The Offering by Angela Hunt

and Tumelo in the small stockroom, so this should be an ideal time to break the news.
    I pulled my sweater closer and walked into the stockroom, then shivered and nodded good morning.
    â€œMandy.” Mama Isa’s brows lifted as she stepped forward and kissed me on the forehead, the traditional family greeting. “What brings you in so early?”
    â€œI have news.” I looked around the circle, waiting for their undivided attention. Amelia lowered her pricing gun and Mario stopped cutting empty boxes long enough to shoot me a curious look.
    â€œBuenos días.” I smiled and tried to maintain a serene expression. “I have an announcement, and thought it would be easier if I talked to everyone at once.”
    â€œÂ¡Gloria a Dios!” Mama Isa clapped, and one glance at her hope-filled face told me what she expected to hear.
    â€œLo siento.” I gave her a sad smile. “But Gideon and I aren’t having a baby. Not yet, anyway.”
    Amelia caught my wrist. “You’re not quitting work, are you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen what?” Mario ripped a strip of sealing tape from the box he’d been breaking down. “We have customers waiting outside.”
    I lifted my chin and spoke with quiet firmness. “I have decided to volunteer to be a surrogate for a woman who can’t carry a baby on her own. Doing this will help us be able to buy a house one day, and I’ll be able to do something amazing for a childless couple.”
    Mama Isa turned to Amelia. “What is she saying?”
    Amelia shook her head. “Ella quiere ser una madre sustituta.”
    â€œÂ¿Qué?”
    â€œYou don’t want to know, Mama.”
    Tumelo elbowed Jorge. “¿Soy un abuelo? ¿Ella va a tener un bebé?”
    Amelia lifted her chin and ripped open a box of plantain chips. “Not if she has any sense, she isn’t.”
    My cousin grabbed the carton of chips and headed to the front of the store, leaving me to face the others alone.
    â€œWell.” I spread my hands. “I’m still investigating the application process, so this isn’t definite. But I have an agency in mind and everything looks promising. I wanted you to know in case it all works out. I didn’t want you to be surprised if I need to take some time off for tests and things.”
    My heart sank as Tumelo walked away, shaking his head. Maybe I was expecting too much from my father-in-law and the others of his generation. They hadn’t grown up with the technology people my age took for granted.
    I walked to the checkout stand, ready to begin my day, but as I left I heard Mama Isa ask Mario, “¿Es ella loca?”
    I didn’t have to be fluent in Spanish to know she thought I’d gone crazy.
    Though my relatives’ lack of support cast a pall over my enthusiasm, ultimately it didn’t matter. Let them think me loca ; let them mutter all they wanted. As young adults in the twenty-first century, Gideon and I were going to take full advantage of the opportunities available to us. I was going to be a gestational carrier, and the sooner I got started, the better off I’d be.
    At the stroke of seven, Tumelo unlocked the front door. I took care of a customer who’d been waiting for one of the cellophane-wrapped pastries on the counter, then quietly pulled my cell phone from my purse.
    Through an Internet search I’d discovered a surrogacy agency in St. Petersburg, so I wouldn’t have far to drive for an interview.
    Grasping the last shreds of my courage, I unlocked my phone. Though I knew the agency’s office wouldn’t be open this early, I hoped to leave a message and request a callback. I punched in the agency’s number, then lost my nerve and hung up.
    Why was I so nervous about committing to a phone call? Gideon had given his permission, and his opinion mattered more than anyone else’s. My mom might never see things from