Jonathan Kellerman - The Murderer's Daughter

Malcolm said, “We’re feeling great about everything.”

“I am, too. Thank you.”

“Your being happy is all the thanks we need, Grace. We should be thanking you—” He laughed. “Oh, hell, talk about maudlin — hey, let’s everyone go round the table and hold hands and sing ‘Kumbaya’ and thank everyone else, we’ll have a group encounter Thank-a-Thon.”

Grace laughed with him.

Sophie said, “If you don’t mind, we do need to talk about college. The way I see it, there are two options: Stay another full year at Merganfield, which would be a holding pattern, but that’s okay should you choose it, you’re way ahead of the game. Or you could apply for spring acceptance at a college and if you got in, spend only half a year at Merganfield. You’d still be barely sixteen when you started so if that sounds daunting, I — we understand. We just don’t want you getting bored.”

“I could get a job.”

“A job?” said Malcolm. “Let me tell you something, work’s highly overestimated.”

Chuckling and turning to Sophie for appreciation. She was dead serious, fixed on Grace. “What kind of job?”

“I haven’t really thought about it, I’m just offering it as a possibility.”

“Would you prefer to have some time to consider that, dear? Though, frankly, I’m not sure what you could do other than work at a fast-food joint. Not because you’re unqualified. It’s simply the way things are set up in this society.”

“Flipping burgers, hmm,” said Grace. Flashes of restaurant leftovers in a double-wide caused her to sway. “Maybe not. What’s that spring acceptance like?”

“It’s tough to pull off, dear. And it can be difficult socially, because you’d be stepping into an environment where everyone else has had months to get acquainted.”

As if I’m going to socialize any more than you do. Than I do.

Grace said, “Why’s it tough to pull off?”

“Colleges and universities are the most procedure-bound institutions around and they revolve around fall acceptances. Exceptions are made but they’re few and far between.”

Grace said, “There must be empty slots due to people who drop out.”

“There are,” said Malcolm, “but they’re mostly filled with transfers from other universities.”

Sophie said, “Still, as I said, exceptions are made. For people such as yourself.” She licked her lips. “I’m going to level with you, dear: We’ve taken the liberty of inquiring and though it’s not a certainty, it is a possibility. There’s a problem, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Your choices would be limited. There are only two places where Malcolm and I have received positive responses: USC and Harvard.”

“Where you work and where you went to school,” said Grace.

“Go Crimson,” said Malcolm, as if nothing mattered less than attending Harvard. But he read everything Harvard mailed him and wrote occasional checks to various endowments.

Sophie said, “Well, technically, I went to Radcliffe, women weren’t accepted at Harvard, back then, but yes, those are places where we have personal relationships. Princeton might be a possibility but they and Stanford refuse to commit to a level where I’d be comfortable taking the risk. Meaning if we turned down USC and Harvard, we might be left with nothing.”

“USC and Harvard,” said Grace. “There are worse choices to make.”

“You need to understand,” said Malcolm. “If you endured the full year at Merganfield and applied for the fall, you’d likely get in everywhere. The Ivies, Stanford, anywhere you choose. Hell, anyplace stupid enough not to take you doesn’t deserve you.”

Sophie said, “So you’re narrowing your options, considerably.”

I live in a narrow world. Boundaries keep me safe.

Grace said, “I understand. But trust me, this is great, I’m fine with it. Which do you think I should choose?”

Sophie said, “We can’t make that decision, dear. It’s really up to you.”

“All right, then. How about some parameters?” Using a word she’d learned from one of Malcolm’s statistic books. Great word, she used it at Merganfield whenever she could. Even with Sean Miller. Time for some new — ahem — parameters.

“USC,” said Malcolm, “is a fine, fine institution. Harvard is... Harvard.”

He seemed to be struggling. Grace wanted to save him. “Could I apply to both?”

“Sorry, no, they’re both insisting acceptance means commitment.”

“I bear all the risk.”

“Welcome to the world of higher education, Grace.”

Sophie said, “Let’s back up a bit. Give you parameters. We’re talking apples and oranges, on more than an academic level. In one case, you’d stay in L.A., would have the option of dorming in or continuing to live here. In the other you’d be clear across the country and learning to deal with some extremely cold weather.” She smiled. “Though I suppose the opportunity of some nice warm winter clothing isn’t half bad. Think shearling, dear.”

Grace smiled back. “Would I get the same education?”

Malcolm said, “You’d get an excellent education at both places. Anywhere, really, the crucial ingredient is the student, not the college. There are plenty of smart kids at USC but it’s more... heterogeneous. And while there are stupid people at Harvard, you’d be more likely to meet blocs of individuals closer to your level.”

Who cares?

“There’s also,” said Sophie, “and I shudder to say this, the matter of prestige. A Harvard degree is given a lot of weight by employers and such.”

“Far more than deserved,” said Malcolm. “Didn’t know a blessed thing when I graduated. Didn’t prevent consulting firms from wanting to hire me.”

“You remained there for your Ph.D.,” said Grace.

“I did. I’d planned to go to Chicago or Oxford but I met a gorgeous girl from Radcliffe who was also pursuing her Ph.D. at Harvard.” He shrugged. “The rest is domestic history.”

Sophie said, “Romantic twist, he tells everyone that story. The truth is, he’d decided well before meeting me.”

“I dispute that.”

“Darling, you know we’ve been through this. When we moved and I cleaned out the apartment, I saw the correspondence between you and Professor Fiacre.”

“Letters of inquiry,” said Malcolm, “are not letters of intent.”

Sophie waved him silent. Their fingers touched. Talking about their student days, however briefly, had brought a flush to their cheeks.

Maybe Harvard was an interesting place.

Grace said, “How would you feel about my staying in L.A.?”

“Of course, we’d be fine with it,” said Sophie. “Whichever you choose.”

“The same goes for Boston?”

A beat.

Sophie said, “Absolutely. We could visit you.”

“Give us a chance to revisit old haunts,” said Malcolm.

Grace waited.

Sophie understood the silence. “Would we be insulted if you left? Think you ungrateful? Absolutely not. At your age it’s normal to want to attain autonomy.”

“Develop a sense of yourself,” said Malcolm. “Not that you don’t have one, of course. But... it’s a growth process. Your self-image at twenty-five won’t be the same as it is at sixteen.”

“Sixteen,” said Sophie. “I must confess, I keep thinking about that. Not only would you be stepping into an already established social scene, you’d be younger than almost everyone.”

“But she’d also be a helluva lot smarter,” said Malcolm.

“What would I need to do to apply?” said Grace. “In either place.”

Malcolm said, “Fill out a form, send your transcripts and your SAT, sit for an interview with an alumnus.”