by Mia Moore
“No. Actually I don’t dust. The cleaners do. Maybe they moved it.” Oh God. Just go. There was probably only twenty-five minutes to finish the test.
Martha appeared next to Claire. She shoved the door to Brie’s room open. “She took it. I bet if we searched her room, we’d find the bracelet. The thing is priceless! Hopefully she hasn’t pawned it yet.” She strode past Brie, over to the night stand, yanking the drawer open so hard it flew from the casing.
There was a flash of white light and gold, something flying through the air and a clatter on the floor.
Oh my God, the bracelet lay glittering, the diamonds like cold ice set in fire, along and accusing on the bare wood floor of her bedroom.
Brea’s breath froze in her chest. “I didn’t take that. I don’t know--”
“You took it all right! How else would it be in your night stand? You thief!” Martha’s eyes were like a viper’s, narrow and dark, while Claire cried out and raced to pick up the bracelet.
“No. That’s not true. I don’t know how it got there. Honestly. Claire you have to believe me.” Brie stepped closer to Claire but Martha pushed her body between them.
“Don’t you go near her! After all she did for you, giving you a job here. I know about your background and your ex-con father. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She put her arm over Claire’s shoulder and they turned, walking to the door of the room.
Claire stopped and left Martha’s side, stepping closer to Brie, the bracelet threaded through her fingers. “If you needed money, all you had to do was ask. Why would you steal from me?” Tears formed in Claire’s blue eyes. “Chris recommended you even though he knew about your family. Oh God...”
Brie’s heart hammered in her chest with every word that Claire spoke. How could Claire think that she’d stolen from her? And if she had, would she be so stupid as to leave it in the night stand?
A bell sounded from Brie’s computer. Claire and Martha looked over at it.
Well that was that. Two tests and she’d failed both and now she was being accused of theft. She trudged over to the laptop and gently closed it.
“Pack your bags. I’ll send your pay in an email.” Claire’s voice was sad and she turned slowly to join Martha again.
“If anything else is missing, we’re calling the police. If you have anything just leave it on the bed. You have an hour to be out of this building or I WILL call the police.” Martha’s voice was cold and brisk before she led Claire out of the room.
Chapter 25
Brie slumped down onto the bed when the door closed behind the two women. The drawer of the night stand still lay on the floor a few feet away. There’d been nothing in that drawer except the tennis bracelet. She was pretty sure she’d never even opened it once.
But that didn’t matter now. Martha and Claire were convinced she’d taken the bracelet. She huffed a sigh, sinking lower onto the bed. How had Martha known to go straight to the night stand? She could only have known if she’d had a hand in putting it there. The bedroom door was never locked. All she had to do was wait for Brie to be somewhere else in the condo and she could have slipped it in.
It was obviously all Martha’s doing but how could she prove it? Claire and she were old friends. She snorted. “Almost sisters.” She whispered, staring at the drawer.
Her face grew hot and tears burned her eyes. It seemed everybody knew about her father and his criminal record. The sins of the father and all that religious bullshit. Except it wasn’t bullshit. How long would she have to pay for his sin?
She rose from the bed and wandered aimlessly to the bank of windows overlooking the city. When she’d first come here, she’d considered the Baders and herself by extension working for them, above the everyday cares of working people below, scurrying about their day, trying to eke out a living. Now she was about to join them.
What the hell was she doing here anyway? The city was cold and altogether too big. Too many rich people. Too much crime. Hell! They even thought she was a criminal, accusing her of theft!
She’d been a fool to come here, thinking she could make a life for herself.
A tear rolled down her cheek recalling the days with Chris. He’d been kind to her but that was his thing, wasn’t it? Looking after stray people, the way some people took in stray animals. Well, she was one project that hadn’t panned out. Maybe someday, she’d be able to repay him for the clothes he bought her.
She trudged to the closet and opened the large suitcase. One after another, she plucked dresses and stylish tops and pants from the hangers, tossing them in. It had been fun up until Martha had arrived. But who would believe her over Martha? Even Chris had defended the bitch.
