One of my failed attempts to start this story. I got stuck here and realized that it was not going in the right direction.
Bracken Carnegie. Not much thought went into that name. Bracken, a type of fern. Also the name of my mother’s grandfather, who was a lord of something or other in England. Carnegie, my father’s surname, of course. Passed down from the unknown generations. We’re said to be cousins to the famous Andrew Carnegie, the steel guy, and that’s why we’re rich, but not as rich as he was. And that’s all there is. No middle name, no nicknames, nothing. Just Bracken Carnegie. My parents consistently told me that their expectation of me were very low. Everybody else in their family had already done everything impressive. All I had to do to make them happy was play the violin like an angel, attend Harvard or Oxford, and marry a Kennedy.
Harder than it sounds.
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