Читать книгу Abandoned - John Schlarbaum - Страница 6

Trillia Johnston had struggled all her adult life to come to terms with the choices she’d made since high school. Never the classic beauty by definition, she’d been a popular student, particularly with the boys who liked tall, lanky and well-endowed dirty blondes. Her string of boyfriends during her teen years and one semester at university should have, but hadn’t, prepared her for the following two decades of romances found and lost, then found and lost again. Her love life had turned out to be an unmitigated failure: married to a struggling musician; divorced; engaged to an equally inept novelist who left her at the altar in a wedding dress that couldn’t conceal her pregnancy; and finally, being widowed when her absent-minded husband mechanic didn’t lock off a lift being used to remove a beater’s engine, which promptly landed on his chest as he was outstretched on the shop’s floor.

Despite these crushing heartbreaks, Trillia had survived and thrived in the areas that would define her as a good mother, a respected career woman and a loyal friend. Her daughter, Harmony Jane, had finished a two-year business administration course and was seeking marketing opportunities with local radio and television stations in Lunsden, a mid-sized city five hours away.

At The Buckster Stops Here liquidation store where she’d worked for nine years, Trillia had recently been promoted to Assistant Junior Manager. The new title required her to carry out additional duties, like staff scheduling, which added 3-4 hours to her own work week. At first she was upset, until she figured out as a salaried employee she could streamline the store’s operation and work fewer hours for more money. However, two pays into this lofty position had revealed the complete opposite. When she considered returning to her old position, she was told she’d be forced to leave the Buckster family. “We don’t employ quitters here,” the Junior Manager had replied in a harsh tone.

“Is that legal? Can they do that? I heard a radio commercial where a woman was in the same situation and she hired this law office to fight for her.” Elaine Stanton drank a mouthful of her tepid green tea, as Trillia joined her at the kitchen table. “I don’t remember the firm’s name, but I’m certain any lawyer could help you out, Trill. Maybe they would do it pro bono.”

“I doubt any lawyer truly works for free, unless I killed the store owner, then maybe,” Trillia said with a sigh, as she lifted her cup to her lips, inhaling the birthday cake flavoured coffee before taking a sip. “This is tasty. I might buy another box tomorrow, ‘cause once they’re gone, they’re gone forever,” she laughed, having repeated the store’s signature slogan.

“That’s the problem with liquidation places. The shelves are jammed with items the public has already deemed not good. It’s like buying last year’s unfashionable clothes at the close-out stores at the mall. Every month there’s a new pile of jeans and tops at half price,” Elaine said. “I don’t know how they can do that.”

Trillia smiled. “Two words: tax breaks. I’ve learned all about them since getting my promotion.” She pushed her mug toward Elaine. “Take this coffee, for instance. The company that makes it decides it’s not going to be a money maker and stops production. Unfortunately, they have 100,000 single-serve cups collecting dust in the warehouse. They then write off the inventory as an expense and sell it to stores like Bucky’s for ten cents a cup. Bucky’s then turns around and sells it at sixty cents a cup!”

“What? That’s like a 40% profit,” Elaine said shaking her head. “I wish I owned a Bucky’s store, instead of working in the hospital kitchen. I’d be rich.”

“You would if you got your employees to work extra hours for free, like me.” Trillia stood and walked to her purse on the counter, where she retrieved two $20 bills, which she handed to Elaine. “Here’s the money for the flowers. Are you positive they got to Jake’s aunt’s room?”

Elaine shoved the bills into her pocket. “I delivered them on my break. A dozen yellow carnations. She was asleep when I came in the room and I left them on the window sill.”

“Thank you. I’ll let Jake know,” Trillia said, relieved. “Did you remember to make out the card? Jake was adamant the message be word for word.”

“’All the best, Helga! See you soon!’ as requested. I wrote it myself so there weren’t any mistakes. I don’t get why Jake didn’t want his name on it.”

“He said she would know who they were from,” Trillia said.

“So,” Elaine began, “when am I going to meet this new mystery man? Are you hiding him for some reason? I swear I’ll be nice.”

Trillia took a final mouthful of coffee and put the empty cup in the sink. “You will,” she lied. “He’s got a lot of meetings all over the country in the next few weeks and can’t drop them to see little ol’ me.”

Taking the cue that their coffee visit was coming to a close, Elaine finished her tea and placed her mug by Trillia’s. “But he hasn’t seen you in person. What if he’s a she? You’ve watched Catfish. It happens all the time on that show with internet hook-ups.”

“The difference is that I’ve talked to Jake using video messaging, unlike the idiots on Catfish who only text or chat online.”

“Sure you’ve talked, but haven’t felt him yet,” Elaine said playfully.

“I will in the near future,” Trillia replied. “Love and travel schedules take time to work out, that’s all.”

Elaine gave Trillia a hug and they walked to the back door. “Have a great day. I need to get ready for my afternoon shift.”

Trillia held open the door as Elaine stepped off the porch. “Can you check on Jake’s aunt with her nurse and give me a call later?”

“I’ll give you a shout after my rounds. I’m on dinner tray delivery duties, so I’ll be on the eighth floor anyway.”

“Perfect. We're doing inventory tonight, so leave a message on my cell phone if I don’t answer.”

Trillia waved to Elaine as she walked across their shared driveway and into her house. Trillia was glad she had such a good neighbour to talk with on a daily basis, even if their one common thread was bad luck with men. Elaine kept saying she was in a loveless marriage, but never made plans to leave her husband Bruce, despite the fact they had no children or substantial wealth to divide. Elaine was now living vicariously through Trillia’s life in the dating world. From the moment Jake’s name was spoken, Elaine’s interest hit an all-time high.

“You better not be holding back any juicy details, girlfriend,” she’d warned one morning.

“I’m not,” came Trillia’s modest protest.

Of course her on-going affair with Jake was a big lie, at least in the conventional sense. He did exist and over the past year had professed his undying love for her in emails, letters and cards. And Trillia had heard his voice, knew his speech patterns and what he looked like. She even had an opinion of how long his sandy brown hair should be for optimal hotness.

By the end of his televised murder trial with its guilty verdict, she was convinced that she’d found her soul mate.

The hard part was finding a way to make this relationship last.