Her mother scanned the living room and adjacent kitchen in a moment, then set her purse on the beige vinyl counter, which hung over three brown barstools Cora had found at a garage sale.
“I’m happy for you.”
“But…?” She wanted a glass of water, but her mom was in the way.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but sounded like Cora should be. “We just don’t like to see you waste your money. And your father’s hurt that you didn’t include him in your decision.”
“With my financial aid, this is within my budget. And it’s just until I move to Seattle. I’m being careful.”
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