Moments in Time: The Complete Novella Collection Page 3

“I’m here to see the room that’s being advertised.”

  He extracted a set of keys from his pocket. “Sure, follow me.”

  “Do you have a job?” he asked, as we climbed the worn-out stairs.

  Dust particles rose and tickled my nostrils to a sneeze. “Excuse me.” I sniffed. “Yes, I do have a job.”

  The man nodded and stopped at the door marked 3. “Come on, then. Let me show you the room. See if you like it.”

  The room was tiny and airless with a threadbare carpet. Mismatched pieces of furniture stood in odd places, as if someone had been in the process of rearranging them and changed their mind.

  Walking through the sitting room, I ignored the spring sticking through the shabby striped couch. Inside the kitchenette, I ran a finger across the top of the small fridge with a missing handle. At least the place was clean. Besides, it was simply a place to start.

  “There’s a shared bathroom at the end of the hallway and a kitchen on the main floor.” The caretaker gulped down his coffee.

  Having lived in an orphanage and a homeless shelter, I had no problem with sharing. As long as, at the end of the day, I had privacy in my own room. This was better than living on the street.

  Six months after we’d started dating, Chris had suggested I move in with him. He insisted on taking care of me, paying all the bills, working as a self-employed IT specialist, while I spent the money I earned waitressing on college tuition. We lived together for two years. He proposed on our second anniversary. Four months later, I lost him and was thrown out of our apartment in the thick of night. Apparently, he hadn’t paid the rent for several months. With no one to turn to and little money, I spent two nights on the street. Then Lynnette found me and offered me a place to stay. Unable to afford my studies, I dropped out of college and moved to the shelter permanently.

  Or not so permanently, I thought, looking around me.

  “You’ll find no cheaper fully furnished room around here,” the caretaker said.

  Having read through other adverts, I agreed. “How much is the deposit?”

  “Four months’ rent.”

  Since I’d had no major financial responsibilities on my shoulders at Oasis, so my meager waitressing salary had accumulated enough for me to pay rent for a couple of months. But I wasn’t ready to hand over more than three months’ deposit.

  “Are you interested?”

  “Yes, but I can only give you three months’ deposit. I just started my job, and I haven’t been paid yet.”

  He raised a bushy eyebrow. “I’m afraid you have to pay the full deposit in cash.”

  “I understand, but I don’t have much money on me right now. But I can get it. I need a few days.” My voice broke. I was venturing into the unknown, and the money I had on me, however little, was my only security.

  He scratched the bald island on his head and sighed. “What’s your name?”

  “Carlene Adams.” I paused. “I need a place to stay tonight. I—”

  “Have nowhere to go?” He finished my sentence, as if he’d heard it all before.

  “Yes,” I lied. Oasis would always take me back, but I wanted to prove to Lynnette and Melisa that I could survive outside its walls.

  The caretaker studied my face for a while and placed his mug on top of the fridge. “I’m not supposed to do this, Carlene, but you seem like a nice, honest person. Give me what you have and pay the rest within a month, along with the first rent payment.”

  “Thank you so much…”

  “George,” he said with a toothless smile.

  “George.” I grinned. “I’ll get you the money, I promise.”

  “Good. The room is yours. You can move in anytime.”

  Ten minutes later, I’d signed a lease, handed George the money I had, and flew out of the building. I felt so good; I could almost pretend to be normal, like everyone else I passed on the street.

  As planned, I moved into my new apartment before nightfall.

  In the middle of the night, while lying on my bed, I thought of Nick. I had no idea who he was, where he was from, or what such an expensive-looking man had been doing in a small chapel in the poorer section of Serendipity. But in a strange way, I missed him—as if he had been a piece of me that had gone missing.

