CHAPTER NINE
David was surprised to find his wife and mother sitting together in the kitchen when he got home. He checked the clock over the cooktop and discovered it was five-thirty, which meant the girls should be home. He could sense what this conversation would be about, and he knew he didn't want the girls to hear what was about to go down.
"The girls are out with friends tonight, so we're alone," Thora said as if reading his mind. David exhaled as he put his things down on the counter. He looked up to his mother who shook her head firmly, "Don't give me that look, David. We already had this discussion before, and now we're coming to you in one final push to get you to open your eyes."
"My eyes are open. It's you two who have no idea what I'm going through!" David spat.
Jane shook her head, "No, if you were actually in the pain you say you are, your doctors would get you the medication, and they would have evidence as to why you need it. Stealing from me and your mother proves it's the medication, not the pain, that motivates you."
"You're dead wrong," David countered.
Thora shrugged, "Either way, we're both tired of this song and dance. We've done our research, and you have two options. There is a treatment facility here in Elwood City that has agreed to take you for thirty days for the first phase of their program. You'll stay there and get sober, learn how to manage your problem, and learn other ways to control your pain. After thirty days, you can stay or you can return home for out-patient treatments.
"Your second option is simple. You refuse the first option, and I invite my friend from the police department over here for dinner and present him with the evidence I've gathered against you. He and I already discussed the problem, without personal details, and he said you'd probably get about ten years behind bars, and because that is a very public option, the entire town, plus your girls, will find out about your problem. DW is troubled enough, and Kate is at a very fragile age, and while Arthur has moved out and gotten his own life, I'm sure he'd be equally devastated to read about his father in the local paper," Thora trailed off.
David shook his head, "I don't understand why we have to do any of this. I'm fine! I'm perfectly fine, and doing anything at all will tip off the kids."
Thora reached below the table and pulled something from her purse. She slapped it down on the table, a pair of brochures and a white envelope, "We talked about this before, a wedding job complete with more possible work in one of the most beautiful places in the world. We'll tell them you decided to stay when you discovered work there, and I'm sure the girls will believe. Besides, you can write letters, which we can give to them without showing them the local postmark."
Jane nodded, "They said you can write as many letters as you want, which means as much contact as you want. We can throw in some postcards for effect if you'd like, but no one would have to know your business except the people you tell yourself."
David shook his head again before running his fingers through his hair. He knew he was trapped, that the women in his life meant business. He felt attacked, but part of him knew they were making as much sense as they could considering his problems.
"And there's no way out of the criminal charges once you file them?" David asked in a low voice.
Thora sighed with a throaty grunt, "What do you think, David? Those ten years are with a plea deal, but you can say you're not guilty and fight the charges. That could put you away for twenty years, maybe longer, and it would be even more public. You need to pick the first option. You need to go into treatment."
"Do I have a day to think about it?" David asked.
Jane shook her head slowly, "You either go to treatment or go to jail tonight, no exceptions. We already told the girls we had business to take care of, so we'll pick them up from their friends' houses later. What we tell them when we get home and you're not here is up to you. Treatment, aka a vacation job, or jail, aka the whole world will know your problems and how bad they are."
David knew this was it. He had to make a decision, and he knew he had to seek treatment. Within moments of his decision, Thora was driving him across town. The building was located in a gated office complex only accessible through a locked gate. No one would know he was there unless someone told them, and he knew they weren't going to do that, or he hoped they wouldn't.
After doing some preliminary paperwork together, David was soon taken back without his wife and mother. After he disappeared, the ladies made sure they had everything completed, then they went two separate ways. Jane went to get the girls while Thora went to get dinner. When they met up at home, they told the girls they took David to the airport to work a wedding over the weekend in the Bahamas. The girls were so happy for their father, and despite the lack of talk surrounding the work, they didn't notice. Dinner went as usual, and soon the girls were in their rooms working on homework.
Before leaving for the night, Thora assured Jane that things would work out now that they had taken action. David would get what he needed, and whether or not it worked was up to him, but this first step would be the hardest. By the time they figured out if it worked or not, Kate's surgery would be done and she'd be off the pain pills he felt he so desperately needed. DW would be wherever she was going, and Thora told Jane to focus on that. Jane agreed, but she hated her circumstances. Why did her life have to be so difficult?
Three days after Samantha's sudden walkout and bombshell, the charges were filed. Thornton was arrested in the office for raping her, and the news story broke on local social media outlets, spreading like an uncontrollable virus. The women around the office exchanged glances as phone calls started pouring in about the situation. Things were worse, a lot worse, and all of them were worried about the future.
Shortly before five o'clock, a meeting was called for every employee. Despite how close it was to quitting time, everyone filed into the largest boardroom in the meeting and took seats in silence, many of them with their bags in-hand. A few minutes later, the company's head bosses filed into the room and settled at the front. There was no time for chairs, so the six of them stood and looked over the group.
