A/N: I originally wrote this story for Camp NanoWriMo July 2011, but I have edited it slightly to post here. This is my first attempt at writing for an audience in a long time, so constructive criticism is definitely welcome. I know it starts out slow, but it should pick up soon. Willow makes her debut a little later, but I promise she will appear soon, so don't worry. :)

Tara received a letter in the mail. It was a thick envelope embossed with the seal of Wellesley College. It was her dream school. It was her top choice. And they were sending her a thick envelope. Years of watching television taught her that thick envelopes meant acceptance letters, but she did not want to get her hopes up before she actually saw the words. She ran to her bedroom and slumped down into her chair, feeling like a one hundred pound weight had landed on her shoulders. Knowing that her entire future was riding on the very thing in her shaky hands, Tara slipped her thumb under the paper flap and tore the envelope open. It contained many crisp white papers, but only one stuck out to her. It began: Ms. Maclay, Congratulations-

She only got as far as the first word in the first paragraph before she released the breath she had held in for so long. Feeling unsteady, she stood up and ran her fingers through her long blonde hair. She placed the envelope, and all of the papers it held, on her desk and clutched the letter of congratulations tightly to her chest. A slow smile spread across her face as she read and reread the letter until she had it almost committed to memory. The smile broke into a wide grin that threatened to crack her face clean in two.

Tara had been waiting for this letter longer than the months it took the school to process her submitted application and decide to accept her. She had been waiting years. She remembered the day she first set foot on Wellesley's campus. She and her family were on a trip to Boston to visit her mother's sister who had just had her first baby.

There were only a few moments that stuck in her mind like that day, and she could replay them all as though they were movies being projected onto the inside front of her skull. She could remember every detail as specific as what the weather was like and what she had eaten for breakfast.

It was the May of her freshman year. For Tara, it was a surprisingly warm day. Sure, it was spring, but being from North Carolina and having only traveled as far north as Richmond, Virginia, she was not expecting Massachusetts to be 70 degrees. Plants were beginning to bloom, and one could easily see why Wellesley is so well known for its greenery. The campus was simply beautiful.

The students represented all walks of life; they were young and old, dark and light, skinny and curvy. Walking around, Tara could hear snippets of conversations that reflected the diversity of the student body. One moment, she'd hear someone discussing the upcoming midterm elections, and the next moment she'd hear someone else talking about the Tegan and Sara concert they were planning to go to that night. Tara immediately felt at home immersed in the culture of the school, and that day, made it her goal to enroll as a student some day.

She knew she belonged there, and that only spurred her on in her academics. She had never been a slacker, but after her visit to the college, she dived into her school work with the gusto of a woman on a mission. She realized her family could never afford to send her to a private school, but that didn't stop her from working. She knew when she first applied to Wellesley she would not only have to meet the requirements for admission, she had to exceed them in order to get enough scholarship money to pay for most if not all of her college necessities.

The week immediately prior to receiving her acceptance letter, she was awarded a scholarship from her employers. The scholarship covered half tuition and room and board for eight semesters, and Wellesley was offering her a grant that would pay for the rest. She planned to find a job in Massachusetts to help with her other expenses. At least that was one thing she had covered already.

Tara decided she needed to share her good news with her family. She had not told them that she had applied to Wellesley for fear that they would not support her decision to attend a college on the other side of the country, but now that she had been accepted, she wanted to tell everyone!

Still clutching the letter, Tara ran out of her room and into the hallway that led to the kitchen where she found her mother stirring a pot on the stove and her brother at the sink washing vegetables. She looked through the door that separated the kitchen from the living room to her father sat in his favorite chair watching Jeopardy. Any other day Tara would be sprawled on the sofa next to her father's La-Z-Boy watching Jeopardy and competing with him to see who could get the most answers right the quickest. They had been watching the show together for as long as she could remember.

"Hey, sweetheart," Mr. Maclay sat up from his chair, "Why aren't you in here with me tonight?"

Instead of answering, Tara simply walked over to him, laid her hand on his shoulder, and handed him the letter. Mr. Maclay took the paper with a questioning look in Tara's direction. Tara did not say a word but nodded to let him know that she wanted him to read it.

