CHAPTER SEVEN
Jane was at a loss, a feeling she hated. School would be over in a week and she still had no idea what to do about Kate's surgery and her father's pill addiction. DW would be graduating, but her depression and dark chats made Jane wish she'd stick around for the summer so she could watch her.
But after a breakfast conversation, it was clear that DW wasn't going to stick around. She wanted to go to college elsewhere, and she'd been accepted a few days prior without Jane's knowledge. The college and the acceptance letter were legit, and just before flying out the door, DW showed her mother the school's website. Their dorms would start accepting fall students June the first, and DW wanted to leave then so she could settle in.
Jane was horrified. That gave her a week and a half with her daughter after graduation, which wasn't long enough to figure out what was wrong with her. Part of her said that DW was fine and that she was just worried about the changes going on in her life, but Jane couldn't help but worry that this was a warning sign for sinister things to come.
As she tried to get some work done for her clients that morning, Jane couldn't shake that nagging feeling, so she went upstairs and moved into DW's room. Like before, the computer came to life without a password, and DW's pages were left up like before. Today the chat was closed, and everything seemed a little better than before. Jane jotted down on the back of her hand with a pen what page she was on, then she clicked through the tabs.
On the last tab to the right, Jane found another chat site. This one had people she'd heard of on it, students from Elwood City, though not all of them from high school. Slink had graduated the year after Arthur from the community college's GED program, yet here he was talking to her daughter.
Jane had heard plenty about him. He'd been expelled for drugs and alcohol possession on campus, and his fast pace through the area's top GED program was only a part of his probation sentence and nothing more. Otherwise he'd still be a high school dropout, a lowlife in a middle-class town. Now he was living that dream. Jane looked him up in a new tab about found out through Facebook that he was unemployed living with another guy just like him.
Jane was disgusted, so she went back to see what they were talking about. DW seemed to be friends with the others in the group chat, but Slink wasn't a friend. She wanted nothing to do with him, and neither did anyone else. He left the chat early with a smile, promising to be back, and Jane wondered if he was possibly bullying DW or someone else in the group.
Feeling discouraged, she moved on to the others in the group. On Facebook they seemed like decent enough people. One guy was going through hard times, the divorce of his parents and some family death business. Jane felt sorry for him, and she saw that DW did too. She sent him sympathetic messages every day on his wall, and Jane felt slightly uplifted. Maybe she was looking up information for him. Maybe he was the depressed one and she was just trying to help.
Another tab seemed to confirm this. She'd found a PDF download of a self-help book based around dealing with depression, and Jane saw that the ladybug flashdrive she usually kept on her keyboard was gone. That was for her personal projects, Jane remembered, because she'd left it at Thora's house and demanded Jane drive to get it back. DW must've downloaded the file, put it there, and taken it to school to give to her down-in-the-dumps friend.
Her snooping helped relieve her inner pain for her daughter, but that was just one problem. Something crashed downstairs, and when Jane got there, she found an empty Advil bottle on the counter, a broken glass on the floor, and David desperately trying to get the mess cleaned up.
"What the hell are you doing?" Jane spat.
"I just needed something to get me through the day. The pain was just too much," he pleaded.
Jane eyed the bottle. It was mostly full, and now that it was empty, Jane could put together the pieces. She had to make it seem like something else, so she grabbed her keys and purse slowly while explaining herself:
"Well honey, if you're in that kind of pain, maybe we should go to the ER. Come on, I'll tell them how much you need it. I know they'll listen to me."
David agreed, and after getting the glass shards into the trash, he followed her to the car. He encouraged Jane's fast driving, and soon they were at Elwood City General Hospital's ER. Jane went in with David by her side, but Jane sent him to the waiting area.
"May I help you, Ma'am?" the lady asked.
"My husband just took a whole bottle of Advil. He has a pill addiction and thought it would help. I'm afraid he's going to overdose so I brought him here," Jane said in a hushed voice.
Everything moved quickly after that. David was taken back, and Jane knew what would happen. His stomach would be pumped, and after recovering, he'd be sent home without the pills Jane promised him. He'd be angry, irate even, and Jane couldn't take it. She needed time to think, so while she waited in the ER's waiting area, she called Thora and got her opinion.
Together they decided to hatch a plan to keep him there. Jane put on her best upset face and reapproached the desk. The woman recognized her immediately and asked what was the matter. Jane told them she was afraid her husband was suicidal. Yes, he wanted pills, but he knew that taking a bottle of Advil would be more likely to kill him than ease the pain. She was afraid he'd be suicidal if he came home, and the desk clerk passed the word.
An hour later, a doctor emerged and had Jane sign the paperwork. David would be put under a seventy-two hour suicide watch in the hospital's mental ward once he was cleared by the ER. Jane would go home alone, and she'd need to make up a story, but at least this was a first step in doing something about her husband.
Francine started her journal, and when she went to lunch with the girls again, she told them to do the same. They all loved the idea, but there was growing concern that they would all be better off finding new jobs than fighting for equality and fair treatment in the one they had. Surprisingly Samantha wasn't onboard with this theory despite her initial concerns about going after a corporation like this one. She liked the journaling and thought it would help during a legal battle. It was a handful of others that though a legal battle wasn't worth the effort. They'd be better off finding more jobs and pretending the horrors of this one never even happened.
