Entangled Moments (Moments in Time) (3 page)

Chapter Four

Lynnette fully supported my decision to move out. She
assured me, just as Melisa said she would, that there would always be a place
for me at Oasis.

In the evening, as usual, I waitressed at Joe’s Steaks
across the street. This time, instead of disappearing after my shift, I went to
talk to Joe about giving me a full-time job. He’d proposed it on several
occasions, but working at Oasis had always been my priority. It was my
lifeline, the place that kept me sane, and I hadn’t been ready to cut that rope
just yet.

Unfortunately, my timing was bad. Joe no longer needed an
additional full-time waitress, and I had to look elsewhere. After pounding the
streets for a week, I finally found a job waitressing at the Surry Hotel
restaurant. I’d have loved to work at the Serendipity Lux Hotel on the other
side of the street, but working in a luxury hotel required years of experience,
which I lacked.

My shift started before I had finished shaking the manager’s
hand.

Next on my to-do list was finding a place to stay.

***

I climbed out of the taxi and stepped into the filthiest
part of town. Two men were sprawled out on the pavement, and beggars sat
cross-legged on the curb. I tossed a few coins into several coffee cups. I’d
been there.

Pressing my purse close to my body, I crossed the street. A
car whizzed by, ignoring a red light, and almost ran me over. I sprang away in
time and landed on my bum. Unfazed, I stood and dusted myself off. Nothing
would stop me from reaching my destination.

The apartment building was tucked between a laundromat and a
strip club.

The caretaker, a man with crow’s feet and a widow’s peak
opened the door with one hand. He held a chipped coffee mug in the other.

“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.