Glancing down at the paper, the first thing that caught Mr. Maclay's attention was the large blue "W" at the top. At that moment, he knew what the letter meant but continued to read as if it were a completely new development. Mr. Maclay was more aware of the goings on in his house than he let on. He had known his daughter was interested in the New England school, and he had no doubt she would apply and be accepted. His daughter was one of the most intelligent people he had ever known, and she had always had high aspirations. Mr. Maclay read the letter looked up at Tara with a wide grin not unlike the one that had been plastered on her face since she had entered the room.

Mr. Maclay stood up and wrapped his large arms around Tara's smaller body.

"Congratulations, Tare!"

"Thanks, Dad," Tara said with a beaming smile.

"I always knew you would do great things," Her father's grin had morphed into a warm smile, but he puffed out his chest proudly as he continued, "How could you not be great? You're a Maclay. It's in your blood!"

Tara's smile grew even wider.

"Have you told your mother and brother?"

Tara shook her head.

"I wanted to tell you first. I was going to tell them at dinner."

"Well, if my nose is correct, and it usually is, dinner is almost ready now. Let's head in."

Tara giggled at the nose comment.

"Daddy, you could smell good food being cooked five miles down the road," A sly look crossed Tara's features as she pulled away slightly to get a better look at him, "You remember that time at Christmas?"

Tara felt her father's tanned skin grow hot indicating a blush beginning to spread throughout his cheeks.

Three years ago, Tara and all of her extended family on her father's side had gathered at her grandmother's house in Georgia for Christmas dinner. The children, just about everyone under the age of 20, were in the basement trying to escape the adults like they did every year. This was the first year Donnie, her brother, was allowed to go down to the basement with them because he had finally turned 10 and deemed old enough to be one of the 'big kids'. Tara kept had to keep a close eye on him in the corner of her eye.

Because all of the others were so much older than him, Donnie felt lonely and excluded, so he asked Tara to walk with him upstairs to find their mother. Tara agreed because she knew that it wasn't safe for the boy to walk up the old slippery stairs by himself. She grabbed Donnie's hand and told her cousins she'd return soon before beginning the climb upstairs.

Once Donnie had reached the top of the stairs and had his mother in sight, he dropped Tara's hand and started to run towards her.

At this point, things started to get sticky.

The way her grandmother's house was set up was an accident waiting to happen for the Maclays. When you walked into the front door, the living room was immediately to the left, the kitchen was straight ahead, and a hall was to the right that held doors to the basement and all the bedrooms.

As Donnie made his way towards his mother, his grandmother stepped out of the kitchen holding one of her famous apple pies and opened her mouth as though she were prepared to speak. Donnie and his grandmother nearly collided, but they managed to sidestep each other. At the very same time, the front door swung open revealing Mr. Maclay who was barreling towards the kitchen, obviously without paying attention to where he was going.

Donnie would have been run over by his father if Tara had not reached out and grabbed him in the nick of time, quicker than any fifteen year old should have. Mr. Maclay, though unable to stop himself soon enough, shared a thought with everyone else in the room.

"Oh shit."

It all played in front of Tara in slow motion. Mr. Maclay ran straight into his mother, Tara's grandmother, covering them both in cranberry sauce. The room that had previously been buzzing with conversation and bustling with aunts, uncles, and other visitors was now silent with shock.

"Christopher Alan Maclay II, what have I told you about running in the house," Tara's grandmother scolded her son.

"But you haven't made cranberry sauce in years." Mr. Maclay ducked his head in shame and in that moment, he could have easily been mistaken for his own son.

"And this is precisely the reason why," Grandma Maclay said turning slightly red in the face, "This happened the last time too."

The image of a 30 year old man being berated by his mother, both covered in cranberry sauce was too much for everyone. The room was bubbled with laughter. As the family sat down at dinner, Tara's uncles revealed that they had been playing touch football at the lot across the street when he suddenly stopped in the middle of a pass and began sprinting towards the house. They were worried that he had seen or heard something strange in the house, but soon realized it was just their brother's super nose at work again just like it had when they were kids.

"Let's not bring that up again, Tara," Mr. Maclay's voice was stern, but Tara could see the mirth in his eyes.

"Bring what up again," Mrs. Maclay had heard them as they entered the kitchen.

"Not a thing," Tara responded with a wink in her father's direction. Mrs. Maclay playfully rolled her eyes but dropped the subject.

"Wash up. It's time to eat."