Francine had done her own research into other jobs after her conversation with Samantha, and while it would be difficult to break into another company's ranks, it wasn't an impossible task, and there were plenty of positions open nearby. It was tempting to switch jobs, Francine knew, but she'd rather finish her crusade here. She'd rather bring Thornton and the others down that tackle new problems, some of which could be worse than being grabbed at work.
After realizing many of her female coworkers were willing to fight the good fight, Francine thought about other ways to get evidence on Thornton. Journaling was still putting their words to paper, but they needed something else if they wanted to prevent a he-said, she-said court battle in the future, a battle they would probably lose. They needed photographic evidence, so Francine went home and looked into secret cameras. She sent a message to Catherine, and together from their respective computers, they found several items with cameras hidden inside.
"I think you should use the flower pot and bring that aloe plant to your office like Mom always wanted," Catherine suggested. Francine liked the idea, so she put in the order. She then made a list of the other items. The next afternoon at lunch, she passed the list around the table.
"I think if we have video and sound evidence, it will make our case much easier to fight," Francine said. "I've ordered a flower pot for my office. I think you all should try something else, maybe the picture frame or something else."
"I like the pencil container thing," Samantha laughed, pointing to Francine's entry. Francine blushed with embarrassment, but it worked. Samantha and another woman agreed to order those, and three others went with photo frames. One was a newlywed, so it was the perfect cover for her.
With everything settled, the women felt empowered, but Francine was still cautious. She looked at those job listings again when she got home, and she wondered if she should find something else just in case. She decided to hold off, but she did look up things about sexual harassment. One thing stuck out to her—maybe Thornton didn't know that he was making them uncomfortable because no one had said anything. They needed to speak up, to tell him no, otherwise even video evidence wouldn't help them.
Francine took a deep breath. It would take a lot of strength to speak in that moment at all, let alone to tell the grabber to quit grabbing. She would have to do it to get anything done, as would the other women. If they wanted to win, they had to fight the entire fight, not just part of it.
Copies of Fern's overly edited books came in the next morning, and soon Fern and her mother were delivering them to people all over town. Fern kept Alex in the loop via texts, and soon both were reading the edited book so they could be specific in their reviews. This task only made Fern angrier, but it did give her plenty of ammo. In Doria's attempt to fix things the way she wanted, she left paragraphs behind or made strange formatting errors. The evidence made it much easier for Fern to write her reviews, even if it was hard to read.
After a week, Fern started creating accounts and getting her identities together. She bought a notebook after a shift at the Greasy Burger to keep everything together. She made a chart within the pages with the identities and the review sites she wanted to use, and she showed the chart to Alex during a lunchtime meeting.
Their plan was in place, and soon Fern was sitting down to write her first review. It was difficult at first, but soon the words flowed like a waterfall. Her one-star review was five hundred harsh words long, all of them pointed at the editor. Fern emailed the link to Alex, who liked it under his own account.
He responded within minutes to tell her what she'd done, then he asked a question that Doria hadn't bothered to ask: Was Fern still working on her books?
The short answer was "no," namely because she'd been too busy working with her mother on the published one. The response she got was expected. Alex wanted her to be successful, and being successful as a writer meant writing constantly to get something good enough to present to the world. He was genuinely concerned that she was losing her mojo because of her mother's ill deeds, and she needed to keep everything together if she wanted to be successful in the future.
So that night, she sat down to write and found herself in a jam. She'd stopped mid-chapter before and lost her place in her outline. Fern felt stuck and frustrated, and she quickly found herself in tears, not because of the frustration but because of the anger. Her mother was ruining her, and Fern couldn't tell if this was something intentional or unintentional. Why would her mother ruin her when her own name was plastered on the cover? Fern couldn't understand it, not one aspect of it.
Fern checked the time and realized it was getting late. She changed into her pajamas and sank into bed, then her phone buzzed. Alex wanted to know her progress, and she was honest with him. She was stuck and upset, and she knew it was her mother's fault.
'Don't let her get to you,' he replied. 'I'm keeping an eye on her. We won't let it happen again.'
'Has she done anything else?' Fern asked.
'IDK,' Alex replied, quickly adding, 'but I warned Mrs. Powers. I didn't drop your name. I just told her to be careful.'
The reference clicked with Fern instantly. Mrs. Powers had wanted to franchise for years, and Doria would've been the woman to help. But if her mother interfered, she could hurt the business before it even gets a chance to begin. Fern asked Alex to keep her informed, but she needed to sleep tonight. Alex agreed, and he begged her to talk to him if she needed anything. She thanked him, but tonight wasn't the night. She'd try again tomorrow and the next night, and hopefully she would get results.
Sue Ellen was having lunch in the student center while looking over an assignment. She had to read about a hundred pages before the next class meeting, which was eight the next morning. Get a jump on the assignment now would save her from pulling an all-nighter to get the material in, so she was eager to eat in silence.
But halfway through reading a word, she noticed a shadow descend over her as a person sat across from her. Sue Ellen looked up and was stunned to see George Lundgren, a heavy backpack in his left hand as he lowered it to the floor. His right hand had the same cold-cuts sandwich she'd picked up from the coffee shop.