"We want to tell you about the criminal charges pending against Thornton Markus. The charges were filed by an employee who says the attack happened while she was here on the job," the CEO began. After scanning the room, he shook his head, "I can tell by the lack of shocked reactions that the word spread before this charges were announced. That is why we wanted to speak with all of you. Many of us feel this is a fruitless witch hunt by a scorned woman, but we understand the seriousness of these charges, and we want to assure all of you that we are taking this matter seriously."
Another associate stepped forward and accepted the microphone, "We want to conduct individual interviews with each worker throughout the week, and by 'we,' I mean the local police department. We've invited them in to make sure there are no underlying problems here, and we encourage all of you to be honest with these investigators."
Francine heard this and drowned out the rest of the assembly. As soon as it was adjourned, she and the others met in the parking lot and agreed to head over to a restaurant with a private room so they could discuss the matter. Once their food arrived and the doors were closed, the women got down to business with Francine leading the pack:
"We need to tell those investigators everything and let them spread the word to our superiors. If they can see the hidden problem, they won't think Samantha is some lone wolf acting alone to take down her boss," Francine said firmly.
"Do you think she did it for all of us?" one asked. Others argued with her, and a central conclusion was reached: Samantha was acting on her own behalf, not theirs.
Francine sighed, "Look, I know she probably did the one thing she thought would work in her favor. Depending on how this goes, she could have charges brought against her and be the one behind bars instead of Thornton. She probably knew that, but she had to do something to save herself. Taking the passive route like we've done has helped no one. We need to act, and these interviews give us that opportunity."
"What if they're in there with the cops?" another coworker asked. Everyone was stunned by the question at first. Why would they be involved with police interviews? But then the fear spread, and they all realized this could be a huge problem.
Francine came up with a way to solve it, "Even if they're in the room, we'll still be able to get contact information for the detectives involved. We can go to them on our own after hours or send them letters. We'll get our stories told."
"But will it even work? I feel like we should all just start looking for other jobs, if there are any around here," another sighed with tears in her eyes.
Francine knew she had a point. She was worried about everything hitting the fan and all of them being out of work. As Samantha discovered first, there was limited work available for them in the area, and Francine was not pleased with idea of giving up what she once thought was her dream job. She wanted to fight, but she knew the consequences, as did everyone else.
But they agreed they had to try. They would tell their story, and if there were officials from the company with the detectives, they had a backup plan to get their stories told. Then they just had to wait, and hopefully the word would spread through the executives, letting them know the man they trusted with their company was as bad as they came.
Fern was reading her work after her shift, or at least she was attempting to. Within moments of starting, her mother barged into the house on her cellphone. There was a major problem with one of her properties, and judging by the sounds coming from the living room, it was a nuclear meltdown issue with an important client. After a few more minutes of yelling, Fern finally found out what she needed to know: Anita's new property in Metropolis had fallen apart, or the deal had. Something was wrong, but Fern's frustration with all the yelling after her shift drove her over the edge.
After sending a message, Alex confirmed she could come over and read in his house. Fern was thankful as she gathered her things. She moved her piece over to a flashdrive and grabbed her laptop. Then she snuck out through the back door, exiting the yard through a side gate, and rushed away from the loud home. She practically ran the few blocks to Alex's house, and when she arrived, he seemed shock to see her so soon:
"That bad, huh?" he grinned, letting her in and leading her up the stairs.
"Yeah, something's up with Mrs. Powers' new property, I guess. I was trying to read, but of course I couldn't. It's so hard being around her sometimes, and it's been so much worse lately. I don't know what's up with her," Fern said. Once in Alex's room, she sank into a beanbag chair and he returned to his workstation.
"Well, all I can tell you is that things are getting to her. Your mom has always been in control, and I think that's why she uses me. I take her money, do the work, then I'm hands off from there. I don't care what she does with my designs, and she appreciates that. The problem is that not only am I getting tired of her doing this to her clients, others notice and they're tired of it too," Alex said, turning around, "And I've been online. I really hope she hasn't looked because people are talking about your book, and none of it is good."
"They've figured it out?" Fern asked.
Alex nodded with a smile on his lips, "Our reviews planted the seeds of doubt, but from what people are saying now, they felt things were off from the get-go. You've been putting out your work for years now. I still remember you reading stories back during out Lakewood days, and people know your style. You wouldn't suddenly change that much about yourself."
"I'm glad people are seeing it that way, but I don't know what to do about it. I can't write at the moment, and my current projects aren't quite ready for publication," Fern whispered, smiling softly, "But it looks good so far, so that's a plus."
"I've thought about it, and I think you should go back after your book companies and let them know about your situation. Let them know how many copies you sold and how many people were dissatisfied because of the editing. If they can get out a better edition, people will buy it. You just need to convince them, and I want to help you," Alex smiled.
Fern shook her head, "I don't know if you should. I mean, you work for my mother. If she finds out you helped me go against her, she'd fire you, probably after screaming at you for hours."
