Two weeks had passed since the news report
that mentioned Bentley’s. Angeline sat alone in
the Riverview café, except for a couple of old
men at the counter catching up on the day’s
gossip and farm news. Nursing a cup of coffee,
she sat looking through the Central City Gazette
employment section, circling ads for which she
might be qualified.
Every day she relived that terrible
Wednesday when she drove to work on pins and
needles after the news broadcast. Glenda’s
leering face greeted her as she opened the door
for Angeline. A summer downpour had caused her
to run inside, shaking out her blue paisley
umbrella before propping it by the door.
“Did you see the news, Angeline?” she said,
grinning horribly.
“Of course,” she mumbled and went to her
desk to start working.
“Angeline,” Francine’s sharp voice was
unnaturally quiet as she called from her office.
“Can I see you?”
She walked into Francine’s office and was
shocked by what she saw. Francine looked as if
she had been up all night and didn’t even comb
her hair before she came to work. She wore no
make-up, her age showing in an appalling way.
“Angeline, I have been up all night talking
with the Bentley’s. They were not happy to see
the report, very unhappy in fact. They want all
the facts of what happened and Glenda reminded
me that you waited on the old man.”
“I…uh…well, remember I told you that this
old man came in, looking poor as dirt and wanted
a dress designed for a girl in a wheelchair.
You could tell by looking at them they had no
money.”
“So you sent him to Estelle Granger?”
“No ma’am, Glenda suggested the Dress
Boutique. I don’t know where they met her.”
“Well, it really doesn’t matter because the
damage to Bentley’s has been done. We have had
several calls already today canceling
appointments to look at dresses and some
canceling orders altogether. A lot of PR work
will need to be done. Seymour Bentley has his
people working on that even as we speak.
Angeline, you’re fired. Pick up your things and
your check will be mailed to you.”
Francine did not even look at her, just
doodled on a piece of paper on her desk.
Angeline turned to go and clean out her desk.
“Oh and if it will make you feel better,”
Francine said, the sharp voice returning as she
looked at her with malice, “they are letting me
go also.”
“I am so sorry,” Angeline mumbled. “I…”
“Just get out! I never want to see you
again.”
Her desk was easily packed up, since she
only had a few personal things there. Without
looking at anyone, Angeline grabbed her umbrella
and went back out into the rain. Driving
straight home, she put on an old green sweat
suit and turned on the television, trying to put
what had just happened out of her mind.
After a couple of hours the cell phone rang
and she looked and saw that it was Elaine. She
did not answer. Her mother’s call went
unanswered as well. At four o’clock that
afternoon, she was still watching television,
only getting up to go to the bathroom and get
more junk food to eat. Angeline had never
acquired a taste for alcohol but she wished she
had so she would not have to think. She opened
her third pack of Marlboro’s and decided that
would have to do for now.
Just then, someone rang the doorbell. As
she made her way through the living room, she
lit another cigarette. Looking through the
side glass, she grimaced as she saw her mother
and Elaine. How did they find out?
“Come in,” she said glassily. “If you can
stand the smoke.”
“Ang, we were worried about you,” Elaine
said. “When you didn’t return our calls, I
called Bentley’s and they said you didn’t work
there anymore. I went by to get your mother to
see if we could help.”
Getting my mother was the worst way to
help, Angeline thought, but she did not want
to fight now, not today.
“What happened?” Elaine asked when they had
sat in the living room.
“I was the one who turned that old man
down,” she said bitterly. “Anyone could see he
couldn’t afford Bentley’s. If Francine or
anyone else would have been in my place they
would have done the same thing. In fact,
Francine told me I had done the right thing. She
said we didn’t do charity work at Bentley’s.
But no, it’s my fault so I get canned. At
least, Francine got it too. Serves her right
with her acting like I had done something
wrong. It’s what she trained me to do.”
They stayed for a couple of hours. Her
mother was actually kind of quiet, did not nag,
and did not mention dating, marriage or
smoking. She hugged Angeline when they left, as
did Elaine, and said they would be checking on
her.
That was two weeks ago and now she sat in
the café, drinking coffee and wondering about
her car and how she could make those high
monthly payments. It seemed she had the plague
for no one in Riverview was interested in hiring
her. Word spread everywhere about the way she
treated Homer Smith, probably by Glenda, and it
was blown far out of proportion. People
believed what they wanted and now she was on a
black list with little hope of finding something
close. She didn’t know if Central City would be
any better.
“Excuse me,” someone said in a pleasant
voice. “Can I join you?”
She looked up to see Estelle Granger.
Angeline recognized her from the broadcast, the
wedding dress designer.
“If you want,” she said stiffly, her guard
up.
“I’m just returning from a fitting for
Betty and stopped here to get some lunch. When
I saw you sitting here I remembered you from the
Bentley story. Glenda’s mother, my cousin Edna
mentioned that you lost your job over that
story.”
“Yeah, well Glenda pretty much has the
whole town shunning me, just for doing my job.”
“I know how those shops are. When I was
younger I worked at one for a short time before
I was fired for hemming an expensive gown too
short. It’s what the customer said she wanted
though I tried to change her mind. She then
went to the manager and I was out. Then I
worked at the supermarket until I had enough
money put back to start a shop in my home.”
Angeline sat, sipping her coffee and
wondering why this lady was giving out her life
story. Why would she even talk to her?
“Anyway my business has sky rocketed since
the story and I have hired two other
seamstresses to help. I am looking at a
building to rent and I could use someone to help
me manage and do the books. I’m a designer, not
a manager. I couldn’t pay you a lot to start
with but as soon as the business is going…”
Angeline stared at Estelle, stunned.
“Why would you want to do this? Betty and
all her bunch must hate me…and…and I don’t know
if I blame them.”
“They don’t hate you but they do hate that
you lost your job. The Smiths’ are good people.”
Angeline’s mind was racing. They were not
mad at her? After the way she treated the old man?
“Why?” she asked, suspiciously.
“Why not? Everything has worked better than
they could have ever imagined.”
This thought was a new concept to Angeline.
Her way to deal with people was to get angry, bitter
and even. Her mother came to mind. Angeline
wondered if she could let go of her anger toward her
mother. Could she forgive her?
“Anyway, about the job, I know you have the
experience and expertise to help me build a thriving
business and everyone deserves another chance.”
Another chance, Angeline thought to
herself. Someone thinks I deserve another chance.
Maybe Mother deserves a second chance, too.
“Tell me more,” Angeline said, thoughtfully as
the waitress brought more coffee and Estelle began
to order her lunch.
A week later, Angeline was nervous. Hard to
believe that the woman that once had it all together
was nervous about working for Estelle Granger. A
lady that at one time she would have felt was
beneath her, status wise. Now as she drove to
Central City, Angeline thought about how she could
manage this booming business. Excitement of a new
kind filled her as she glanced at the notebook next
to her full of fresh ideas. She hoped Estelle would
approve. First things first, though.
She pulled into a long driveway in front of a
large brick ranch style home. Parking next to an
older model Lincoln Town car, Angeline climbed out,
locking the door to her Lexus. Quickly, she walked
up the sidewalk and knocked on the front door. Her
hands were sweaty and she was trembling with
anticipation. The door opened slowly as she smiled
slightly.
“Mother,” she said with genuine warmth in her
voice, “I think it is time we talked…”