  Chapter Five

  As the last dinner guests left, I sighed and began rinsing the glasses behind the bar while my colleague, a German woman with a svelte figure and a limited English vocabulary, counted her tips at a corner table. I had made good tips myself. Sometimes during my breaks, I would sneak to the toilets to count them. I’d been working at the Surry Hotel for a month, and the tips covered half of my rent. As promised, I’d paid George what I owed him, which pleased him so much, he offered me an old television set he wasn’t using.

  In the changing rooms, I slipped out of my black-and-white uniform and into my own clothes—a pair of jeans and a beige T-shirt. Finally, I combed the knots out of my long hair and redid my ponytail. I looked forward to a quiet night at home with a pizza and an episode of Friends.

  Outside, I stopped at the entrance and inhaled the warm summer night air. I was startled when a woman who smelled of lilies bumped right into me.

  “Excuse me.” She gave me an apologetic smile and hurried off to a red Mercedes parked across the street, in front of the Lux Hotel.

  I stared after her, admiring her flowing hair, which looked like spun gold in the moonlight. She had to be in her fifties, and looked amazing.

  The woman slid into the backseat of the car and leaned forward toward the man behind the wheel. He must have said something funny because she threw back her head and laughed.

  How would it feel to laugh like that, with no shadows of the past hanging over my head?

  As I moved forward, I stepped on something bulky. I looked down to see a sleek leather purse. The woman must have dropped it when we collided. Her car was still sitting there. If I hurried, I could return it to her.

  How much money could be inside? Curiosity drove me to pick it up and take a peek. I blinked as a wad of bills enticed me.

  A sudden thought crossed my mind. I could take it all. The woman might not even notice the purse was missing until later. Finders keepers, right? I could just walk away. The thought of what I could do with the money skyrocketed my heart rate. I’d be able to pay my rent and save what I earned instead.

  Suppressing my surfacing guilt, I began walking deliberately in the direction opposite the woman’s parked car. But then I halted. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t a thief, and I’d done enough wrongs in my life.

  If I walked away with the money, the guilt would eat away at me forever. Just like Chris’s death. From the looks of her, the owner might not need the money as much as I did, but it would be wrong to take it. It wasn’t mine.

  I swiveled on my heel and caught sight of the car reversing from its parking spot.

  Gesturing with my arms in the air, I ran toward it. I caught up in time and knocked on the woman’s window.

  The car stopped moving, and she rolled down the window and gazed up at me with grey eyes. “Can I help you?”

  “I think this belongs to you.” I raised the purse.

  Her well-manicured eyebrows shot up. “Goodness, yes. I must have dropped it.” She reached for it. “Thank you so much for returning it. How very kind.”

  “No problem.” I stepped away from the car.

  “How can I repay you?” She leafed through the notes. “How much?”

  “You owe me nothing.” It would be too embarrassing to ask for any amount. What if I asked for less than she had planned to give me? Or if I asked for too much and she ended up thinking I was taking advantage of her generosity? It wouldn’t be a big deal if I walked away with nothing. Every selfless act of kindness I did for someone was a chance for me to pay for my crimes.

  “How about this?” She pulled out a bunch of notes, maybe a quarter of what was in the purse.

  I hesitated, and to my horror—and hidden delight
—she reached out of the car and pushed the money into one of my jeans pockets.

  “Can I offer you a lift?” She tilted her head to one side and her hair tumbled across her shoulder like a silk curtain.

  “Thank you, but no need to go out of your way. I’ll take a taxi.”

  What I wanted was for her to leave so I could count the money that was now burning a hole in my pocket.

  “It wouldn’t be a bother at all. Where do you live?”

  “Not very far.”

  “Well, get in. If you won’t tell me, how about you show me? Come on, get in.” She let out a bubbling laugh.

  “Okay.” I climbed into the car and inhaled the cocktail of expensive perfume, hairspray, and leather.

  “Before Frank drops you off, how about we have coffee together at my house?”

  “That would be nice.” Two coffee dates with strangers in the last couple of weeks? But I couldn’t say no. This woman enthralled me. My body buzzed with excitement at the thought of soon finding out where and how she lived. The luxury surrounding me didn’t have to come to an end just yet.