Alex shrugged, "That's a chance I'm willing to take. Now that I'm taking a good look at things, your mother is excessively controlling, the worst in town. I wouldn't be surprised if most of her deals get made because she gives them no other choice, and I'm surprised you're just now seeing it."
Fern shrank into the beanbag chair, "Well, I've really only been focusing on myself and surviving. College wasn't for me and my books weren't selling, so I just focused on getting an okay job and keeping it so I could save money. I want to buy my own house as soon as I can, even if it's one of those tiny houses. I mean, I want out, obviously, but I've been looking only at that goal and nothing else."
"Well it's time to start looking, for both of us. I just used her as a steady income source, and while I never minded putting together her pamphlets and whatnot, I mind her messing up work for other people. I've learned now that all I have to do is approach them and I'll get my clients. I've already looked for jobs from her old clients, promising to keep their original designs pending how they would turn out after printing, and I've gotten hits. I'm currently helping a bakery she practically ruined when she offered to help them with promotions. I'm getting double what she paid me, and they're actually happy with the work this time," he said, looking Fern square in the eyes, "And now it's your turn."
Fern exhaled slowly and shrugged, "I guess it is. I'll get started on the letters, but what about other projects?"
"You can work on those once you fix this one. Send them the letters, then let them come to you. Then you can show them your mom's version, then yours, and you can get through to them. And if they need more, let me know. I'll figure out a way to help you because we need this," Alex said.
Fern smiled. She'd never had this much help from anyone before, legitimate help from someone who could really get things done. She knew she couldn't let him down, so she would do what he said. She just hoped it could work out in her favor.
Sue Ellen took a deep breath as she picked up the phone. She was calling her mother this time, and she was worried about how the call would go. When her mother answered, Sue Ellen let her guide the conversation, but after a few minutes, Sue Ellen knew she needed to ask them the question that Pierre brought up in her mind: Were her parents scared that she was in France surrounded by possible terroristic threats?
Sue Ellen's mother hesitated at first before sighing, "I…I have been worried, as has your father. We watch the news and hear such terrible things, and while we know you're getting a good education in France, we are worried about how things are going to go."
Suddenly her father jumped into the conversation, "I've been trying to tell her to make you come back but she hasn't wanted to yet. I told her we could pay for everything, but she wants you to finish. You don't have much time left."
"I don't," Sue Ellen agreed, "but what if I did come home without finishing? How upset would that make her?"
"I'd be devastated, but if it's for the best, I'll get over my feelings. Do you want us to start helping you get home?" she asked.
Sue Ellen was about to drop the bombshell that she was already home when the call suddenly ended. Sue Ellen looked to her phone and realized she hadn't checked her battery level before starting the call. Her phone was lifeless, and until she charged it to at least ten percent, she wouldn't be able to turn it on again.
She sighed and cursed herself before moving to her computer. She had a free moment so she went online. After glancing through some tweets from her favorite bands and celebrity gossip sources, she realized there was breaking news from her old university. An attack was happening just blocks away and they were asking students to stay in their rooms or whatever they were. Sue Ellen immediately went to a news website and discovered a major shooting was happening there, a shooting that had killed several people.
Instantly Sue Ellen sent her parents an email, "Sorry, my phone went dead. I just heard about the shooting here. I'm fine, and we'll talk about me coming home later."
She sent the email, which relieved her parents. They too had heard about the breaking news, and they were glad to know their daughter was okay. They agreed to talk later about her coming home, but Sue Ellen knew she wanted to do something she didn't think she'd do when she first decided to come home: She was going to tell them in person. She just didn't know when.
Jenna rubbed her belly as she looked up at the bear sticker. She was sick of that sticker after two days, but she had another problem. She was starting to have contractions, and while they were erratic enough to convince her they were just those "false alarm" contractions her mom and doctor told her about, she knew they were a practice for the real thing. Why was this a problem? Frank had been gone for a little over a day.
After throwing in a Costco pack of cheese crackers with peanut butter and a pack of bottled water, Frank told her he was leaving for a few days. He was leaving her in there because he didn't trust her to stay, but Jenna was worried she was going to go into labor before he would come back.
If she did go into labor, she didn't know what she would do. She knew her body would tell her what to do when it was really time, but she didn't have anything to tie off the cord or wrap the baby in. If she had problems, she would die right there on the floor, killing her baby too if Frank didn't come home in time to save it, if he even would.
Jenna was beginning to regret everything she'd ever done, going all the way back to when she met Frank in the first place. He was fine at first, but within a few months, she knew something was up about him. But she was addicted to his attention, to his warm touch, so addicted that she didn't think twice about leaving home to stay with him. He didn't get really mean for a few more months, when he decided it was time they had sex. She wasn't ready but she felt she couldn't say no. Now that she was pregnant with his child, she wished she would've said no from the beginning.
The baby kicked to bring her back to reality. Jenna looked around the room for a way out, something she'd been doing since he put her there. Nothing was sticking out to her, so like before, she could only sit and look at the mostly barren walls, willing her contractions to hold off until Frank was back to release her.
