Sugar Daddy (Travis Family #1)(43)

Are you ready for a rewarding and people-oriented job in the skies'? Travel, learn, expand your horizons as a flight attendant for TexWest, the fastest-growing commuter airline service in the nation. Must be willing to locate to our domiciles in CA, UT, NM, AZ, TX. High school diploma required, height requirement of 5'0" to 5'8", no exceptions. Come to our open house and discover more about the exciting possibilities at TexWest.

I have always hated flying. The idea of it is an affront to nature. People are meant to stay on the ground.

I put down the classifieds and glanced at Carrington, who was sitting in her high chair and feeding long strands of spaghetti into her mouth. Most of her hair was fastened into a sprig of hair at the top of her head and clipped with a big red bow. She was dressed in her

diapers and nothing else. We had discovered that cleanup after dinner was a lot easier if she ate topless.

Carrington regarded me solemnly, with a big orange smear of spaghetti sauce across her mouth and chin.

"How would you like to relocate to Oregon?" I asked her.

Her small round face split into a grin, displaying a set of widely spaced white teeth. "Okeydokey."

It was her latest favorite phrase, the other being "No way."

"You could stay in day care." I continued, "while I go up in a plane and serve little bottles of Jack Daniel's to cranky businessmen. How does that sound?"

"Okeydokey."

I watched Carrington meticulously pick out a shred of cooked carrot that I had sneaked into her spaghetti sauce. After divesting the strand of pasta of as much nutritional value as possible, she put the end in her mouth and sucked it up.

"Quit picking off those vegetables," I told her, "or I'll make you some broccoli."

"No way," she said, her mouth full of spaghetti, and I laughed.

I pored over the notes I had made on the jobs available to a girl with a high school diploma and no work experience. So far it seemed I was qualified to be a Quick-Stop cashier, a sanitation pump driver, a nanny, a cleaning lady for Happy Helpers, or a cat groomer at a pet clinic. They all paid about what I had expected, which was next to nothing.

The job I wanted least was to be a nanny, because it meant I would be taking care of someone else's kids instead of Carrington.

I sat there with my limited options spread around me in the form of newspaper pages. I felt small and powerless, and I didn't want to get used to that feeling. I needed a job I was going to keep for a while. It wouldn't be good for me or Carrington if I hopped from place to place. And I suspected there wasn't going to be much rising through the ranks at a Quick-Stop store.

Seeing that Carrington was depositing her carrot bits onto the newspaper in front of her, I muttered, "Quit doing that, Carrington." I pulled the paper away and began to crumple it up, and stopped as I saw the orange-speckled ad on the side.

A new career in under a year!

A well-trained beauty technician is always in demand, in good times or bad. Every day millions of people go to their favorite stylists for cuts, coloring, chemical treatments, and other necessary cosmetic services. The knowledge and abilities you acquire at East Houston Academy of Cosmetology will prepare you for a successful career in any aspect of the beauty business you choose. Apply for a place at EHAC, and let your future begin. Financial aid available to those who qualify.

You often hear the word "job" in a trailer park. At Bluebonnet Ranch, people were

always losing jobs, hunting for jobs, avoiding jobs, nagging someone else to get jobs. But no one I knew had ever had a career.

I wanted a cosmetology license so badly I could hardly stand it. There were so many places I could work at, so much I wanted to learn. I thought I had the right temperament to be a hairstylist, and I knew I had the drive. I had everything but money.

There was no point in applying. But I watched my hands as if they belonged to someone else, wiping off the carrots and ripping out the ad.

The director of the academy, Mrs. Maria Vasquez, sat behind a kidney-shaped oak desk in a room with pale aqua walls. Metallic-framed photos of beautiful women were hung at measured intervals. The smell of the studio and workshop rooms drifted into the administrative area, a mixture of hair spray and shampoo, and the tang of penning chemicals. A beauty shop smell. I loved it.

I concealed my surprise at the discovery that the director was Hispanic. She was a slim woman with highlighted hair and angular shoulders, and a stern, strong-boned face.

She explained that the academy had accepted my application, but they had only so many students they could provide with financial aid each semester. If I couldn't afford to attend the school without a scholarship, then did I want to go on a waiting list and reapply next year?

"Yes, ma'am," I said, my face gone stiff with disappointment, my smile a thin fracture. I gave myself an instant lecture. A waiting list wasn't the end of the world. It wasn't as if I didn't have a lot to do in the meantime.

Mrs. Vasquez's eyes were kind. She said she would call me when it was time to fill out a new application, and she hoped to see me again.

On the way back to Bluebonnet Ranch, I tried to envision myself in a green Happy Helpers shirt. Not so bad, I told myself Organizing and cleaning other people's houses was always easier than cleaning your own. I would do my best. I would be the hardest-working Happy Helper on the planet.

While I was talking to myself, I didn't pay attention to where I was going. My mind was so busy, I had taken the long way instead of the shortcut. I was on the road that passed the cemetery. My car slowed and turned onto the cemetery drive, heading past the cemetery office. I parked and wandered among the headstones, a granite and marble garden that seemed to have sprung from the earth.