Second Chances (3 page)

“Thanks, Mom. Don’t you think I feel bad enough?”

“You do remember what I said when you threatened to marry that vagrant, don’t you?” Charlotte stiffened and sat upright. She held the porcelain cup in the Blue Magnolia pattern in her right hand, her pinkie finger pointing upward. She handed Abby the paper and pen. “Here, figure out your life. Tomorrow at breakfast, I want to see what you wrote. If it’s reasonable and makes financial sense, I’ll speak to my attorney. If not, you’re on your own. Breakfast is at eight o’clock sharp. I suggest you get to it.” Charlotte patted her mouth with the hemstitched linen napkin, stood, left the room, and closed the pocket doors behind her.

Abby stared at the blank sheet of paper, holding the fountain pen in her hand. “I hate these damn things.” She found her backpack, still lying in the foyer with her duffel bag, and brought it into the parlor. A dozen hotel pens were in the zipped side pocket. “Good enough.” After pouring another cup of coffee, she curled up on the chair and began to chart her future. Abby wondered if she could ever be in a relationship or trust men again after Remy. Did he ruin any chance she might have had to fall in love with somebody else? At the moment, she had to focus on her immediate need. Men could wait. She’d check out job postings online, hopefully in the only field she knew—relationship counseling. If there weren’t any jobs available working for somebody else, she’d start her own practice, somehow, somewhere.

This outline has to look sincere, like I put a lot of thought into it. I’ll need to take some refresher courses and find out if my certification is still good. Maybe if I take this seriously, I’ll be able to read people better.

After two hours of Internet searches and note taking, Abby had a viable plan of action to present her mother at breakfast. She rose from the chair, stretched, and rolled her neck. Popping sounds from her knotted muscles told her just how tense she really was. With a deep sigh, she opened the pocket doors and walked out of the drawing room. Her duffel bag still lay untouched in the quiet foyer. Seeing it lying there made her wince with anxiety and remorse. Her mother wasn’t welcoming her home, and deep down, Abby knew reconnecting with her wouldn’t be easy. Betsy normally would have taken her bag upstairs, but it was likely Charlotte had told her not to. Abby would have to earn back her place in her mother’s home, even if it was temporary.

She wondered if they would ever be close again or if all chances of that were gone for good.

She woke to an entirely different feeling—life had changed again. Gone were the tropical birdcalls and sounds of the surf crashing against the shoreline. She lay in the bed she had used while growing up, sleeping alone, just as she had then. Abby rolled over, rubbed her eyes, and checked the time on her cell phone.
Crap! I have to be dressed and at breakfast in forty minutes
. Luckily, her closet still held the clothes she’d left behind almost two years ago, and her suite had a private bath. She dove out of bed with no time to wake up slowly and lazily. With the shower running and the water heating, she rifled through the closet and picked out a simple peach-colored sheath. Abby pinned her mass of curls up with a hair clip and stepped into the blissfully hot water. She didn’t have enough time to bother with her hair that morning. She had to prove to Charlotte that she was responsible by arriving in the breakfast room at eight o’clock sharp with dry hair and wearing a respectable dress in one of her mother’s favorite colors.

Abby grabbed the outline she had prepared the night before, inhaled deeply, and descended the staircase. Her mother sat at the table in the breakfast room, waiting. Charlotte glanced at the antique mantel clock sitting on the sideboard and gave an approving nod when Abby walked through the French doors.

“Good morning, Abigail. I hope you slept well.”

“Good morning, Mom. I slept fine, and the coffee smells great.”

Abby sat across from Charlotte, with White Point Garden directly out the large window in front of her. Betsy poured coffee for both of them, placed a bowl of fruit and a plate of croissants on the table, and exited the room. Abby set her outline on the table, hoping her mother wouldn’t want to see it quite yet. Her stomach growled, indicating food and coffee were necessary before anything else.