Muffy was about to leave the office for the day when her father called her into his own. They were about the only two left in the building, and he was the cause of that. Muffy had been digging through piles of work for days, and she was beginning to wonder if her father was testing her after hearing Chip's story. Now that she was being called for a private meeting for the first time in a while, she wondered what it would be about.
"Close the door. We might be seemingly alone, but I know there are a few more deliveries coming, otherwise I wouldn't be here," Ed muttered, watching as his daughter shut the door and stood before him. He gestured towards a chair, "Sit down, sit down. You've probably be standing all day."
Muffy was surprised. Normally he could care less how she felt after a day of work, but as she sat, she noticed a handwritten letter laying on top of everything else. Her stomach flipped as she realized what this conversation was going to be about, and she knew he now had two stories, one from the letter and one from his own son.
"Now, it seems we're having an issue that I didn't realize we were having, or some people think we're having a problem. Are you being overworked? Are you being mistreated?" Ed asked. Muffy swallowed but refused to say anything. Ed smiled, "You're my daughter, muffin. You can tell me anything."
"Is this why I'm here, because yes, I do have work to do?" Muffy inquired, trailing off.
Ed sighed, "Let me get to my point then. I know what happened here. You somehow drummed up a date with this man, and now he thinks you're out escorting yourself for money. If he really thinks that about you, you should correct him to protect your reputation."
"But it's the truth," Muffy said flatly. "I was there that night because he was my client. Otherwise I wouldn't have even known about that party. I barely knew who he was until I met him, and once we talked, he broke things down on his own. And for the record, yes, you have worked me like a dog, like some kind of unknown passing through your office. Well I am your daughter, and if I'm not going to be anything more than just some paper pusher to you, then I guess I'll have to find some other way to make a living. I don't care if you like my choices. It's not your life, and you've made that plain in clear since my last semester of college."
Ed was taken aback by his daughter's confession. He thought this was a lie because he believed his son, but hearing the confirmation from his daughter almost made him sick. He even had her explanation, but he was still in a state of disbelief. Why would his daughter lower herself to that level?
"Now if you'll excuse me," Muffy said fiercely, standing up to leave.
"But why? Why would you do something like that?"
"Most of the time I'm just showing people a little compassion, accompanying them places or spending time with them when no one else will. I don't see how that's degrading, especially when I'm getting my life back," Muffy smirked. She started to walk away but stopped and turned around, "And once I find something better than this hellhole, I'll be marching out that door in a heartbeat, and yes, I'll be going online to tell people what a miserable experience I had here. If the daughter of the CEO was treated that badly, do you think all those hot young prospects you want are going to come here? And once your possible clients find out, do you think they'll really choose you to do business with? Think about it, daddy. You really screwed up treating us the way you did and if you haven't figured it out by now, you will figure it out later, and no, you won't like the results."
Muffy marched out before he could respond. While she felt better than she had in weeks, months, maybe even years, she knew there would likely be consequences for what she felt was an outburst of emotions. She needed to tell her father how she felt according to all of the psychology classes she'd taken and all the advice she'd read in magazine articles or self-help books, but she wondered how this would go even if it did feel good.
Ladonna was reading outside to prepare for the following day's classes when an unfamiliar car pulled up the driveway. It wasn't time for another nurse to arrive yet, so Ladonna knew this was one of those unwanted visitors she was worried about. Sure enough, when the car stopped, Beverly got out with a pie, a dish towel on top to keep the bugs from getting to it.
"Hey, Ladonna. I hope you don't mind me dropping by like this. I don't want to go in or anything, but I had this extra pie from last night that I thought you'd want," Beverly smiled, setting it next to Ladonna on the porch. "It's apple, but it's not a traditional recipe. Let me know how you like it."
"I will, thank you," Ladonna nodded.
Beverly shifted, "Well, I'm glad you're about to start out there with me. We start training tomorrow, correct?"
"Yes, tomorrow afternoon," Ladonna replied, "I have classes in the morning, maybe a test or a quiz. They don't always tell you what they're up to, those professors."
Beverly laughed, "Well, I went to culinary school for a little while, so I sorta get it. They were always pretty honest with us, at least most of the time. They would give us open assignments to test our creativity and our overall knowledge of foods and flavor combinations. That's how I figured out I was a pastry chef, not a real chef. I can put together a pie or a cake and it'll taste perfect, but a main dish? They said it was horrible, and I couldn't do all that fine restaurant stuff. I'm into Southern soul food, when you heap them mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans onto a plate next to a piece of fried chicken and call it a day."
"Same here," Ladonna agreed, "but it seems like you've done well without college. I wish I could say the same, but I guess I'll need it, probably a little more than this since I'm not really happy with my degree. I used to think it'd be fun to be a receptionist, but now I don't think I'll enjoy it very much."
