Moments In Time: The Complete Novella Collection (4 page)

“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.

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.

“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.