways I keep our house clean, the ways I manage our schedule and our budget with the world now. It’s my niche, and it’s changed my life. It’s given me a lot more than just a way to make a living. It’s given me new confidence and helped me value making a home as vocationally valid in a way that culture hadn’t reinforced before.”
She grins, watching the students chew on the samples. “Any questions?”
Hands fly up all over the room, and I hover in the hall for another fifteen minutes listening to her field questions and entertain her daughter’s classmates. Finally they break and head back into their classrooms. I hang out around the corner, waiting for the crowd to clear. Eventually Soledad and Diane appear in the hall, wobbly cart in tow.
“I need to go relieve the librarian,” Diane says. “She’s sitting in for me at the front desk. I can find someone to help you get this stuff to your car.”
I step out from behind the wall as if I were just casually coming from around the corner.
“Ms. Charles,” I say. I know I’m bad at this stuff by the amused look Soledad shoots me. “Still here? How’d it go?”
“Great, I think.” She turns to Diane. “Don’t worry about finding someone to help me. I’ll be fine on my own.”
Diane shakes her head. “Oh, but—”
“I’m on my way out,” I say, stepping in to steer the cart out of Soledad’s hands. “I can help.”
“If you’re sure?” Diane asks, flicking a glance from me to the cart.
“I’m sure,” Soledad and I say in unison.