"Wow, I did not think I'd be seeing you, like, ever," George grinned. He tapped his smartphone, "I used to read your blog daily, when you updated it. Are you done with France now?"
"Well…," Sue Ellen stammered, trying to decide what to say. She finally sighed and went with the truth, "Yes, but no one can know. That was Mom's dream, but I just couldn't keep doing it, so I came here in secret. I wiped out my savings flying back and getting an apartment close to school. I'm going to finish my Master's degree here whether it's what Mom wants or not, but I'd rather tell her later."
"I get it, but I'm worried about you if you wiped out your savings. School is expensive, and you're living on your own too? Wow, that's so much money. Where are you going to work?" George asked.
"Well, a friend of mine works here in the archives library, so I'm thinking of getting a position there. But things have been taken care of so far. One of my French classmates talked to me, and when he found out what I was doing, he offered to pay my expenses. It was really nice of him, but I just…I don't know why he'd do something like that for me without anything in return. I just don't get it. I mean, he did ask me to write a paper the last time we talked, but I couldn't tell if he legitimately wanted my opinion or if he wanted me to do an assignment for him."
George shifted, "Wow, that is surprising. I mean, if he really is rich and that's how he wants to spend his money, cool and good for you. But I'd be skeptical too. And he wanted you to write a paper for him?"
Sue Ellen shrugged, "I don't know what he wanted, but he should know that's why I wanted to leave France in the first place. I couldn't do the work because they wanted so much from me, and I never could do it right. Before I dropped I was going to fail a class or two anyway. Coming back here was just a relief, and I'm doing okay with the workload. I mean, I have a lot of reading to do, but otherwise—"
"Oh, I hope I'm not bothering you. I just saw you and wanted to check in, and to make sure it was you," George smiled. He started gathering his things, "I've got work to do myself, so I'll get going now. But…I'll keep your secret, but I think you should just tell your mom the truth. It sounds like France was just too much for you to handle and you were happier here all along. She'll probably understand that, but she won't like all this sneaking around. My mom is like that, at least. You should've seen her face when she found out about my secret girlfriend," George grinned. Sue Ellen smiled too. She remembered the Lundgren's being protective of their only son, so she didn't blame him for keeping his girlfriend a secret.
Before George got too far away, Sue Ellen called him back and got his contact information. She needed more friends in the States, and he was a good start. Besides, his advice was on point. She needed to figure out Pierre's true motives whether he was paying her expenses or not. But most importantly, she needed to figure out how to tell her mother the truth. He was right—sneaking around wasn't doing either of them any good. Her mother would probably understand anyway.
But as she kept reading and her mind began to wonder, she went back to Pierre's theory that her mother already knew. Sue Ellen doubted that from the beginning but she had to worry about it during their conversation. The evidence was there—Sue Ellen was noticeable from a distance, her mother could've been at the airport, and her sudden questions about her French courses was an unexplainable surprise. But Sue Ellen doubted her mother would simply question her about France to see where Sue Ellen would slip up. She was questioning her for a reason, and that was a reason she did need to ask her about. But most of all, she needed to figure out how to broach the subject with her mother. And she needed to do it soon before more damage could be done.
Jenna sipped a soda and looked Frank over. He seemed genuine, and after looking at the house, which was big enough for a nursery and much cleaner than the first house, Jenna was prepared to accept his invitation to move back in. Everything before must've been a misunderstanding, and as they finished their lunch, Jenna prepared herself for the conversation.
"So, what did you think of the house?" Frank asked.
Jenna smiled, "I love it. I mean, it's just so much better than the first one, and once the baby is born, there will be plenty of room. It's close to my job too."
"Job?" Frank questioned. Jenna told him about her job and its training, as well as how she and her manager planned to tackle things because of Jenna's pregnancy. Frank grinned, "Yeah, we'll see if you keep it. I mean, who's going to take care of the baby? Your mom can't do it because she'll have a job of her own, and I'm not doing it. That's your job."
"We'll figure it out, but we'd need the extra money if we're going to raise this baby. It'll need diapers and wipes, but maybe I can talk Mom into giving me the furniture. She's got a nursery ready at the house, so she might—"
"Don't count on it. Look, I don't know what dream world you live in, but our baby won't need all of those fancy things. I slept in a broken drawer when I was a baby and I turned out just fine," Frank chuckled, shaking his head, "And my mom was there with me the entire time. Money was tight but hey, things worked out."
Jenna shifted. This sounded more like the old Frank, and he was making her uncomfortable. She looked out the car window and realized they weren't heading back to where she'd left her car. No, they were headed back to the house.
"Frank, I have to take my car back home or Mom will be pissed," Jenna said firmly.
Frank shrugged, "Not my problem. Call and leave her a message. You said you liked the house so that's where we're going."
"Frank, I'll go back with you. Just let me get the car back to their house. I don't have to go in, but I do need to leave it in the garage. Just turn around," Jenna demanded. He argued with her, but she remained insistent. Finally he did a dangerous u-turn in the middle of the road and floored it back to the parking lot.