Once breakfast was over, Charlotte asked to see the outline. Abby nervously handed the paperwork to her mother, waiting to find out her fate. After lifting the reading glasses that hung from the beaded lanyard and perching them on her nose, Charlotte read the four-page outline. Abby already had her master’s degree, but she would need to take continuing education courses and become a licensed counselor if she wanted to start her own practice in marriage, family, and relationship counseling. She had been disappointed that she couldn’t find any job openings in an existing practice during her online search last night. She researched the cost and length of time it would take before she could open her practice. She was sure her mother would find that a respectable occupation. All Abby needed was a loan from her mother to make it a reality.

“It looks like you’re taking this seriously with all the work you’ve put into this outline,” Charlotte said. “The only problem is, it will take a year to accomplish, and you want a twenty-thousand-dollar loan. What will you do in the meantime?”

“I’ll find something to prove myself. I’ll work in a daycare center or nursing home during the day and take my courses at night. All I need is a roof over my head, and I’m hoping it will be here. I’m truly sorry for all the grief I’ve caused these last few years. I’ll even accompany you to the galas and art events. It can be like old times again.”

“We did have fun, didn’t we? All right, I’ll give you another chance to do the right thing. I’ll stop in at my attorney’s office this afternoon and have him change the will back as it was before the Remy fiasco. I’m having lunch with the board members of my favorite charity anyway, so I’ll be in the general neighborhood.” Charlotte poured each of them another cup of coffee and bit into a chocolate croissant.

“So you really did change the will?” Abby was shocked but not surprised that her mother had lived up to her word.

“Of course I did, dear. You defied me. I had no choice. I want another outline tonight at dinner of the school you’re going to enroll in and places you’ve contacted today for employment. After you get a job and start school, I’ll loan you the money.”

Abby felt the flush of anger prickle the back of her neck. Her mother was a control freak, but there was nothing she could do about it yet. Sure, she could work for meager wages somewhere, but that income would be eaten up by rent and living expenses. For the time being, she’d have to conform to her mother’s demands even though they infuriated her. Abby retreated to her bedroom to get started on her assignment. She felt like a schoolkid again, having to obey her mother.
This is such crap. I’ll call Mel and see what she’s up to. Hopefully, she has time to do lunch.

At twenty-seven, Abby felt like an irresponsible child, not having much money or even a car to call her own.

“Mel, what are you doing today? I really need someone to talk to, and a few beers. I’ll buy lunch if you’re free, but you’ll have to pick me up.”

“Sure, no problem, do you want to go to Crabby’s again?”

“Yeah, I like the vibe there. It isn’t a tourist trap. Do they still offer the best Crab Louie Salad in town?”

“They sure do, and the largest choice of beers. Okay, I’ll pick you up at noon.”

Abby checked the time. She still had two hours to kill. She’d get to her mother’s demands later. Right then, she wanted to reconnect with the beautiful city she used to call home. She followed the sound of voices she heard from downstairs at the back of the house. Her mother might come looking for her, so it was best to be upfront and say she was going out to clear her mind. Abby found Charlotte and Betsy in the lush walled garden behind the house. Charlotte sat at the wrought-iron table, paging through the Meyer’s Nursery catalog. She was choosing the annuals she wanted delivered and planted. Betsy was in charge of contacting the local nursery and making Charlotte’s every wish a reality.

“Hi, Mom. I’m going for a short walk around the neighborhood to gather my thoughts. I’ll be back in a half hour.”

“All right. Just remember what you need to do later. Don’t disappoint me, dear.”

“I wouldn’t think of it. I’ll be back soon.”

Abby left, feeling more deflated than ever, wondering how long she could tolerate Charlotte’s stranglehold on her every movement. She walked up East Battery to Rainbow Row, trying to enjoy the moment. She had always loved the colorful homes and the beautiful private gardens behind each gate. She remembered coming to the neighborhood as a child and behaving the same way the tourists did, gasping with excitement and clicking cameras at every lovely home and historical monument they passed. That was long before her family moved there themselves. She turned west on Elliot Street and followed it to Meeting Street, where she went south. Abby stopped at Two Meeting Street and went inside the beautiful bed-and-breakfast to say hello to the proprietors. The owners were close friends of Charlotte’s—a welcoming couple who had been a mainstay in Charleston for years. On her way home, she stopped at White Point Garden and found an empty bench to sit on. She’d gone there often before she met Remy and moved to St. Thomas. She inhaled the ocean air deeply, thankful that nothing about the area had changed.