There weren’t too many items in the bathroom. She crammed them down on the clothes and closed the lid of the suitcase. She picked up the cell phone from the top of the night stand and plopped it into her purse. She’d flag a cab when she was outside on the street. She checked that she had her bank card and some cash. Only forty dollars but enough for a cab ride to the bus station.
Two hours later, she boarded the bus, on her way back to Mumsford.
To be continued...
Chrysalis Book 3: Redeeming Brie
Chapter 1
Brie’s cell phone chimed, jolting her awake. She fished it out of her purse and sighed when the name flashed on the small screen. Chris. No doubt he was checking in to see how she was doing with her reading and the job at Claire’s. She pressed the button turning the phone off. There was no way she could talk to him or anybody now. Not after what she’d been through.
She glanced at her watch and settled deeper into the scratchy seat of the bus. Nine thirty. She’d been travelling since six, and wouldn’t be home in Munsford until midnight.
Home to Munsford? God, that was a depressing thought. Four months ago she’d been excited to be in New York City and call it home. Up until that afternoon, she’d actually thought that was a real possibility.
The image of Martha’s pinched face, her threatening words that she’d call the police, if she wasn’t gone from the Bader’s in an hour, flashed in her mind. Her eyes closed while her jaw clenched remembering the nightmare. That bitch. Everything had been going so well until she showed up at the Bader’s. Martha had set her up but good, somehow getting the tennis bracelet from Claire’s jewelry box and putting it in her room.
She bounced her head against the back of the high seat. Enough. That was then and it was over. Time to think about how she’d manage now that she was so close to home. She didn’t have much money and much as the prospect of getting a hotel room for the night appealed to her, it would be fool hardy. Who knew when she’d be able to get work? Munsford wasn’t exactly a thriving town anymore, not since the factory pulled up stakes and moved to Mexico.
Her stomach felt like a lump of lead had settled there, pulling her shoulders into a slump. She’d have to call her Mom and Dad. See if they’d let her stay there for a few nights, at least until she had a line on a job. Oh they’d be so thrilled to see her. Right. Even when she’d been in school, when she was a legitimate dependent, they’d made no secret they couldn’t wait for her to leave.
Now to come crawling back when she’d never even contacted them in the four months she’d been gone was going to be bad. She took a deep breath and huffed it out loudly. Well, she could put up with their attitude and comments for a few days. At least they weren’t trying to get her thrown into jail or something like at the Bader’s.
Her eyes narrowed for a moment watching the silent dark countryside flit by. But what about Rob? It wouldn’t take long for him to find out she was back in town. He’d probably come after her for half of the credit card bill they’d racked up before she left him. Was he still with the skank girlfriend or had she got wise and dumped him? It would be nice to see. Not that SHE wanted anything to do with him anymore. As for the credit card bill, suck it up, Buttercup.
Another loud sigh drifted from her nostrils. This was just procrastination. I
t was late and Mom had to get up for work in the morning. She’d better call before she hit the hay. It would be bad enough without waking her from sleep.
She pressed the button of the cell phone and pressed the numbers for her parents’ house.
“Hello?” Dad’s gravelly voice came through the speaker.
“Hi Dad. It’s Brie.” She blinked twice trying to dry the tears that welled in her eyes. Oh God. He’d never been much of a father but he was after all her Dad.
“BRIE? What the hell? Where ARE you?” His voice had risen but still not enough to drown out her mother’sscreech in the background. “It’s Brie?”
“I’m on a bus a couple hours out of town. Can I stay with you and Mom tonight?” Her fingers gripped the phone hard against her ear. Why was her heart pounding so hard? If they said no, she COULD get a hotel room. One night wouldn’t make THAT much of a dent. The tear rolled down her cheek. Maybe, just maybe, they had missed her? That would be nice.
Her mother voice boomed in the phone. “You’re gone four months without word one and NOW you call! You’ve got some nerve. Where are you?” The words were clipped and harsh.
