The Underwriting by Michelle Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

you.”
    â€œThanks, T.”
    â€œNow get to work.” He came around the cube and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m already late to SoulCycle.”
    Tara watched him leave, followed shortly by the rest of the floor clearing out for the evening. She turned back to her computer, her workday just beginning, but not at all upset by that fact.
    KELLY
    W EDNESDAY , M ARCH 5–T HURSDAY , M ARCH 6; P ALO A LTO , C ALIFORNIA
    Kelly hung up the phone and looked at the two letters on her dorm room desk one last time: the first, an offer letter from L.Cecil investment bank; the other, an offer letter from Google.
    The L.Cecil letter was beige with an embossed, traditional font. It felt heavy and important. The Google letter was bright white with the company’s multicolored logo across the top. It had been hand-signed by the recruiting manager, who inserted a smiley face next to his note. It was playful and not at all intimidating.
    â€œOkay,” she said, picking up a pen. “Moment of truth.”
    Kelly bit her lip, taking a minute to observe the significance of the fact that she was even here, in this dorm room on Stanford’s campus, making this decision. She’d grown up in the not-cool part of Brooklyn, the accidental (but well-loved) second child of a public school teacher mother and an accountant father whose professional promise was tempered by his on-again, off-again alcoholism. Kelly was the product of one stroke of luck after another—the right third-grade teacher who encouraged her to skip a grade; the right seventh-grade teacher who encouraged her to apply to Stuyvesant High School in Manhattan; the right college counselor who told her a school like Stanford wasn’t out of her reach; the right freshman RA who encouraged her to rush Pi Phi, where she met her best friend, Renee, whose Wall Street executive father helped Kelly get last summer’s internship at L.Cecil.
    Yes, Kelly knew, she was so lucky it was almost unfair. Which is why she couldn’t treat the opportunities life had given her lightly.
    She moved the pen to the L.Cecil letter and signed her name.
    Kelly went down the stairs of Xanadu, the old three-story house on Mayfield Avenue that Stanford had converted into a student residence. She took a deep breath before slipping the envelope into the mail slot at the bottom of the stairs.
    â€œWhat’re you mailing?”
    Kelly turned to see Robby Goodman, her RA, coming in through the main door with a case of Bud Light under either arm. Robby was tall and big but in an athletic way, equal parts rugby player and teddy bear. She was glad Robby was the first person she could tell the news to because she knew he’d be happy for her.
    â€œMy offer letter for L.Cecil,” she said. “I just accepted.”
    â€œWhoa, seriously?” Robby’s shoulders dropped. “Does that mean you’re moving to New York?”
    â€œYeah!” Kelly said. “I can’t wait.”
    He was quiet. She indicated the beer in his hands. “Big party tonight?”
    â€œYeah,” he said. “The new rugby recruits are in. We’re going to get schmammered. Actually, there’s an after-party at Theta Delt if you want to come? I’ll be blacked out, but it should be fun.”
    â€œI’m going to this concert at Shoreline, but maybe we’ll swing by when we’re back?” she offered, knowing Renee wouldn’t be caught dead at a rugby party at Theta Delt.
    â€œCool,” he said, but didn’t make any effort to move, like there was something else. “Hey, do you—”
    The sound of a Skype ring interrupted him and Kelly looked at her watch. “Oh crap—that’s my brother”—she ran up the stairs to catch the call—“Have fun tonight!”
    She got to her room just in time to open the laptop and see Charlie’s face on the screen. Charlie was eleven years older and an