Father Knows Best by Lynda Sandoval

talk about it?”
    For some unfathomable reason, I opened my mouth and started unburdening myself in a manic babble. Yes, to Chloe.
    “No one is hiring,” I said, in a boogery, watery tone. “At least, not anymore. I’ve been searching nonstop, but everyone’s already hired help for the summer—of course. I have to pay Dad back for the car and…I just—”
    “Come on.” Chloe stood, but didn’t release my hand.
    I peered up at her. “What?”
    “Come into the travel agency.” She angled her head toward the door and tugged at my arm. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee and we have cookies.”
    “I’m not hungry.” I hadn’t had an appetite since I’d learned about Jennifer, frankly, and this ungainfully unemployed status was only making it worse. At this rate, I’d wind up looking like one of those shivering Chihuahua-esque Hollywood starlets by the time school started.
    “So forget the cookies.” She eyed me knowingly. “But I bet you wouldn’t turn down a cup of coffee.”
    True. I’d wanted to buy one at Mountain Lion, but I felt guilty for spending the money, so I’d piously restrained myself. “Okay. Coffee sounds good.”
    As we walked toward the front door of High Country Travel, which Chloe managed, some blurty, reckless part of me wanted to ask her if Dylan and Jennifer had ever had sex. But then again, how would she know? I guarantee, if I were having sex, which I am not, my father wouldn’t have clue number one—I’d make darn sure of that.
    But maybe Chloe had women’s intuition…?
    No. Total party foul to front my boyfriend like that, especially to his mother. Even if he had gotten his ex-girlfriend pregnant. Emphasis on if. “I’m sorry to interrupt your workday,” I said instead.
    “You’re not interrupting. We’re always a bit slow at this time of day, for some reason.” She pulled open the door and stood aside to let me enter first.
    As businesses go, it wasn’t huge. Then again, none of the businesses along Main Street were, because the buildings were historic and protected. But they had character. High Country Travel was light, bright, and inviting. Huge destination posters adorned the walls, places like Budapest and Hong Kong, Paris and Nepal. Four desks occupied the main room, each with its own computer, and cabinets ran all along the exposed brick wall in the back, with machines on the countertops, like faxes, copiers, scanners, and such.
    They might be in a slow period, but the place gave off a good, busy vibe. A couple of other women bustled around carrying papers or packages, and the one male travel agent was on the phone waving his hand around as he spoke a foreign language I couldn’t discern. I bet Meryl would know what it was.
    I took a deep breath and let my shoulders fall on the exhale. “It’s nice in here.”
    “Thanks,” Chloe said. She gestured to a chair in front of the largest desk that sat near the front window. “Have a seat. I’ll get you that coffee.”
    I did so. While she was gone, I spied brochures for New York City in a rack up front, under the big windows. I scurried over and took one. Maybe they’d have pictures of Tribeca, or at least a paragraph about it. I was leafing through it when Chloe returned with two steaming mugs.
    I twisted my mouth shyly, holding up the brochure. “I’m totally missing Caressa.”
    “I bet you are. Have you ever been to New York City?”
    “No. But I’d love to go. I wish I could see Caressa’s show, you know?”
    She arched her eyebrows thoughtfully. “That would be an experience to remember. Feel free to keep the brochure.”
    “Thanks.”
    She sat with her elbows propped on her desk blotter, studying me for a sec like she had something else to say.
    I gulped. Did she know about Jennifer?
    “Lila, do you know what a go-fer is?”
    Uh, okay, hadn’t expected that out-there question. A gopher? How stupid did she think I was? I tried not to sound sarcastic or indignant when I answered. “Well,