Brie’s lower lip quivered and she bit down on it. Her voice was low. “I’m on a bus Mom. I’ll be home at midnight. Can I stay the night?”
There was a long exasperated sigh and silence for a few moments. “I guess. But you’ll have to take a cab. Your father’s had a few to drink and I’m not getting dressed to go get you.”
Of course. This was the way it’d been in high school when she’d missed the bus. She’d had to walk home. Mom and Dad weren’t putting themselves out for her. Some things never change. “Don’t worry. I will.”
A humph and then words like bullets from a machine gun. “I won’t be up. I have to be up at six in the morning for work. Your father might be. I don’t know.”
Brie took a deep breath and sighed slowly. “Just leave the door open. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
“Brie? Your old room...it’s not there anymore. It’s my sewing room now. You’ll have to bunk in the basement. The cot’s--”
“That’s fine. Talk to you tomorrow. Thanks.” Brie clicked the phone off no longer able to stifle the sob that choked in her throat. Even her old bedroom was gone. It was like they’d erased any trace of her. In all the time she’d been away they never called her. Not ONCE.
She tossed the phone in her purse and wiped her face with the back of her hands, swiping the tears away. What did she expect? Apple pie and picket fences? This was her parents after all. She didn’t belong with them, never had. And she definitely didn’t belong in New York City. THAT was an understatement.
She settled back into the seat once more, filling her lungs with the stale air. Outside lights of houses began to sporadically appear as the bus sped down the highway. She was getting closer.
The last time she’d been on a bus was speeding away from a life that had been too painful to endure—the final humiliation being Rob’s cheating, right under her nose. She snorted. Thinking she could escape and leave it all behind her.
Chris had accused her of running away. Said that was her 'go to' reaction when things got tough, to run. Well she wasn’t running now. No, she’d been fired. Kicked out for something she hadn’t done.
Chapter 2
Her hand rose and brushed against the fold of her ear, ending the irritating tickle. Eyes creaked open and flashed wide scanning the room. Where was she? There was a high small window in the dark wood paneled wall. Movement on her shoulder revealed a tiny dark object with many legs, scuttling fast onto the comforter.
She threw the covers back and jumped to her feet. Oh God. A spider? Of course there would be a spider. It was her parent’s half finished basement that they never used. Yuck! A shiver skittered down her spine. She may have been stepping onto thin ice, the way her foot slid forward towards her suitcase.
After a quick scan of the top, her fingers flew to unzip it and grab her housecoat. She slipped her arms into it and once more zipped the suitcase shut. The house was quiet. Her Mom was probably at work, but what about Dad? Had he managed to find a job in the time she’d been away?
She stepped across the floor of the small room. A worn green carpet ended about a foot away from the open doorway. Drywall with large gray patches of compound comprised three of the walls. In the five years since he’d started finishing the basement, he hadn’t gotten around to painting it? She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Her Dad wasn’t the most ambitious guy in the world.
After tying the sash of her robe she climbed the narrow wooden stairway, leading up to the kitchen. Her father looked up from the newspaper in front of him when she entered. Her body felt way older than her twenty-four years meeting his eyes. Neither of them bothered to smile looking at each other.
“Hi Dad. Mom at work?” She spied the half empty coffee pot and walked towards it.
“Of course. Where’d you think she’d be?” A loud slurp and then the clunk of the coffee mug hitting the table punctuated his comment.
She poured coffee into a mug and turned to face him, holding it tight to her stomach. He was still in a T shirt and flannel PJ pants, his beard scruffy under narrow eyes as blue as her own.
“Where have you been the last four months and what’s with the fancy robe? It looks like silk or satin.” He did an eye roll before slapping the table with an open palm. “Where’d you get the money for that, as if I don’t know.”
Her head edged forward and her jaw dropped as the implication of his words sunk in. “Dad! That’s low, even for you. I met a guy. A nice man who bought it for me.” Her face became warm under his steely gaze. “Shit! It’s not like THAT! He was my landlord in New York City and furthermore, he was GAY. Jeeze Dad.”
