The Mason Dixon Line (A Horizons Novel) by Linda Morris Page B

at the family business.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her
cardigan.
    “Which was?”
    “A chain of car dealerships.” She wrinkled
her nose. “It’s not for me.”
    “Car dealerships? In Indy? Wait, Hart
Toyota?”
    “That’s the one,” she said, heart sinking.
She knew what was coming.
    Mason’s eyes lit. “Your dad’s the one with
those crazy commercials where he dresses up like a hobo? With the beaten-up old
coat and smudges of dirt on his face? What’s he say again?”
    “‘Have a heart! Buy from Hart, ’cause old
Pete needs the money.’“ She winced. Those commercials had been the bane of her
existence as a teenager. Mason, on the other hand, looked fascinated.
    “That is awesome.”
    “Oh, please .
You have no idea how much crap I took from the other kids in high school about
those. He had a lot of fun with it, though. He wanted me to come work for the
family business when I dropped out of college for good, but I couldn’t imagine
anything I’d less rather do.”
    “Me neither, unless it was teaching.”
    She made a face. “Oh, what? Grinding the
souls of young children under your heel doesn’t strike you as exciting?”
    “Right. I was unbelievably glad to get out
of school. The last thing I’d ever do is go back.”
    “Counting the days until graduation, were
you?”
    “Hardly. I dropped out when I was sixteen.”
    Carolyn stopped in her tracks. “You don’t
have your diploma?”
    “Yeah, I do, but only thanks to my aunt. I
got in trouble all the time and quit school. My parents gave up on me at that
point and sent me to live with my aunt. She’d inherited a lot of money from her
late husband. I guess they thought money would fix me somehow.” A dry laugh
escaped him, but his eyes were flat. “Who am I kidding? They didn’t think that
far ahead. They were tired of trying to solve a problem they couldn’t fix, so
they decided to let someone else worry about it for a while. Whether or not my
aunt could actually do anything with me was the last thing on their minds.”
    “That’s rough.” She leaned on her parents
too much for a woman her age, she knew that, but partly it was because they’d
always been there. Rock-solid and dependable, not to mention hyper-involved and
a little overbearing. Still, they cared. She couldn’t imagine growing up
without that security. “Do you still keep in touch with them?”
    “No. Last I heard, they’d bought a van and
were driving across the Trans-Canada Highway. Good riddance. As far as I’m
concerned, my Aunt Marjorie is the only family I’ve got.”
    A harsh attitude, but she couldn’t fault
him for it. His parents had abandoned their teenage kid. He was entitled to a
few hard feelings.
    “You said you got a diploma thanks to her?”
    “She worked with me, found a way of working
around my disabilities. She hired a tutor for the stuff she couldn’t handle. Reading
was easier when someone took the trouble to find books I liked. She tied
everything back to drawing somehow, even math. Passing the GED was no trouble
after she’d worked with me a couple of years.”
    “That hyperfocus again.” People with ADHD could
focus intently when they worked on something that interested them, the way
drawing preoccupied Mason. “At Horizons, we tailor the program to the student.
We’re flexible.”
    “I’m sure you try to be flexible.” He still sounded unconvinced. “You’re an
advocate for the school, no doubt. Maybe you’ve found what you were destined to
do after all.”
    “I doubt that. I can’t support myself on an
aide’s salary, or even a teacher’s salary, probably. Champagne tastes on a beer
budget, as they say.”
    “There’s more to life than money.”
    “Tell that to my Visa bill.”
    He laughed. They’d reached the top of the
ridge now. The bare trees afforded a clear view of the stream below, twisting
and turning through its rocky path. The forest was all brown and gray at this
time of the year: bare