"It's tough work, but it's money, more money than I'll be able to pay you right now. Things always work out though, no matter what happens," Beverly said, eying the house as something dropped inside. "I've had experience with this. I had an uncle with dementia for about nine years before he died. Those were long, hard years for my extended family, and that's why I haven't spread your business. I only brought this pie because I can't keep taking them to my momma all the time," Beverly grinned, "I know what you're going through, and I know to leave things be. And I know to tell you it gets better eventually but it takes time and a lot of hard work, but I think you already know that. You Compson kids have always been tough as nails, and that's the only reason I hired you on the spot without legitimate references or a résumé. I know who you are without all that paperwork, and I look forward to working with you."
With that, Beverly waved, got into her car, and left the house. Ladonna took the pie inside, walking past her mother's bedroom to see what was going on. Her mother had knocked everything off her nightstand, but things were okay now and luckily nothing was broken. Ladonna nodded and moved outside, but she was bothered by the incident. She moved into her bedroom and got onto her computer. After a few minutes she was able to pull up the video of the incident. Sure enough, the nurse was trying to help her to the bathroom, but her mother decided to knock everything off the table and fight off this stranger. She ended up in the bathroom herself, the door closed while the nurse waited outside. She cleaned while she waited, and soon her mother returned clean and taken care of. She barely acknowledged the nurse before settling back into bed, picking up a book, and reading as if nothing had even happened.
Ladonna was relieved that nothing had gone wrong, but she was still nervous about not being there despite the cameras and the professionalism Magnolia Springs had exhibited so far. Beverly and her family was right that she needed to move on, and she hoped working with Beverly would help her pull away from home a little further. She needed to find herself, and while she felt guilty for leaving home, she knew she had to while she still could.
Bitzi sipped her soda while she looked the restaurant over. She was meeting up with Tanya after hours to discuss a story they had recently covered that stirred up controversy online. Tanya was the leading investigator behind the information, but with the community's response, Bitzi had already questioned her about her sources. Now they were having dinner together to discuss things further, at least that was their cover. Really they needed to gossip about relationships. Despite Bitzi's desire to stay as far away from Buster's relationship with Palladia as possible, she wanted to know what the girl was saying. And since she and Tanya had lunch together the day before, Bitzi knew she would have information.
When Tanya entered, she placed her order with the waiter, as did Bitzi, before getting down to business. As Bitzi wanted, the conversation was instantly on who she wanted to discuss:
"So I had lunch with Palladia yesterday. She said you really pissed them off by shooting down their engagement, but now she's thinking you're right. She said Buster can be immature at times, and she worries that moving in with him for good will only reveal more problems," Tanya grinned, "I don't think you broke them up, but you certainly made her think."
Bitzi shook her head, "I didn't want to break them up. I struggle to find love myself, and I want the best for both of them, but I had to bring it up. I'm glad they're thinking like real adults now instead of characters in some sort of fairytale."
Tanya laughed, "She admitted to me they were both thinking a little crazy when they talked to you. Getting married all of the sudden is a huge step, especially when you barely know someone. I mean, they just met. I think they should take things slower and really get to know each other, then decide what to do."
"My point exactly," Bitzi nodded, "That's what I wanted to tell them, but I was being truthful when I told them I'm out of the equation. What they do isn't my concern. I have my own issues."
Tanya grinned, "Everyone knows you've got someone staked out, but no one's seen you around town or heard about who you're with. Rumor has it you're dating someone Buster's age at your condo, but since none of us live around there, we don't know who comes and goes from there. I told them you wouldn't, but it's up to you to fix that."
"I would never date someone my son's age, even if they were richer than Heaven," Bitzi said, shaking her head with a grin on her face, "But I don't know if I want to admit things yet. I mean, not to the whole group."
"Well I don't feel the need to tell them anything, so if you want to talk, please, tell me everything you can. Maybe I can help you out. I've tried some questionable ways to date, which is why I just don't really mind being single anymore. I'd rather not fight anymore and fail, you know?"
"I do know, and that's why I tried the whole online dating thing, which was a disaster. But now I think I've found the worst thing of all. I met a guy in a forum and started talking with him in private. Now we're trying to meet, and he says he's got a seminar coming up in Metropolis that I can meet him at, but I just…I've watched that MTV show Catfish, so I know what could be going on. We've never chatted using a webcam or talked on the phone. We only text or type, so who knows who he is? I mean, I searched his name and found real profiles, but what if they're faking it? I feel so sick, and I just know I won't get to see him at any seminar."
"But you care about him?" Tanya asked.
"Of course I do! He's all I think about some days. I've never felt like this, not since high school at least, and I just…part of me knows this could all be a sham, but part of me wonders if I could find love with someone other than the persona if they are faking. Is that crazy?" Bitzi questioned.
Tanya shrugged, "Depends on who they are. If they're some sick-minded teenager, I know you'll head for the hills because we just covered that topic. If they're older but seem decent enough, despite all the lies of course about being someone else, then maybe you can make it work. My advice is to not get your hopes up. I've never been catfished, but I've heard so many stories, and it's not something you should let destroy your life. I think you're handling this with enough skepticism to make it work or to move on depending on how it turns out."