As Jenna drove back home in her own car, she knew this was her chance to make a decision. Part of her said that Frank was bad news, but her maternal side wanted to give him a chance to make things right within their little family. It was a nice house, and she knew she could convince him to let her go to work.
She eyed him in her rearview mirror. He was following too close for comfort no matter what speed she ended up going, and Jenna felt her pulse race. He was a dangerous guy, a very dangerous guy. She knew she shouldn't have contacted him or gone to lunch with him. She'd opened Pandora's Box and let out a monster, and she knew that monster had a hold on her.
After parking her car in the garage, she left the keys and the insurance card on her father's workbench. Then she got into Frank's passenger side and held on for dear life as he floored it back to their humble abode. Throughout the dangerous trip, Jenna thought about what she would have to do. She was stuck with him now. She could feel his dark grasp over her, and she knew she wouldn't be able to escape.
But as her baby kicked inside her, Jenna knew it could get out. She just had to have the strength to set them free.
Muffy spent her day being the coffee girl for a day-long meeting. When she returned to Maria's condo, she found her painting her toenails bright red in preparation for her night's date. They had discussed it over breakfast. There was a fancy rooftop pool party in downtown Metropolis and Maria was going with an astute businessman who liked to cut loose whenever he was in town. Muffy had overheard his name and realized this was one of her father's contacts, so she was wary about going.
But when Anastasia called and wondered if she'd be willing to accompany another businessman with ties to the Crosswire client base, Muffy had changed her mind. Her day was just as awful as the rest, and she decided to leave her makeup as-is. She changed into a sleek gown that she normally wore to clubs and went with Maria to the company limo. The men were picked up along the way, and soon they were mingling on a rooftop as music pounded around them.
Muffy's date was at the meeting earlier that day, and once alone, he decided to start asking her questions:
"So, how long have you been doing this?" he asked.
"Not long," Muffy replied. "It wasn't something I even considered, then I met Maria and she changed my perspective."
"I take your father doesn't know?"
Muffy scoffed, "Of course not, but I see that changing after tonight. You saw me today at the office. I hope he finds out and feels embarrassed. He deserves it after all he's done to me."
"Tell me all about it," her date grinned, leaning forward and placing his hand on her forearm, "I want to hear all about the private affairs of Ed Crosswire."
"He cut me off during college and left me hung out to dry, and now I'm stuck in Metropolis because I can't find other work. Before Maria I was bouncing around from condo to condo staying in friends' empty places, but now I'm with Maria, and my eyes are open to new things," Muffy said, sipping her martini. She looked up, "But I know you don't want to hear all about me."
"Actually I do. I'm in town on business, important business. Now that I see how he treats his own kin, you and Chip both, I'm concerned that he doesn't embody the values he preaches to us in private board meetings, the ones even you aren't allowed in for coffee runs. In those meetings, he says he's a genuine family man whose family grew with him, but now I see the truth."
"How far is this information going to go, about me being…me?" Muffy asked, choking on the word "escort."
The man smiled, "I'll be ending my contract abruptly, and if he asks why, I'll tell him the truth. He's not who he says he is, and you've opened my eyes to that. I'm glad you came out tonight. It's not easy doing something like this when you know people know, but look around you. Several guys from that meeting are here, and while some might think we're just hashing things out, they'll find out the truth when I get that dress off of you to reveal that little red bikini underneath."
Muffy blushed. He'd already caught a glimpse of her, but also, her outfit was a request. The driver even had one in the dash in case Muffy didn't have one already, but she did. She'd never worn it because it was far sexier than the bathing suits she normally wore, even her other bikinis.
But after he helped her get off her gown, she knew the bikini was perfect despite how revealing it was. All eyes were on her as she and her date waded into the pool and swam up to the pool-side bar. They rested on stools and got another drink, chatting and laughing as their fingers played with each other. After playing in the pool, splashing each other and laughing harder than they'd laughed in ages, they departed into the building. Rooms were available for what they ended up doing, and despite the shock of it all, Muffy knew one thing as she left later that night: This was the life for her.
Ladonna entered the classroom and looked around meekly. She'd taken her father's advice and returned to her old college to see if she could get back in. She'd have to retake one of her earlier courses because she didn't complete it the first time, but other than that, she was set to rekindle her degree.
But being in the classroom again was hard for Ladonna for multiple reasons. Her siblings and father had returned home a few days before because their business was settled, leaving Ladonna alone to deal with her mother's issues. The Magnolia Springs nurses were doing everything they could to work with Ladonna's mother, and she knew they were doing a good job with her care, a much better job than she was doing before they came. She was grateful for them and for the fund her mother created to pay them, but she still wanted to be there to keep a watchful eye over them.
As class began, Ladonna began thinking of ways she could be there without being there. As the professor wrapped up roll call and began discussing the course using the syllabus as a guide, Ladonna jotted down ideas in the margin of the document, flipping pages with her classmates to fit in. Really her mind was on nanny cams and microphones, distance apps and other technology, all of which would let her enter the house whenever no matter where she was in the world.
