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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