"See, this is the conversation I was hoping for when I finally told someone about my situation. I just really don't want anyone else to find out yet. They might think I'm crazy for falling for someone online like this," Bitzi said, blushing slightly as she heard herself say the words.
Tanya smiled, "Well, I'll tell you a little secret. You know that island wedding we all ended up missing because of how expensive it was to fly there? They met online, and now they have two kids in three years. I mean, Catie was always a little strange, but marrying a guy she met on EHarmony? I never thought I'd see it work, but it did, and they're happy, even though he said he had hair when he didn't and she lied about her age," Tanya winked.
Bitzi smiled as they food arrived. With their personal conversation over, they did discuss the controversy behind Tanya's story. Apparently social media was behind the extra rumors and biased opinions, and Bitzi accepted the situation. They finished their dinner happily, and when Bitzi went home, she was content with her situation, no matter how it would eventually turn out.
Belinda was happy with her new position. Her patients were wonderful, and her workplace was far more organized than she'd ever had at the hospital. Everything was exactly how she would want it, and she felt more energized than she'd ever felt when she finished her shifts, and she was actually eager to go back the next morning. She was enjoying picking up her daughter from school and spending more time with her husband, and life seemed great.
But Belinda kept replaying her conversation with Shayna in her head. She had no idea things at the hospital were that awful despite the rumors she'd heard in the last few years. She knew the hospital was in trouble because they were losing money and patients, but a merger and complete shakeup was not something anyone could predict. Worst of all, Belinda filled the last available spot in her new job. She wouldn't be able to help anyone, even her good friend Shayna, using her new position.
As she considered the situation, she decided she needed to just do what she said and talk to Anita at the ice cream shop. So that Saturday when she was off, she stopped by the shop. She found Anita in her office working the books, and judging by the lines on her forehead, she was very stressed. She let Belinda speak first, but then she told Belinda the bad news—her new Metropolis location was in limbo, and she blamed Doria Walters for the problem.
"Wow, so many things are going wrong right now," Belinda whispered, shaking her head.
Anita squinted, "What else is there? That sounded heavy."
"Yeah, quite heavy," Belinda sighed, shaking her head again as she sank into a chair, "I called an old coworker of mine to see how things were going at the hospital. It's awful. They're about to merge, and when they do, they're clearing out everyone. I thought I could get her a spot at my new job, but they already have plenty of people without me even being there. I can't help them, and I'm petrified for them."
"Whoa, that is quite the problem. A merger? I've seen nothing about this in the newspaper. I take it's a secret merger?" Anita questioned. Belinda nodded, and Anita shook her head, "I can't believe this. You need to break that story to the newspaper. I'm sure if Bitzi's still there, she'll hear you out, and she'll keep your identity a secret. I'm tempted to go to her myself about Doria Walters. I thought she was such a nice woman, but she tried to change my ideas, and now I think she's behind me losing this property. I called the seller myself and discovered she didn't submit some of the paperwork he asked for. And have you heard about her daughter's book?"
"No, Fern wrote a book?" Belinda asked.
"Yeah, and I think you should get a copy to see what she did. That's not Fern's work. She did whatever she wanted, and I'm sure the cover was altered because it doesn't make any sense either. I think she has control problems, and I'm tempted to change realtors and blow the whistle on her. I mean, I've found online reviews for Fern's book calling her out, but no one from her realty side of things has said anything."
"I guess you could be the first. Bitzi should hear us out if we can get an appointment with her," Belinda said, standing up with a sigh, "Well, I didn't expect this, just as you didn't expect the stuff with the hospital. I'll come by regularly so we can keep in touch. I don't really have much time to get on the computer lately, so in-person should be enough. I'll add you if you add me though," Belinda smiled. Anita nodded, and after serving her with a cup of chocolate ice cream with whipped cream on top. Belinda decided to take it with her, namely so she could sit alone in her car and take things in.
Anita made some Hamburger Helper and brought a bowl to her computer. She pulled up Facebook, and after sending a request to Belinda Barnes, she checked her pending connections. Lydia Fox was no longer on the list, giving Anita access to her page. She was working at a children's museum in Metropolis in a room made especially to give able-bodied children the experience of being disabled. Anita was proud of her work, and she was eager to start a conversation with her.
Lydia was online, and after a few light messages about typical things, most importantly her job, Anita decided to directly ask her about her son and what happened. After a few minutes of Anita eating and waiting, Lydia finally responded with a long answer:
"I have no idea what happened with him. We hung out often, then he left for graduate school. Things were really good at first, but suddenly he stopped talking to everyone. I found out somehow that he'd left school, but I have no idea where he went. All I know is that he's not online anymore, and no one has talked to him in ages. It scares me because we were really close. I thought he was going to ask me out before he left, or maybe try to maintain a relationship so we could get together when he came back, but now that he's missing, I don't know what's happening. I'm really worried about him, so anything you can tell me would be awesome."