After departing her first class, Ladonna had an hour-long break, so she went to the campus library to do some online research. After renewing her password with the librarian, Ladonna was able to access the web and do the searches she needed .She found several systems that would suit her needs, but the cost bothered her. It was much more than she had, and while she was planning to get a job once her classes were settled, she needed that security system before she'd feel comfortable being out of the home for most of the day and evening. She had to make a choice, and despite the sick feeling in her gut, she made clippings of the articles and sent links to her father via email with the subject line "We need to talk about security."
Ladonna went to her second class with a weight off her shoulders. If her father or her siblings could help her pay for the system, she'd feel even more comfortable getting her own life again. She'd be perfectly fine with going to class in the morning and working in the afternoon or at night because her mother would be watched, not just by Ladonna but by her siblings as well.
The only problem was the work that Ladonna wanted. Her classes were to prepare her to become an office worker, a job she'd wanted for a while. She wanted to be the receptionist at a high rise office complex, which would allow her to know everything about everyone without leaving her desk. Ladonna knew she couldn't get a job like that right now, but part of her wondered if that was even what she wanted anymore.
After attending her third class, Ladonna looked over her syllabi and the course objectives. One class would help her typing, which she was grateful for because she typed like a turtle. But another class was about office organization, and her third, the class she stopped before, was about office documents. All she'd be doing all semester was writing memos, letters, meeting minutes, and other things according to her textbook's instructions.
Ladonna's dream didn't realize there was a mundane side to being a secretary. She wasn't going to be the watercooler diva or keep the workers' secrets that flowed past her desk every morning. She'd be a figurehead with a plastered-on smile, a smile that would be cracked as day to day problems piled up around her. The pay wasn't nearly enough for all the problems she'd have to deal with, and Ladonna wondered if this was really the right path for her.
As she thumbed over the documents, she realized this was something she could do for now. She could write stupid memos and keep a company running while she attended night school for something better. Besides, her college was currently paid for thanks to a college fund her parents started years ago. It was meant for whichever kid wanted to attend college, and so far, Ladonna was the only one, so all the money was going to her. After her initial degree, she'd be on her own, so Ladonna knew she'd have to stick it out.
But Ladonna wanted something else, so when she got home, she checked on her mother before sitting under a huge oak tree in her backyard. She thumbed through a career guide she'd gotten all the way back in third grade. Ladonna smiled as she thought of Mr. Ratburn's suggestion, a suggestion that got Fern angry. He wanted her to be a writer or a storyteller, and though he warned her it would be a difficult career, he wanted her to pursue it. Fern was angry because he wanted her to try being a librarian who wrote on the side or something like that, but from what Ladonna remembered, Fern failed out of college anyway. She thought about Elwood City and knew that's where she wanted to go when she was done here. She'd have to leave her mother behind, but Ladonna knew that was a risk worth taking. Her father was right. This was still her life, so she ought to go out and live it.
Richard helped calm Bitzi's nerves after her botched dinner with her son, but Bitzi's feelings about her son continued. She knew Buster might think her behavior was because she was a lonely aging woman with no man in sight, but she really was fed up with him thinking the next great woman was the one thing he needed to survive. Buster only needed himself, but lately he'd become a romantic. Dating Palladia wasn't going to help this issue. She devoured romance novels and romantic comedies for every meal of the day, and she'd had her wedding planned since she took a scrapbooking class with her mother when she was four years old.
Bitzi didn't mind the relationship in general, but knowing the details made her sick. Those two were probably going to get married, waste thousands on a huge wedding, then get divorced a year later due to "irreconcilable difference." It was more than Bitzi could take, but Richard helped her through.
After a quiet day at work, Bitzi found herself in her living room eating warmed over pizza while texting with him. Bitzi wanted face-to-face contact so she could finally get a sense of what her new best friend looked like, but Richard refused. The conversation continued as always without strain, but Bitzi wished she could get up the nerve to demand a phone conversation or a video chatting session. Richard was adamantly against these things, and it was starting to make Bitzi question who she was even talking to.
She knew these things happened because of Buster's MTV days. He'd watch a funny video show and leave the channel up when he left for school. Bitzi would wander into his room to turn it off so she could work in complete silence, and that's when she discovered Catfishing. The show was something Bitzi was intrigued by, and soon she was watching it on her own. She was amazed at how gullible those people could be.
But as she realized what she was doing, chatting online with a guy she felt in love with despite a lack of photographic evidence and other things, she realized she could easily be a victim. Richard could really be a twelve-year-old looking for laughs, which would explain why he didn't want to really be seen or why he didn't want his real voice heard.
Bitzi couldn't take this. She went to the refrigerator and dug around for wine but found none. After a short drive to the store, she returned with a bottle of white wine and poured herself a heaping glass of the liquid. She told Richard she was going to watch a movie and she'd text him later, but she was really online doing a search for his name as the wine started to work its magic.
Everything seemed legit. The name existed, and she even found a news story about his work from the town he said he was from. The wine combined with this evidence helped ease Bitzi's nerves, but she was still antsy. If Richard wasn't who he said he was, Bitzi would be devastated, or part of her would be. Part of her was desperate enough to see if it could work. If this person wasn't Richard but still wanted a relationship, she wanted to try to maintain it no matter what. She needed companionship and this person gave it to her, so why judge them if they aren't who they say they are?