“New York City! THAT’S where you bin? Traipsing around with fags and God knows what! You should have stayed home with Rob. He told us how you ran out leaving him with a big credit card bill. Your mother gave him a couple hundred to shut him up.”
His jaw set and he rose to his feet. For a man pushing fifty, he looked ancient, face lined and grey. Although his shoulders were still wide, the bones under the flesh were evident. His arms, once full of muscle now appeared saggy and withered.
When had he gotten so old? It took a second for her eyes to widen as his words hit home. Rob was playing the martyr card? Oh, that was rich. “I left because he was screwing some woman in our apartment. I was sick and came home early and caught him.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “So don’t give me that about Rob!”
“Oh.” He held up his mug, signaling for another round. Just ‘oh’. No ‘that’s terrible’, no ‘poor Brie’, just ‘oh’.
When she poured more in, his voice was softer. “Well that’s not right. He shouldn’t have done that.” His head shook from side to side. “But a man doesn’t go to the supermarket for milk if he’s got some at home. You mustn’t have been much of a wife.”
She blew air from her puffed cheeks, trying to count to ten. She only got to three before her mouth was in gear. “I KNEW it would be MY fault. It’s always MY fault. You’d rather stick up for a jerk like Rob than your own daughter.”
“Lower your voice! It’s MY house and you can’t come in here and speak to me like that. What’s gotten into you, girl? This ain’t New York City and I won’t put up with your attitude. I’m your father, not some faggy boyfriend.”
She set the coffee pot on the burner. This time she was silent until she got to ten. “Look Dad, I’m just trying to tell you what happened. You can believe me, YOUR DAUGHTER, or you can side with Rob. It doesn’t matter one way or another. I don’t care. I’m going to get dressed and then I’m going to try to find a job and another place to live. It might take another day. I don’t know.”
“Good luck with that. I’ve been looking for six months and here I sit. But then again, not many places want to hire a guy with a record. Make one mistake and it haunts you for life.” He sat down and took a loud sip of coffee.
<
br /> There was a bottle of bourbon on the far end of the counter. It had only an inch of amber liquid telling the tale of why her father was out of work. She sighed and left the kitchen, on her way to the bathroom to shower and face the day.
The morning with her father had gone better than expected. Her mother would be another story. She shut the door and hung her robe on the back. As she showered, she made a mental list of the stores she could put an application in. Hell, she’d pump gas if it would get her out of there any faster.
Her shoulders slumped forward, her wet hair clinging wet around her face. Loser. Maybe Rob was right.
Chapter 3
She dressed in a pencil skirt and white silk blouse. There was a cracked mirror in a frame leaning against one of the walls of the bedroom basement. She adjusted it and leaned forward to apply mascara and a touch of eye shadow. Her hair hung loose, framing her face in soft dark wisps. Her clothes were bought in New York City, the cut and tailoring sharp and expensive. A bit flashy for Munsford but that was the way it was. If taking more care of her appearance was all she got out of her foray into the Big Apple, she was better for it.
After a final touch of a smear of lipstick over her full lips, she grabbed her purse and stomped up the stairs. The TV set blared from the living room and passing by the archway, it was apparent that Dad had started his day. His dark hair topped an easy chair, while his bare arm lolled on the table next to him, whisky glass in hand. He didn’t bother to turn or say good-bye. Neither did she.
Outside the sounds of birds, chirping, flitting high in the tree in the front yard broke through the gloom in her head. It was almost summer. Soon the kids would be out of school. At least she had an edge that she wouldn’t have to compete with high school students for any available jobs.
Her pumps clacked on the sidewalk, taking long purposeful strides. Funny. The way she was walking and the way she was dressed, she could be in the Big Apple. Except, the building she passed were squat drab bungalows. The working class part of town. With only her mother’s income and her father drinking a good share of it, it was a wonder they’d been able to hang on, even there.