Anita was worried by her response. If Alan and Lydia were that close, why would he depart from her so quickly? Add on that he never talked about her, and Anita knew there was probably something to their relationship. He'd learned from experience not to let his feelings show or Anita and James would pick at him, so whenever he got serious about a girl, he'd never talk about her or let on that he even knew her.
Anita told Lydia everything she could about Alan, namely where he was and what he was doing, and she too ended with a request: help her figure out why he'd suddenly leave like that.
Almost an hour later, Lydia responded, "I think I know what happened. About a year ago, someone told everyone I killed myself. In reality I'd had surgery and disappeared for a while, so it was a few months before I could fix things. When I tried to contact Alan, he'd vanished too. I wonder if he thinks I really did kill myself and he's grieving."
Anita's face lit up despite the grim story. She quickly replied, "I think you're onto something. The next time I talk to him, I'll ask him about you and try to broach the subject easily. Maybe there's something to this theory of yours."
Lydia thanked her, and with that settled, Anita decided to curl up in bed with a book. As she got settled, her phone buzzed. She checked it and found a message from her husband's lawyer. James's hearing was moved up for the next morning, and he wanted her to be there. Anita decided she should go, but she wouldn't necessarily be on her husband's side. He needed help, more help than she could provide, namely because she knew if he didn't stop, he'd probably kill someone. Taking away his stash wasn't enough, so maybe jail time and rehab would be.
Molly struggled to get through her day. She felt zapped of energy, yet she had morning classes and an afternoon of work. She tried to remain as chipper as possible, but once she got home, all she wanted to do was go to bed. She wasn't even hungry; she was just as exhausted as she could be.
Around seven, James came home with a few pizzas from work. He said they closed early so the owner could go to a skate competition a few hours away, and they'd had pizza for lunch, so he let him take them home. He offered a slice to Molly, who attempted to eat some of the cheese, but a strange aftertaste made her pull away. She did stay on the couch with her brother, who popped in a DVD of his favorite show. He tried to have Molly pick an episode, but she wasn't even interested. She covered herself with a soft blanket and tried to dose.
But as she sat there, she felt his eyes on her, and she could sense the worry in his glances. She decided to make an attempt to look chipper, so she started watching the show, and she would even laugh with him despite how horrible she felt. When the episode was over, James offered a second one, but Molly suggested they go to bed early for once so they could have more energy. James accepted, but she could tell he was still worried.
As she lay in bed trying to go to sleep, she heard James enter the room. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched his sister closely. Molly looked up and noticed tears in his eyes.
"James, the chemo is going to make me feel awful, but it doesn't mean I won't wake up in the morning. I might feel run-down, and I might not have much energy, but I'm okay, I promise. Things have to get worse before they get better," Molly smiled.
"It just looks so bad," James whimpered.
"I know it does, and it doesn't feel that good either. But we're going to get through this, I promise you," Molly smiled, welcoming him into her bed. He'd only slept with her once before, the night they got the news about their mother. He stayed with her a few weeks before he felt safe enough to go back to his own bed, but Molly knew this was different. James needed to be near his sister, and he needed to feel she was still alive, even if she felt like twice warmed over leftovers shoved in the back of the fridge.
Prunella started her job at the dealership with paperwork. After getting a short tour of the establishment, she was given paperwork to look over and put into their computer system. It was easy work, far below her education level, but Prunella knew it was important work. Best of all, the weight of the world wasn't on her shoulders. People were demanding things of her while she worked, and she found herself done with the first stack of paperwork within a few hours.
When she asked for more work, she found that there was none, so Prunella spent time working on her desk, trying to see what she wanted to do with the small space. Others had figurines from their favorite cartoon characters, movies, or books, and a few even had small movie posters framed on the side of their cubicles. An older woman had a few old photographs and several small paintings, and another older man had a collection of antique keys around his workspace.
Prunella used a legal pad to jot down ideas. When she was stuck, she'd look out to the passing cars, a light smile on her face. She hadn't had an office with legitimate windows in a long time, ever really, and she was glad to be able to see the outside world again.
Despite the day being boring in the end, Prunella was happy for the change, even if her old job continued to bug her about coming back. She refused to respond to them. She hadn't taken any keys or important documents, only her personal things, and she'd left them written instructions on the most important things she did in a day. They didn't need her anymore.
And the lack of stress helped her sleep a little more soundly, and Prunella felt her mind calm back to a level she felt was normal. She was grateful for this, namely because Rubella's time at the rehab home was short lived. She had a violent outburst that confirmed the medication was not working the way it should, and she was back in the hospital for her safety and the safety of others. Dr. Mano sounded confident he could work things out, but Prunella was deeply worried for her sister. She was in trouble because of her mental illness, and Prunella did not want to end up in her situation.