With her decision made, Bitzi settled into bed as the wine's buzz took hold of her. She turned on a show and returned to her conversation with Richard. He called her out for being drunk, but she didn't mind. She was having fun with her companion, whoever he was.
Belinda wandered the house aimlessly. The laundry was done and the kitchen was clean after three days of being home. But her phone was silent, and the job listings were just as quiet for work that she felt she could do. Belinda was getting jumpy because of her lack of work, so she thought of alternatives. She decided to go out on the town after lunch to see what kind of work she could dig up. With school ending soon, most jobs were already guaranteed to teenagers once they were off on summer break. Feeling discouraged, Belinda found herself in the Powers' ice cream shop browsing the selection.
"How can I help you today?" Anita questioned, putting on food prep gloves and grabbing a clean scoop, "Having a hard time deciding?" she asked with a smile after a moment.
"Pretty much," Belinda nodded, "I've been out job hunting, but I don't know what I'm in the mood for at all. What job do I want? I don't know. What flavor of ice cream do I want? I have no idea. You know what? I'd like your flavor of the day, whatever that is. Wait, do you still do that?"
"No, but I'll pick for you. Is pistachio mint good?" Anita asked. Belinda nodded and watched her dip the green ice cream into a small bowl. "Do you want any toppings?"
"Rainbow sprinkles," Belinda said with a matter-of-fact tone. "It's been one of those days," she grinned, handing Anita her card. Once the transaction was complete, Belinda looked back, "What kind of jobs do you have available?"
"I'm actually expanding to a new location in Metropolis in a few weeks. But…you're Binky's mother, correct? I thought you were a nurse," Anita said as she tossed her food prep gloves and joined Belinda at a table close by.
"I was a nurse, but the general hospital just…they worked me to the bone, so I had no choice but to quit. No one else has gotten back to me, so I need something soon to help get bills paid. I mean, it's only been a few days so I'm probably overreacting, but it's so strange to not have work when you've worked your butt off for as long as I have," Belinda lamented, shoving a biteful of the ice cream into her mouth. She nodded, "This was exactly what I needed. Thank you."
"You looked it," Anita smirked. "Look, I've got problems of my own, so I understand you. These last few days have gone so slowly, so I feel you. I'll tell you what. You obviously have good leadership skills to be a nurse, and that's what I need in a manager. I'll send you home with some material, and if things work out with work in your field, great. If not, call me and I'll get you set up with me. The pay is nothing compared to what you got as a nurse, but most tips don't get taxed, so you can usually take home some pocket money after most shifts, which would help you with the commute."
"Thank you," Belinda smiled, taking another bite of her ice cream, "I knew it would be a good idea to come in here."
"Well, I'm glad to help. Hey, how is Binky, by the way?" Anita asked, looking up as another customer entered. When she was done getting their order, Belinda replied:
"He's been working with the railroad for a while. He took some basic engineering classes but decided they weren't for him, at least until he found this work. Now he's got a degree going and he gets good money. I don't know exactly what he does, but I'm not going to question him. What about Brain? How is he?" Belinda questioned.
Anita plastered on a smile, "He's fine. We're all doing quite well," she lied. Belinda didn't catch the lie as she finished her ice cream. Anita gave her the material, and Belinda went home content. Even though she had no new messages on her cellphone or landline, she was still content because she had a backup plan, a sweet one at that.
Anita entered her empty house and sighed. Her run-in with Belinda ended up being beneficial because she might have a manager for a new location. But talking with her only helped Anita see how not-fine everything in her life was. Her son was still AWOL in Chicago doing God knows what while kids like Binky went on to lead healthy, well-paid lives. Her alcoholic husband was still in jail for his DUI, and now she was having issues with Doria.
As Alex warned her, when Anita got her designs finalized, she and Doria met up at the print shop to make sure everything was fine. But everything wasn't fine because Doria had made unauthorized changes to Anita's design. She and the printer argued with Doria over the importance of keeping trademarked materials as-is, but Doria was a tough sell. She finally listened, but Anita wondered if that was yet another relationship that was about to take an awkward nosedive into silence.
The only good thing that came out of the day was finding Fern's book, through her mother of course. She sold her a copy for five bucks, which didn't seem like a lot, so for the first time in years, Anita curled up in bed preparing to read herself to sleep.
But her mind was preoccupied. Her husband had called her three times during the day, twice from phones at the prison and once through his court-appointed lawyer. His trial date had been set, and he wanted Anita there to support him, whether she actually wanted to support him or not. Anita didn't want to go for her own personal reasons, but part of her wanted to be there for her husband. She wanted him to be free from his troubles, but that would mean that he needed to be sober.
Anita put Fern's book to the side and pulled out her laptop like she'd been doing a lot lately. Instead of working on things for her business, Anita found herself online looking for alcoholism treatment facilities in and around Elwood City. There was an addiction center in the middle of town for all sorts of conditions, and Anita knew she needed to send her husband there in an attempt to help him escape his burdens.
As she jotted down the name and address, her phone rang. It was Alan, so she answered it and talked to him for a while. He wanted to know about his father, so Anita told him things were the same. Then he asked about the weather, namely the temperature. It was still cold in Chicago, he said, and he was tired of it.
