probably made off the backs of good, tax paying, working people who
 
 never got ahead.
 
 Taylor realized that she probably wasn’t being fair. Christina might have
 
 been just trying to help. She certainly could have been ruder about it, but in
 
 Taylor’s mind, the woman wasn’t very nice. Taylor remembered Christina’s
 
 tone as mocking, even though her voice was more like champagne— light
 
 and smooth with a few bubbly notes.
 
 Maybe, after a few days, she’d be able to think more clearly about
 
 the meeting. The guilt was already setting in at blaming a complete stranger
 
 for her own failure. Taylor reasoned that when she got over herself, she’d
 
 be able to realize that Christina had just been trying to help in the only way
 
 she possibly could— by offering advice. She hadn’t bothered lying to
 
 Taylor, even though it would have been easier than telling her the hard
 
 facts.
 
 After a few hours of trying to put herself back together, Taylor had
 
 sternly told herself that she was not going to cry about the letdown
 
 anymore. She’d washed her face and walked the few blocks to pick up
 
 Chloe. Unfortunately, after the walk back to their apartment, Taylor found
 
 herself fighting back tears again.
 
 Her already sad, pitiful mood was only made worse when Chloe
 
 dropped her backpack just inside the door and eagerly tugged at the zippers.
 
 She pulled out a crinkled up piece of artwork and handed it to Taylor.
 
 “Look what I made!” she said proudly.
 
 Taylor took the drawing. It was done in crayon and depicted a big stick
 
 person beside a tiny stick person, then two more large stick people, one of
 
 them obviously male. There was a line of fencing behind them and some
 
 stick horses and some stick cows. There was no doubt in her mind that it
 
 was the farm. A big yellow sun hovered above everything and a rainbow
 
 graced the sky. There were no clouds in sight in Chloe’s picture.
 
 “We were supposed to draw the place we loved best out of anywhere in