What I tried
to hide was my grin. Until that first booksigning where people were lined up halfway
around the block, it never really registered that my parents with twenty books to
their names were indeed popular writers. People paid good money and waited eagerly
for first editions in hardback.
"I can't
believe I never made the connection." Sylvia tipped her head to one side, letting
her hair fall in her face. "I mean, yeah, they're the weird, hippie Zephyrs,
but they're famous. They've got about a gazillion books that people buy.
You are rich."
Uh huh. So
that was her problem. Nobody in town was allowed to be rich other than the Grandstones.
"How
did you con them into adopting you? Like, you're gonna be rich when they kick off.
Both of them are so old. You have got to tell me how you did it."
Why? So she
could con someone into adopting her?
"I didn't
do anything. I was only six when they adopted me." I barely managed to hold
back "remember?" because of course, the only time Sylvia paid attention
to me back in school was when I stood between her and what she wanted. "Right
place, right time, right people, I guess." I couldn't really say my parents
were warm, loving people who were looking to share their love. Sylvia would not
understand at all.
"Some
people get all the luck." She straightened up and shook her head, with that
calculated, slow kind of movement that I swear she had to practice in the mirror.
How else could she get her curls to respond like that and lay just so on her shoulders?
"You're rich. Who would have thought it? I mean, you don't act it."
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