Back in her room before meeting Mel, Abby searched the job postings online and jotted down anything she thought might be a possibility. She caught sight of the flashing red light on her charging cell phone lying on the night table next to her bed. John at Magens Bay had left a message that said he’d heard through the grapevine that Remy was in Ecuador living it up. That was all John knew, except that Ecuador didn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States. He apologized again for Abby’s misfortune with Remy and assured her that she was missed by everyone in Magens Bay.

Abby was thankful Charlotte had left the house before Melanie arrived. The last thing she wanted was to be interrogated by her mother in front of her best friend. Abby pulled the sheers back and watched from her bedroom window as Charlotte drove away in her black Mercedes sedan to meet with board members from one of her many charities. Charlotte was involved with a dozen organizations throughout Charleston. Abby wondered if her mother was really that philanthropic or if she just enjoyed the attention, inflating her already oversized ego. With a sigh, Abby plopped down on her antique mahogany bed, causing the springs to squeak, and began searching the online job sites. She found four possibilities she would check into after lunch. She bookmarked each site and powered down her laptop. Mel would be out front any minute. Abby grabbed her purse, checked her reflection in the gilded mirror hanging in the foyer, then went outside to sit on the columned, covered veranda to watch for Melanie.

“Seriously, are you really going to work at a fast-food joint for seven bucks an hour just to please your mom?” Mel asked. She slurped her clam chowder with fish crackers floating on top.

“No, I’m not going to those extremes, but I’ve saved four jobs I’m going to call about later this afternoon. Two of the jobs are in daycare centers, one is a hostess position in a downtown restaurant, and one is a job as a helper in a retirement center. I know none of them are going to pay well, but I need to prove to my mom that I’m making an effort. I have to do something while I’m going to school or she won’t loan me the money to open my practice.”

“So you really want to be a relationship counselor? That’s your desire in life, something you’ve always wanted to do?” Melanie chuckled and shook her head. After downing her first beer, she held up her mug to get the waitress’s attention. “Two more Bulls Bay Oyster Stouts, please.”

“No Louis today?” Abby noticed behind the bar several people she didn’t recognize.

“Naw… I guess he’s been remodeling one of their bedrooms into a cute pink nursery. Business is really good here, so he can take off whenever he wants to. Hey, why don’t you ask Louis for a job?”

“I don’t know about that, especially since he knows my mom has money. Don’t you think it would seem weird to him that I’m begging for a job? At least if I work in a place where nobody knows me, I won’t come off as pathetic.”

“I guess you’re right, but I can ask around, too. I know a lot of movers and shakers in the fashion industry, plus my job is actually fun.”

“True. I’d much rather work in some high-end fashion house than give old people sponge baths.”

After she finished her Crab Louie and beer, Abby checked the time. “I better get home before my mom does. I don’t really want her knowing I’ve been out. I’ll get another lecture, and believe me, I’ve had enough for this week.” Abby got the attention of the waitress and asked for the check.

“Abs, if it’s really that bad, just move in with me. We can make it work.”

“Thanks, but two people living in a one-bedroom apartment the size of my room at home is next to impossible. You barely have enough room for your own clothes, fashionista that you are. I’ll deal with my mom for as long as I can.”

The women left Crabby’s and headed south on King Street. Several blocks down, a police officer stood in the street redirecting traffic. He motioned for them to turn left onto Tradd Street with the other cars ahead of them. They could catch Meeting Street from Tradd and continue to South Battery. They craned their necks, trying to look farther down King Street before they turned left. Sirens blared and lights flashed several blocks ahead as they tried to see what the commotion was about. An ambulance and two squad cars zoomed past before they made the turn.

“I remember hearing sirens while we were eating, don’t you?” Abby squinted, trying to get a better look before they turned off King Street.

“Now that you mention it, yeah, I do. I wonder what the heck is going on.”

They reached the home of Charlotte Melrose, and Abby got out. “I’d invite you in, but until I find employment for pay, I better lay low. Thanks for doing lunch with me and listening to my woes. I’ll let you know how my job search is going.”