  I gazed out the window as the city lights led us to an elite part of town with lush lawns, high walls, and luxury cars parked in front of metal gates.

  Her spectacular house overlooked the sea and had an English garden and brick patios.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you that coffee I promised.” She waved at a cream sectional couch and left the living room.

  My feet sank into the thick, shaggy carpet. The room featured floor-length windows and hand-painted ceilings. I ran my palm along the silk curtains with embroidered patterns and velvet trim—so soft and luxurious.

  Distracted by all the beautiful things, I walked too close to a table and knocked over a ceramic vase. As I caught it and placed it back on the glass tabletop, I heard the woman returning.

  In a swift motion, I dived onto the couch and grabbed a magazine, pretending to be calm. As if I’d been in a house like this before and it was no big deal.

  She laid the tray filled with a variety of cookies on the glass coffee table. “Since you’re a guest in my house, I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Lilliana Stalford.”

  Her name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “I’m Carlene Adams,” I said and accepted a gold-trimmed, porcelain coffee cup.

  “Lovely name. What do you do, Carlene?” Lilliana asked.

  “I waitress at the Surry Hotel restaurant.”

  “Waitressing.” She eased into the couch with her own cup. “You look like you’re capable of so much more.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should take that as a compliment or be offended. What if I told her I’d worked and lived in a homeless shelter? “I enjoy waitressing.”

  Lilliana sipped her coffee and, remembering mine, I did the same. “What did you study?” she asked.

  “Marketing and sales.” I left out the part that I didn’t graduate.

  “Marketing and sales,” she repeated, staring into space for a moment, then placed her cup back in its saucer. “I would like to repay your honesty. Carlene, tell me, do you like jewelry?”

  What woman didn’t like jewelry? “I do.”

  “I’d like to make you a job offer.”

  “Me?” I asked.

  Lilliana let out a peal of laughter and nodded. “My husband and I own a chain of jewelry stores. Maybe you’ve heard of Stalford Jewelry? How would you like to work in our Serendipity store? It just so happens we’re looking for an additional sales associate. You’d be perfect. Would you be interested?”

  I placed my cup on the saucer with a shaking hand. No wonder her name had sounded familiar. She owned one of the most well-known luxury jewelry retailers, and she had just offered me a job.

  The familiar image of a powder pink box with a white ribbon tied around it flashed through my mind and I bit down on a smile. “Yes, I’d love to work for you. Thank you.” I’d be a fool not to accept such an offer, right?

  “Perfect. I’ll call Sam Doherty, the Serendipity store manager, first thing in the morning.”

  The next half an hour was spent discussing the specifics of my new job over the remainder of the coffee. Lilliana was a warm and kind person. I silently thanked my guilty conscience for forcing me to return the purse to her.

  When it was time for me to leave, I stood, and the magazine I’d grabbed earlier dropped to the carpet with a thump and flipped open.

  I stiffened as I saw Nick’s eyes staring up at me. The man whose incredible kiss I still tasted on my lips. “Nick Johnson, Serendipity’s rising star” was the caption underneath the photo.

  I bent down, picked up the magazine, and placed it on the couch, trying to hide the tremor in my hands.

  “You didn’t manage to read it. You can have it,” Lilliana offered.

  “Thank you… Thank you for everything,” I stammered in response.

  I walked out in a daze.

  ***

  First thing I did when I stepped into my apartment was count the money Lilliana had given me. It was enough to pay one month’s rent with extra left over for other things.

  I climbed under the covers with the magazine to read the article about Nick.

  It turned out Nick Johnson had only been a stranger to me. To everyone else, he was a successful businessman, a real estate developer who’d made millions with his chains of luxury hotels, which were spread out all over the world.

