Read That New York Minute for Free Online Page B

back on the shelf, and reached high for the French press, covered with a film of dust.
    “So, what’s new?” Her mom squirted detergent into the press and began to wash it.
    “I made the partner short list at work.”
    Her mom gave a little squawk. “Hon, that’s fantastic!”
    “I know. Thanks.” Just thinking about it had Rachel grinning. She pushed aside the “I might get fired” aspect as she found some scissors in a drawer and snipped the top off the coffee pack. When she was certain her mom wasn’t watching, she tucked a folded twenty-dollar bill in the back of the drawer.
    By the time they’d carried their cups over to the table by the window, Rachel’s dad had emerged from the bedroom. He hugged Rachel before he pulled out one of the nonmatching chairs and sat. “That coffee for me, Nora?”
    Her mom slid the third mug toward him. While she fussed with cream and sugar, Rachel took the opportunity to stuff another twenty down the gap between the seat pad and the back of the built-in banquette she occupied. Anything more than twenty and her parents would get suspicious.
    Her dad took a sip of the hot coffee and let out a satisfied sigh. “Home is where the coffee is, right, Nora?”
    “That’s right, hon.” Nora blew him a kiss.
    Rachel tensed. Comments like that made her want to chime in with something like, “Home is where you put down roots. Where you decide to stick it out, no matter what.”
    Rachel blew on her coffee so she wouldn’t meet his eyes and feel compelled to disagree. Pointing out their fundamental differences in philosophy only led to circular arguments that, despite being right, she never won.
    “I’m hoping I can pick your brains,” she said, changing the subject. Her family came in very handy when she wanted to run ideas by them or have them try out a new product. It was her mom who’d said, “This is better’n I make, don’t you think, Burton?” the first time she’d tried an Aunt Betty’s apple pie.
    Which had inspired the eventual slogan “As good as Mom makes.” Aunt Betty’s had seen a nice upturn in sales as a result of that particular piece of creativity.
    In the past, Rachel had offered to pay them to be her own private focus group—it would help them financially, and she’d assured them KBC would pick up the tab—but they wouldn’t hear of it.
    “I’m pitching to a group that’s taken over a bunch of private colleges,” she said. “They’ll be rebranding and relaunching them, along with a finance company offering student loans. But we’ll just talk about the academic side today,” she added quickly.
    She’d learned not to discuss anything financial with her parents, however gently couched. I don’t think this email is actually from the president of Nigeria’s largest bank, Dad. Or, A hundred percent interest over three months implies a higher investment risk level than you might want to take.
    Instead, she tried to hide enough twenty-dollar bills that they could afford a few small treats. Hoping it was enough to stave off the need to pursue instant riches.
    “Sure, we can talk about that,” Burton said. “You want to start now?”
    “No hurry. I’ll stay over, if that’s okay.”
    “Great,” her mom said. “When I’ve finished my coffee I’ll wander out to the road—” where the cell phone signal was stronger “—and call LeeAnne. She’ll want to see you.”
    Good thing Rachel had plenty more twenties in her purse. Her younger sister, LeeAnne, was the mother of three-year-old twins. The twins’ father had taken off before they were even born, so LeeAnne depended entirely on her parents for backup. She usually tried to live within a few miles of Nora and Burton. Though as Rachel often pointed out, part-time work that paid a decent wage and allowed her time with the kids was hard enough to find without the added complication of moving so often.
    LeeAnne always agreed, but she still packed up and moved each time.
    “Seen any good