Agnes Yates, a writer and school photographer, loved both her jobs. More than she loved anyone or anything else in her life. More than her parents, who were mean. More than her twin sister, April, who was also mean. More than any man she’d ever dated. More than the yellow coat she’d purchased as a birthday gift for herself and always wore.
She’d fallen in love with school photography because the faces staring back at her were smiling and genuine at a time when so much of her life was spent staring at unsmiling and disingenuous faces. And she’d fallen in love with writing because she could create a world rich in luxury and adventure at a time when so much of her life was unluxurious and unadventurous. She didn’t care that her photography work was seasonal in nature and the pay was mediocre