  I raised my fingertips to my lips. I had kissed a millionaire. Any hopes of being with him crumbled instantly. He was way out of my league. Or what if he wasn’t? Maybe I was deluding myself, but I chose to believe it wasn’t over. Nick was an ordinary, handsome man—he just had more money than average.

  I ran a finger along the contours of his face, touched the soul-touching emerald eyes I’d had the privilege to dive into.

  Despite the odds stacked against us, something about this man made me want to be with him. Not because of his money. My finances were tight, but I’d never date a man for his money.

  Something else about him refused to let me go. If only I knew what that was.

  I reread the article at least five times. Nick Johnson. His name was now etched on the surface of my heart. It would have been easier to forget him before, when he was just a handsome stranger. But now I knew more than just the color of his eyes. I knew he was real.

  Before meeting him, I’d resigned myself to my life at Oasis, to working and living in a homeless shelter, with no dreams, no plans, and no desires.

  Until Nick walked into my life and tipped it over.

  I’d thought Chris would be my first and last, and I’d never fall for another man. Now I found myself rethinking my entire life. Maybe Melisa was right—maybe it wasn’t too late to start over. I had lain low and licked my wounds for too long. I’d paid my dues. Whatever scars I carried, I’d have to learn to live with.

  I wanted to become the kind of woman a man like Nick would be proud to date. I truly had no idea when and whether I’d see him again but what did I have to lose by hoping?

  Maybe fate would intervene.

  Chapter Six

  “Carlene, meet Sam Doherty.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Sam looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. He was tall and wiry, and his smile was more of a frown, which had left a permanent line between his brows. His hand shook mine, but his eyes remained frozen. He was going to be a tough one to win over.

  “He’s the man you want to please,” Lilliana continued.

  Great. I forced a smile. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

  “Sam, Carlene is the first honest person I’ve met in a long time, and I have a feeling she will be an asset to Stalford.”

  Relief had washed over me when Lilliana hired me without asking to see credentials or references. With no graduation behind me or experience in the area, I’d never have gotten the job if I’d applied for it.

  Sam turned to Lilliana. “Can I have a word?”


  Lilliana nodded and followed him up a wooden staircase.

  A chill ran down my spine. Every fiber of my being warned me that Sam wanted to talk Lilliana out of hiring me, a woman with no education or experience. Hopefully he wouldn’t insist on seeing credentials.

  I took advantage of the time to look around again. The store was on two floors and so still, despite the presence of customers and other sales associates.

  Earlier, while we were waiting for Sam to arrive, Lilliana had shown me around. Upstairs were several offices, one of which belonged to Sam and another to Lilliana, opposite an inventory room with maximum security locks. Lilliana admitted that she was never at the store long enough to use it. She preferred to work from home.

  Around me were sparkling glass cabinet displays, drawer units, glass shelves, and showcases filled with jewelry. Case lighting illuminated the facets of precious and semiprecious gems. My fingers itched to touch the jewelry.

  Customers flaunting designer suits, handbags, and shoes weaved their way through the displays and eyed pieces of jewelry. Some had already decided on their purchases and stood at the points-of-sale, credit cards in hand.

  How would it feel to be one of them, shopping with no thought about the cost? To be past the point of buying what I needed and instead purchasing what I wanted?

  How would it feel to be on the other side?

  The ding of a cash register snapped me back to reality. It didn’t matter what I didn’t have. Right now I should be grateful for what I did have—a glamorous job that would pave the way to a new life. What I had was better than what I could have hoped for.

  If my luck held, maybe I wouldn’t have to return to Oasis after all.

  ***

  The next few weeks were spent selling to rich—but unknown—customers. All I could do was observe from a distance as my colleagues attended to celebrities. I’d never thought I’d see these people in real life, let alone breathe the same air as them.

  I did everything to prove my worth. To assure Lilliana that she’d been right to take a chance on me, and to draw Sam to my side. I was almost always the first employee to arrive at the store in the morning and the last one to leave.