Anita sighed, "Why don't you come back here? I can help you find work, and it's been warm here all month," she offered.
"No," he said adamantly just as he always did.
Anita sighed again, "Well honey, I can't help you if you won't even tell me why you don't want to come back here. You keep asking about how things are, yet when I ask you about coming home, you act like there's some monster here planning to come after you the moment you step into city limits. Unless you tell me what the monster is, I can't offer you anything," she ranted with far more anger than she intended.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," Alan whispered, ending the call immediately.
Anita exhaled slowly as she put her cellphone back on her nightstand. Anita shook her head. Every man in her life had more issues than she could handle, and even her own problems were starting to take on new life. Doria was becoming an issue, and Anita knew they needed to talk. It was after ten, but Anita knew if she sent a text now, Doria would respond before the next morning faded into afternoon. She asked about lunch, and sure enough, Doria responded a little after eleven to set up plans.
Anita turned over in bed and tried to get to sleep. Her eyes remained wide open as she thought about the swirling mass of problems that waited for her outside her bed. She closed her eyes and tried to will them out of her conscious mind. It worked just long enough for her to get to sleep, but the issues followed her into her dreams, making for a restless night of limited sleep.
Molly was asleep on the couch when James came home. He'd had to help close just like previous nights, but he was surprised to find his sister in the living room. Judging by the evidence, she'd fallen asleep in front of the television, but James could tell she didn't intend to fall asleep. A coffee mug sat on the table half-full of the caffeinated liquid. James knew to wake her up, and once she was lucid, he asked her why she was trying to wait up.
Molly smiled, "I don't think I should bother you tonight. I wanted to be awake with you to begin with. That would make it better."
"The way you make it sound, this is important," James said, sinking next to his sister, "Come on, tell me. What's going on? I know something's been bothering you, and I know it's something big because Rattles has been here."
"Wait, how did you know that Rattles had been here?" Molly asked with a stressed tone.
"I saw him at the store and he patted my head and walked off instead of asking how we were. That told me that he already knew how we were doing. Add in the strange tire tracks in the driveway, and yeah, I kinda figured it out on my own," James explained.
Molly sighed, "Well, I needed his help with something, and I'll continue needed his help for a while."
"You're not pregnant, are you?" James asked.
Molly laughed, "Oh, James, I wish it was that simple. I really, really do, but no, I'm not pregnant. You know I went to the doctor about my heartburn though, and you never really asked how it went, but it didn't go very well."
"What's wrong?" James asked with a hint of emotion in his voice. Molly was starting to get emotional too, and he fed off his sister's energy. He knew whatever she had to say wasn't good.
"He told me he wanted to do a scope test called an endoscopy. They basically stick a camera down your throat to see what's wrong, and he expected to find a defect in my esophagus or something like that. But instead he found tumors. I have cancer that isn't just confined to my stomach. He's found some tumors in my abdominal wall and some other places, but he thinks it's treatable. Rattles and his wife are going to take me to treatments next week, and I might need to get some other people involved too."
"Cancer is bad, right?" James questioned.
Molly nodded, "Cancer is really bad, especially in someone my age. It's not common, and I think he was pretty surprised to find it in me. He probably thought I was pregnant too," Molly grinned, wiping away a tear, "but it wasn't that simple. He hasn't given me much information on how bad things can get if these treatments don't work, but I think he's hopeful that my age will give me an advantage."
"What about work? Are you still going to be able to go in?"
"I'm going to try. Look, things aren't going to be easy around here, but with your job, we should be okay. Also, Rattles and his wife helped me fill out some paperwork. I got a letter today telling me my treatments would be paid for as long as I get the physician to send them the invoices, which he agreed to do when I called his office earlier. We're going to fight this, and we might not win, but I won't just leave you out to dry."
"I don't want you to leave me at all," James cried.
Molly pulled him into a hug as tears streamed down her face, "I don't want to leave either."
Prunella left the job interview at Hampton Motors with a soft grin on her face. She didn't know why she stepped into the lot she once knew as Crosswire Motors, but the Help Wanted sign called her name. She needed something else, and they were happy to hear her spiel. She emailed them her résumé before leaving, and she left them her phone number in case things did work out.
As she went off in search for dinner, she finally got back to Dr. Mano's voice mail that he'd left earlier. He wanted to move Rubella to a treatment center especially for rehabbing people like her, and Prunella just needed to tell him whether or not this was what she wanted. Her response was simple: As long as Rubella's insurance covered almost everything, they could do whatever they wanted. Prunella couldn't pay for her treatment, and she doubted Rubella had enough despite her tendency to hoard money and loose change.
She made her message clear before picking up a fast food burger and heading home. Once there, the shadows tried to make faces on the wall, but Prunella willed them away by turning on her television and another lamp. The television sounded funny from the kitchen, putting voices in her head, so Prunella moved into the living room and turned up the volume. The extra voices stopped, and she was finally able to finish her meal in peace.
