“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re saving for school at $12 an hour. That’s not a plan, that’s a slow drowning.”
I laughed because if I didn’t, I’d cry into the produce bins.
It was a regular customer, a quiet woman who bought the same yogurt every Tuesday, who told me about the surrogacy agency. She said the compensation could change a life and slid a card across the conveyor belt as if she were passing a key.
My coworker, Marcy, noticed first.I sat on it for two weeks. Then I called.
The Hollisters met me in a glass office overlooking the river. Richard was tall with silver hair, and his wife, Vanessa, wore pearls that looked older than I was. Marriage
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