Page 1 of Made For You
Prologue—Aurora
“You can let me out here,” I said to the ride-share driver as he inched forward in the early-evening Miami traffic. The hotel I was staying at was roughly three blocks down the road—at least, according to the GPS app I pulled up on my phone. The driver remained stoic, his hands clenching the steering wheel as we pulled forward another inch.
Wondering if he didn’t hear me over his radio, I repeated a little louder, “Sir, can I please go ahead and get out here?” I watched in the rearview mirror as his eyebrows pinched together and his lips pursed.
After what felt like an agonizing amount of time, he pressed the button to unlock my door, which had automatically locked earlier when he put the car in Drive.
“Thanks. I’ll pay for the full ride, of course, leave a tip,andgive you five stars,” I shouted hurriedly as I jumped free from the confines of the car and looped my weekend bag over my shoulder. He popped the trunk, and I grabbed my small rolling suitcase, grunting under its weight as I heaved it at hip-height and placed it on the ground. Despite my mood, I gently closed the trunk and dashed over to the sidewalk to get out of the crazy line of traffic.
In the app, I went ahead and paid the driver, rated him as promised, then joined the rest of the crowd shuffling down the busy sidewalk as I made my way to the hotel.
The noise of the street vendors and honks of cars melded together in an orchestra that was solelyMiami. I couldn’t explain it, but this was one of my favorite parts of the city. The tourists and city-goers meshed as they went about their day. Awoman in a neon-pink and yellow, skin-tight jumpsuit zoomed past me on rollerblades as a man in a three-piece business suit talked loudly on his Bluetooth next to me.
Apparently, he had forgotten his anniversary and was trying to snag a last-minute reservation at a restaurant downtown. I chuckled to myself, thinking about the world-famous television star, Roland McEntire, having a restaurant in my small town of Ashfield. And how my family had a standing reservation at said restaurant. A man who had the entire world in the palm of his hands with bestselling cookbooks and a top-rated cooking show.
Sweat started beading along my hairline and neck from the humidity and heat as I trekked on. I wish I’d thought of pulling my long, thick hair up into a ponytail before hightailing it out of the car. It was likely going to be a frizzy mess by the time I made it to the hotel’s reservations desk. I didn’t want to think about the small amount of makeup I wore. A drowned rat was going to look like a supermodel compared to me.
I apologized when my suitcase tripped up a few people as I hurried past them. Registration for the teachers’ conference began two hours ago and would close in thirty minutes. Traffic had been an issue, and that was after my flight was delayed. Before all that, my best friend, Franny, caught a nasty stomach bug last night. I spent most of the evening by her bedside, almost sleeping through my alarm in the process.
Now, as I approached the main entrance of the hotel, I was irritable, frustrated, and embarrassed. The valets eyed me warily as I lugged my suitcase through the rotating doors with a huff. My free hand pushed my hair back from my face, and as I glanced at a mirror across from me, I winced at the nest I was sporting at the top of my head.
“Great,” I mumbled as I took in the lobby, trying to find a sign that would point me in the right direction. I needed to check in for the conference before I did the same for the hotel, since time was of the essence. Luckily, I found the sign easily enough and made my way in that direction, noting how outdated the lobby appeared.
The marble columns were a garish pink marble with bronze accents. And mirrors hung on every available erect surface. It reminded me of something I’d seen in a movie from the ‘80s, and I couldn’t help but wonder when the place had been renovated last.
Down the carpeted hall toward the room designated for the teachers’ conference registration I scurried, and then I grabbed my name badge and packet after receiving a snarling onceover by the woman in charge. I wasn’t sure what her deal was, but I pretended like I didn’t care. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the best liar. My expressions always gave me away, and I was so far out of my element in this big city that I was afraid everyone could tell.
But I reminded myselftheyhad invitedmeto the conference based on some of my research and professional essays, and that gave me the confidence to continue the task at hand.
Dragging my suitcase behind me, I made my way back toward the main lobby to check in and relax before the ice-breaker session that evening. Reading over my laminated badge, noting they spelled my first name wrong, I turned the corner that would lead me to the desk, only to find myself whipped around in the direction I’d come from. Losing the grip on my suitcase, I fell flat on the floor, my arms and legs sprawled out on either side of my body. I somehow kept my head fromknocking against the marble floor and giving myself one hell of a headache.
“What the—?” I cried out as I pushed up onto my elbows at the same time a deep voice growled, “Watch it.”
“Excuse me?” My voice was snide as I got off the floor with very little grace. As I stood, I pushed the heavy mass of waves away from my face and narrowed my gaze at the heavily bearded man holding an ancient flip phone to his ear. His hair was almost as long and scraggly as his beard, and his attire of ripped shorts and a threadbare shirt made him appear like a man who hadn’t showered or changed his clothes in months. I’d think he was exactly that… if I hadn’t caught a whiff of the most intoxicating scent coming from his direction.
Too bad he was a grade-A dick and was already poised to scurry away as ifI’dbeen the inconvenience.
“I mean, would it hurt you to at leasttryto help me?” I asked as I reached for my suitcase now lying flat on the floor. Just as I reached for the extendable handle, it popped off in my hand with a snap. “Are you kidding me?”
“Look, I don’t have time for this,” the man said, his steely gray-blue eyes focused on me.
“Seriously?Youdon’t have time for this? Well,Idon’t have time for this either. The least you could do is make sure I’m not hurt from the way you rammed into me.”
“Are you done?” he growled, and when I didn’t respond, he continued whatever conversation he was having on the phone and stomped his way down the hall.
“Hey! Wait! Hey!” I shouted, but he didn’t even bother turning back around. “Jackass,” I mumbled as I grabbed the single strap on the top of my suitcase and wheeled it alongside me. I was thankful it had quad wheels.
Luckily, there was no line at the check-in counter, and I knew my day could only get better.
Or so I thought.
Chapter One—Aurora
One year later…
“No cucumbers today?” Mrs. Hensen asked as she steered toward my family booth at the Ashfield farmers market. While Sunny Brook Farms, my family’s livelihood, grew various crops in rotation, the primary source of income was corn.
My great-great-grandmother started a small veggie garden on the farm and began selling them at the local market. My sisters and I carried on the tradition.
