My Fiancé Stole My University Acceptance Letter novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Cut Seal

Ciara takes the opened letter out of Brendan's briefcase, walks out on both families, and gets a lease notice taped to her father's shop.

I didn't sit down.

I bent, took the envelope out of Brendan's briefcase, and held it against my chest before he could close the flap.

"That's private mail," Brendan said.

"It has my name on it."

"It has a printed label on it," he said. "It came to the Sutcliffe building by mistake, and I was going to hand it to you today."

"The seal is cut."

"Someone at the mailroom opened it. That happens."

His voice stayed level.

I had listened to that voice explain things to me for sixty years, and I knew exactly how it sounded when it was lying.

I pulled out the letter and read it standing in the middle of my mother's carpet.

Dear Ms. Keogh, we are pleased to offer you a place in the Bachelor of Architecture class entering in August.

Please confirm your seat by noon on Friday, May 15.

My eyes went to the date at the top.

April 28.

It had been fourteen days.

"You were going to hand it to me today," I said. "In the same visit where you set a date for the wedding."

My mother's hand came off my knee.

"Ciara, you applied to a university?"

"In January."

"And you didn't tell us?"

"I knew what you'd say."

"Architecture," my father said. "Who would mind the shop, Ciara? You're the only one who knows where anything is."

"That's what you're worried about?" I asked.

"I'm worried that you're making a scene in front of Mrs. Sutcliffe."

Harriet had not moved.

She let the silence run, and then she spoke to my father and not to me.

"Mr. Keogh, your lease comes up for renewal on the first of June."

My father's face changed.

"Harriet, I'm sure Ciara only needs a minute."

"I'm sure she does."

Brendan stood and buttoned his jacket.

"She's twenty, and she's frightened," he said to the room, gently. "A girl that age grabs at an idea. She'll feel differently when she's had a night to think. We'll see you all at the club tomorrow evening, as planned."

He held out his hand for the letter.

His fingers were clean and pale, and they did not shake.

I folded the letter once and put it in my back pocket.

"No," I said again.

"Ciara," my father said.

"You can tell me I'm wrong," I said. "You can tell me I'm ungrateful. But a school sent me a letter two weeks ago, and it was sitting in his briefcase today."

I turned to Lena by the door.

"Did this come through your counter?"

Lena put a hand against her scarf.

It was the green silk one her aunt had sent her from Dayton, and she had worn it every day for a year.

"The Westmere one? Oh, Ciara, if it had, I'd have walked it up to you myself. You know I would. I bring you everything."

"I know you do."

"It must have been sorted wrong. Brendan wouldn't keep something from you." She looked at him and then at me. "Would you?"

Brendan gave her a small, sad smile.

"Of course not."

It was a smooth answer, and it came too fast.

I looked from his face to hers.

Then my mother began to cry, which she did at every disagreement in our house, and the room went loud.

My father was telling me to be reasonable.

Harriet was telling my mother to see to me.

Brendan was telling everyone that nobody was angry.

I went out through the hall and took my coat off the hook.

"If you walk out that door," my father said behind me, "don't expect us to fix it for you."

I stopped with my hand on the knob.

"I'm not asking anyone to fix it," I said.

The air on the porch was cold and clean.

I got as far as the sidewalk before the door opened again and Lena came running with her bag banging on her hip.

"Ciara, wait."

She caught my sleeve.

"Come stay with me. My place is over the dry cleaner's, you know that. I've got the pull-out. You don't have to say anything to anybody tonight."

"Your mother won't mind?"

"She loves you." Lena's eyes were wet. "I hate this. I hate that they did that to you. Come on."

I let her put her arm through mine.

I should have felt safe.

All I could think about was how fast Brendan had said "of course not."

The pull-out was lumpy, and Lena brought me tea and a blanket and sat on the floor beside me talking about nothing until I stopped shaking.

At nine, she turned off the lamp.

I lay there in the dark with the letter under my pillow and my hand flat on top of it.

My phone buzzed.

It was a photo from my father, no words.

It showed the glass door of Keogh Hardware under the streetlight.

Taped across it was a white sheet of paper with the Sutcliffe crest at the top.

NOTICE TO VACATE.

Thirty days.

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