As she warmed up some leftovers and settled in to watch television, Prunella felt like life was good. She could forget about her hallucinations and her sister's troubles because she knew she'd be okay. She just had to keep herself in check, and if she got the urge to uproot herself again, she knew she'd be able to without many consequences. Her pay was similar, so she wasn't at risk of running out of money before all her bills were paid. Life was fine, and Prunella was happy.
With Anthony back on her side, Marina was able to feel better about her mission, for the most part. As she prepared for dinner with Anthony's father, she wondered what she was even doing. She was about to attempt to coerce a man into attempting another deal with a company that seemed to want nothing to do with him, and worst of all, she was paired with his son to do so. Marina felt as if she was being overly manipulative, but deep down she knew this was the best option. Mary was right—if they didn't find another buyer or if the grants came in too late, all of their work would be in vain.
Anthony picked her up when he said he was, and soon she was at a house she could tell was huge. Her footsteps echoed, but they took a moment to get back to her, and unlike most houses, she could take a wide sweep with her cane without touching anything. She wished she could see the place she was in, but seeing that they were in a sitting room first, then a dining room with servants bringing in the food, she knew this was probably the most lavish house she'd ever been inside, and she had been to Muffy's house a few times.
After dinner, the three of them retired to a den Anthony's father used as an office. His father chewed a cigar as Anthony explained the situation to his father. He then turned to Marina to explain her work with Mary:
"I've been working with a friend of mine who writes grants. The last time we spoke, she warned me that our work might not pay off. If the school closed before the grants can pay off, if we even get them in the first place, the school will not be able to benefit. We're aware that you tried to acquire the school in the past, but now we're hoping you can try again. The owners have confronted the fact that the school has little chance of surviving much longer, and you've wanted to expand into this market," Marina explained, smiling softly, "And I've done research on you with Mary's help. I think you'd be the perfect new owner because you actually care about the children. I just hope people can look past your wealth to see the man there. Many of these people are like me in that they only have experience with rich people like Ed Crosswire—"
"Who is a terrible example," Anthony's father agreed. "Well, I wouldn't mind reconsidering, but I don't think I can afford their prices. I doubt they're going to go down, and I only wanted to spend a fixed amount acquiring the property so that I could afford the changes and renovations I'd want to make."
"We were hoping that these grants could benefit you instead," Anthony interjected, "Because they'd be going to the school for whatever uses Mary specifies in her grant, you could use that money instead of your own, making it easier to spend a little more money acquiring the place."
"But these grants are for specific purposes, and they need to match my desires if I'd be willing to use them for my version of the school," Anthony's father said.
Marina nodded, "I understand that, and I'd like to have meetings with you and Mary to get things settled. Because Anthony and I work there on a regular basis, we can help tweak the ideas to work best for the children."
"I like that idea, I really do," Anthony's father nodded. "It sounds like we have a deal. Once I have a meeting with this Mary person to discuss the numbers, then I'll reapproach the school to see what I can do. Then we fight, because I doubt there will be much of a wait. These guys were adamant before. Maybe this time they'll be a little less likely to hold on."
Marina left the house confident that her plan was working, and the ride back with Anthony felt far more comfortable than she thought. She enjoyed the thought of spending more time with him and his family, though she couldn't understand why.
Carla had a hard time convincing her husband that they couldn't just go to the police about their daughter. Jenna left on their own accord to a place they weren't sure the address of, and while she likely needed help, there was nothing they could do. This caused a struggle to form, one they kept silently to themselves. Just like before Jenna's return, the house took on a level of silence usually only found at cemeteries. Neither of them had anything to say about anything, and they tried to make as little noise as possible as they went about their day so as not to disturb the other's thoughts.
Both of Jenna's parents found themselves wandering into the nursery. While they had put together a crib and placed a rocking chair in the corner of the room, most of the items were still in boxes or bags, even the clothes they'd bought for the baby. Carla put them away three days later, then she organized the diapers in the closet. Her husband silently built the changing table in the middle of the night, placing it under the window so the baby could look up and see the world.
They didn't say it, but they both felt as if that baby was gone forever. They doubted Jenna would give it up, and because of what she'd said about Frank, they half expected both of them to die in his hands. They hated admitting these feelings, but they had no choice but to confront them. Days passed with no signs of Jenna or Frank, and the only thing they could do was go in and out of the nursery, slowly piecing it together despite their theory that no child would ever get to use it.
On the fifth day, Carla knew she had to keep going. She went to work like normal, then she ran by the grocery store to get things for dinner. She ran into her husband there who had the same plan. They decided to flip a coin when they got home to see who would cook. Carla won, so she put together a homemade lasagna with a tossed salad and a bottle of red wine. The next night her husband prepared burgers on their backyard grill.
Despite their hard feelings, they had no choice. Their hearts were heavy, but they needed to work. They needed to live their lives, and while they hated that they were seemingly ignoring their only daughter and her unborn child, they knew they were only doing this because of her own actions. They felt Frank had coerced her away, but it was Jenna who left. They had to accept that fact, even if it was hard to swallow.