Prunella thought about the last few days and realized she was doing that a lot. She kept hearing voices that morning while she worked, so she blasted her radio, which annoyed her officemates and brought her some dirty looks. Prunella didn't dare tell them the truth now that her "waving at the hallucination" story was the new office joke. They picked at her because they thought it was from all the work she was doing and the exhaustion, but Prunella didn't find it particularly funny. She decided that's why she subconsciously wanted to leave right then, but really she didn't know for sure. She just knew she wanted to leave.
The car dealership wasn't even her first interview. She'd had a phone interview with another advertising firm and printing establishment over the last few days, and she'd been trying to set up a good time with a water distribution plant just outside of town. Prunella was dabbling in anything that seemed semi-appealing in her search for something better, but her worry was only growing. What if she couldn't find something else? What if her current job was driving her crazy?
As she watched television and ate a dessert consisting of a pink of ice cream and tons of chocolate syrup, she wondered what her life was becoming. Her sister's illness was finally spilling into her life more than she wanted, and she wondered if her sudden disdain of her job and life was a sign to finally leave. Prunella had always wanted to get out of Elwood City, at least for college. That didn't exactly work out, but now could be her chance.
The television worked to distract her, but the thought nagged at her well into the night. She even dreamed of being on a cruise ship, then a plane piloted by Bo Baxter, and finally a road trip with Muffy Crosswire and some other girls from her Lakewood days. She woke up wondering what the dreams were trying to tell her. Was it her own creation or her mind's way of telling her to head for the hills?
Prunella didn't know, so she wrote down her dreams in her dream journal, dressed, and rushed out the door to start another day of work.
Mary was halfway through her current proposal when she checked in with Marina a few days later. She discovered Marina with a stressed look, but she kept her observation to herself as she discussed her work. The process itself would be time-consuming, probably dragging out longer than the school might last. Marina didn't know what to say about that, so Mary spelled it out for her:
"If the school shuts down completely before the money can get to them, the money might not be able to get to them. Either way, I'm adding in a clause about us considering new leadership in order to fully use this grant to its maximum potential. I just can't prove to them that these guys are really for the school's basic needs and beyond with the evidence I currently have."
"You've been digging into the school's private affairs?" Marina questioned.
"Of course," Mary grinned. "A major part of grant writing is getting to know your company, and since I'm working with an employee instead of the top dogs themselves, I've had to do my own digging to really get to the bottom of things. It's actually helpful this way because I don't have people trying to convince me they're something they're not. So, I've been able to really get to know these guys. They're all from fairly affluent backgrounds, and most were appointed by the generation that established the school. I feel like the only reason they're decent is because they have state mandates running things. I mean, yes, they hired some good people to teach the students and whatnot, but I feel like the state mandates are the real reason things have gone well thus far. Without those mandates, I think the students would basically be prisoners."
"Prisoners? Wow, that's a harsh accusation. What made you think that?" Marina asked.
Mary cocked her head, "Well, I have resources, plenty of them. For this case, I asked a friend of mine to do some work in digging up meeting transcripts, emailed conversations, and other things that can be found by hacking their server."
"Isn't that illegal?" Marina questioned meekly.
"Only if I use it for inappropriate means," Mary responded. She leaned forward, "Look, I'm just trying to figure out who I'm working with, as I already said. If I uncover what I think I'm going to uncover, we'll have plenty of evidence to include a chunk of text asking for new leadership. And there's a possibility someone could be trying to buy them out. If I can find out about any possible deals, I might try to steer them in our favor."
"How?"
"Well, if another company tries to buy them out that's better than anything these grants could get for us, we can approach the buyers and tell them the employees are in favor of new leadership. We can push them to fight harder for the place, and if the school finds out its employees would rather have new leadership, it could work in your favor," Mary explained, quickly adding, "But it could backfire, of course, and you all could lose your jobs. I don't intend for that to happen, and that's why I'm being so sneaky with my research. If I start digging out in the open, they'll know something's up, and from what you've said, it's already clear that you're not on their side. They must know by now that you're trying to find solutions."
"Possibly," Marina agreed, "but I don't really talk to anyone anymore. Anthony was my confidant, but now I've really messed things up with him. I need to talk to him, but I don't know if I'll be able to. I haven't really tried yet anyway. He needs time to work through his own issues. I did kinda reject his offer to work for his father's school."
"Well, that's why I've mentioned digging. I'm hoping to find out that he's trying again to buy the place out. I feel like the Board of Directors presented a counteroffer that seemed bigger than he was willing to pay because he thought he'd have to redo everything. If I find out the truth and can get him to listen, he might try to buy again. And maybe you should approach Anthony soon and let him know what you were thinking," Mary offered.
"I don't know. I don't know what I'd even tell him. I mean, I just…I guess I should tell him about my experiences with rich people. I grew up around the Crosswire family, so that's just what I picture when I hear about rich people," Marina explained.
"Tell him that, and I think he'll understand. There's probably more to his anger anyway, more than you can know," Mary winked, gathering her things. "I'll keep you informed, but I wanted to let you know I'm almost done. And I needed to tell you about the process. If no one buys out the place and these grants don't come in time, you'll be out of luck. Do you have a backup plan?"
"No, but I don't get the feeling I'll need one," Marina said with complete honesty. Mary didn't understand, but she didn't worry herself with it. She left to continue her work.