Page 40 of The Second Chance Year

“You’re looking at the new CTO of AstRoBot,” Owen announces.

My mom gasps. “Oh, Owen, that’s wonderful!”

“Well done, son!” My dad claps Owen on the back.

Jacob grins at him. “Nice work.”

“This calls for champagne!” My mom waves her arms to flag down the server like she’s lost at sea. “My son just got a huge promotion,” my mom hollers at the server, and at everyone else within a mile of our table. “We’ll need some bubbly over here.”

“Congratulations, Owen,” I murmur. I love my brother, and it’s not that I begrudge him this attention. It’s that just once, I’d love for my parents to fawn over me this way. Watching them treat Owen’s promotion like it’s the Nobel Prize, when they didn’t even come to my culinary school graduation, is a kick in the gut.

Once the champagne is poured, my brother launches into an explanation of the challenges of applying computer vision to moving objects. My dad wouldn’t understand a word unless it was recited in ancient Greek, but he’s on the edge of his seat. After a while, though, my mom’s eyes start to glaze over, so she turns to me and Jacob.

“Fran,” Jacob says. “Did Sadie tell you she’s the new pastry chef at a café in Williamsburg? There’s a line out the door inthe mornings, and you have to show up before noon or everything will be gone.”

“No, she didn’t tell me.”

Jacob grins at me. “Her pastries are amazing. Café business must have doubled since Sadie took over.”

I flash him a grateful smile.

My mom looks back and forth between me and Jacob. “What happened to Xavier’s?”

I shrug. “I’m still at Xavier’s. This is a side gig, on my days off.”

“What’s this about Sadie having a second job?” my dad cuts in, finally giving up on whatever computer-y things Owen was talking about.

Jacob repeats what he told my mom.

“Huh,” my dad says, exchanging a glance with my mom that I can’t quite interpret. “And you’re making a solid income there?”

I shrug. “I do okay.” Zoe can’t afford to pay much, but I enjoy hanging out at Higher Grounds and trying new recipes. And it’s all going into my Someday Bakery fund, so I don’t really mind. “Why?”

“I’m wondering if you could consider leaving Xavier’s.”

I study my dad’s face. Where is he going with this? Why would he encourage me to leave a stable job to work for myself? I’ve been talking about opening my own bakery for the past twenty years; is it possible that my parents were really listening? That they might actually be ready to support this dream? “Oh, I’m not sure I’m quite there yet.” I give my parents a smile. “But hopefully someday.”

“Well, play with the numbers,” my dad says. “If this café job is flexible and could cover your rent, this might be an excellenttime to think about going back to school. Your mom and I would be willing to help you out with other expenses, and Brooklyn College is actually very affordable.”

I stare at them, speechless. I can’t believe we’re talking about this. After I was fired during my Very Bad Year, my parents kept pushing me to enroll in college classes. And, okay, I hated it, but I kind of understood. I was homeless and living at Jacob’s at the time. I’d told myself that my parents were just looking out for me, encouraging me to have a backup plan.But I have a good job in my field.Why would they be pushing this unless they truly don’t respect my work at all? It shouldn’t surprise me, but somehow it always does.

“What are you talking about?” I manage to sputter. “What would I even study at Brooklyn College?”

“There are all sorts of options.” My mom gives me an encouraging smile. “With your outgoing personality, you’d be great at teaching. Or something in sales and marketing, maybe.”

I stare down at the table, shaking my head. How long have they been waiting for an opportunity to spring this on me? When my dad texted me about Brooklyn College during my Very Bad Year, he’d said,This is all for the best.Maybe my parents were secretly glad I’d lost my job because it gave them leverage to push me back to school.

“You could check out the catalog,” my dad chimes in. “See what interests you.”

“Unless the catalog is from Williams Sonoma, I doubt anything will interest me.”

“Well, talk it through with Alex. See what he thinks.”

My head snaps up as resentment rolls over me. “Who cares what Alex thinks?”

My dad sits back in his chair. “I assume you and Alex talk about major life decisions with each other.”

“I’m not going to Brooklyn College. Or any college. There.” I wave my hand in the air. “Major life decision decided. And I’m not going to talk it over with Alex because Alex and I broke up.” It’s a stupid move to blurt it out without thinking, but I get a perverse satisfaction from seeing the shock on my parents’ faces. Across the table, Jacob sits up straighter in his chair.

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