The envelopes on the dining room table were mocking her. She had saved all of them to open at the same time. Her mother had teased her about it as Kate worried about getting in anywhere.
"Kate, just open the biggest one," Johanna had insisted once it came in the mail. "The bigger ones always mean acceptance."
She had refused, sitting back on the couch and opening up her copy of King Lear to finish her Advance Placement Literature homework. "Once they all come in, Mom."
Johanna had exchanged glances with Jim, ones that sent him the message that if their daughter didn't open one of those letters soon, Johanna would do it for her. She was tired of hearing Kate go from complaining about not knowing if anyone wanted her in the fall to being completely nonchalant about the entire process. They had flown and drove and taken trains all across the country, touring every college that Kate had written up on the back of a scraped brief of Johanna's. They had run the gamut, from mid-level schools to Ivys. And she had applied to all of them; money for the application fees not an issue for the family.
Top of the list was Harvard. She had fallen in love with the architecture of the Massachusetts school, could picture herself lounging on the grass between weathered brick buildings during the fall and spring, then bundling up for the walk to classes in the snow. Sure, Cambridge often got way more snow than New York did, but she could get over that little detail in order to get in.
So the day the envelope with the Harvard seal in the corner arrived, the last of the letters to come in, the family had gathered around that stack on the dining room table. Kate was on one side, Johanna and Jim on the other, their clasped hands hidden under the table.
"Which one do I open first?" she asked, her eyes turning up from the pile to fix on her mother's.
Jim nudged the Harvard one toward his daughter. "Go with first choice."
She slid her finger under the sealed flap on the back, hesitating as she opened it. Then, in a typical Johanna Beckett move, she closed her eyes, gave her head a little shake, and pulled the papers out. Unfolding the few sheets of creamy paper, Kate read the first lines.
Without a word, she shoved the papers at her parents and pushed away from the table. "Figures…" she muttered, walking toward her bedroom.
Jim picked up the discarded letter, placing it between his wife and him so they could read together.
Miss Katherine Beckett,
The admissions office of Harvard University is sorry to inform you that we were not able to admit you to Harvard this year.
As Jim pulled a hand through his hair, Johanna scooped up the letter from Stanford. "I'll talk to her."
Her door was closed which meant she wanted to be alone. For the first time since establishing that little rule, Johanna ignored it. Kate was curled up at her headboard, her pillows clutched to her chest as she hid her face in them.
"Sweetie, it's okay," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing her hand over Kate's upper arm.
Kate shook her head, her voice muffled by the pillows. "It's not."
Johanna tugged the pillows away from her daughter's face, revealing the faintest of blood-shot eyes and the evidence of tears. "Yes, it is. Look, sometimes things don't come easily, especially things that we want really badly."
"I wanted Harvard, Mom." Her voice was shaky even as she reached up to wipe at her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "More than anything."
"I know that. But that's not going to happen this time around. Here." She poked Kate's arm with the corner of the envelope. "Try this one." When her daughter turned her eyes up in doubt, Johanna just repeated the motion. "I have a good feeling about it."
Kate didn't want to open another letter. The sting of rejection cut deep on someone who really hadn't failed at anything. Successful at everything except getting to the one place she dreamed about. But her mother was sitting there, watching and waiting, so Kate sighed and started at the envelope, more reckless than she had been with the Harvard one.
Johanna sensed her husband leaning on the doorframe of the room, just watching, the quiet presence of the family. But she kept her eyes on Kate's face as she read the Stanford letter.
Slowly, Kate smiled, holding the letter in one hand as she swiped at old tears. "California will be warmer than New York."
"And Cambridge," added Johanna, placing her hand over Kate's. "You'll love Stanford, Katie."
"Plus, Stanford has a nicer shade of red in their school colors," chimed in Jim from the doorway. "And with it being on the opposite coast, I'll finally convince your mother to take time off from work to come visit you."
Kate grinned at her father before tossing the pillows aside and jumping into her mother's embrace. "Thanks, Mom, for making me open them."
"Anytime, Katie." Johanna tugged at her daughter's hand. "Come on, let's go open the rest and see which ones have the funniest admission counselor names."