The Painted Lady
by Felicia Rogers
Published by Astraea Press
www.astraeapress.com
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2012 FELICIA ROGERS
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
THE PAINTED LADY
Copyright © 2012 FELICIA ROGERS
ISBN 978-1-936852-94-9
Cover Art Designed by Elaina Lee
Edited by Em Petrova
To my family and friends…
Chapter One
"Good morning, Mr. Hampton," said Elizabeth Smith, as she entered her boss's office and placed his morning cup of coffee on his rich mahogany desk.
"Oh, good morning, Elizabeth," replied Charles Hampton in a distracted manner. She placed his day planner before him. The ancient bifocals he'd bought off eBay slid down his nose, forcing him to push them back into place. "Is this my schedule for the day?"
Elizabeth moved around to the opposite side of the desk and settled herself in a chair. A clipboard rested on her lap as she adjusted her long flowery skirt. "I'm afraid so. You have a meeting with the Brownstones to discuss their divorce arrangements. Also an eleven-thirty luncheon with Mrs. Hampton. And then you have a meeting with the Winterbottom Corporation at two o'clock."
"Tell me. Why did I agree to do this divorce again?"
"I believe you said it's because Jack and Jamma Brownstone are two of your oldest and dearest friends, and you were hoping you could help them reconcile their differences before an actual divorce occurs."
"Hmm…that's what I said, but I don't know what I was thinking. I don't see how the two of them ever got married in the first place. They can't agree on anything."
"I was under the illusion it gets easier to live with one another as time goes on. Not the other way around."
"You're partially right. In most cases, each individual learns to let certain things go. These two haven't spent enough time together or something. They haven't reached the point of letting stuff go. Have you seen this list they've created of their assets?"
"Yes, I can say I have."
Charles shifted in his reclining chair. The fact was Elizabeth was privy to more than just divorce documents. Classified papers often came through his office. Papers that contained dangerous information to certain people.
Focusing on the list in front of him, he cleared his throat, "They even listed the kitchen sink. I mean, really, the kitchen sink. One of them wrote they wanted the, and I quote 'pink fuzzy slippers that always sat under the dressing vanity in the bathroom.' I hate to say it, but I don't think it was Jamma that asked for those."
Elizabeth couldn't retain the giggle that escaped from behind her hand. "I'm sure you'll find a way to make it all work out for both of them."
Leaning back, he stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. Breathing deep, he forced himself to relax. She was right, of course. That was why all his friends came to him if and when the need for a separation arose. They trusted him to take care of their every need. Although this particular case could turn out different.
With a smile spreading across his face, he said, "I'm sure you're right. It'll work out. But I'm not sure either of them will be happy, no matter what happens."
Elizabeth smiled. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Charles sent a lingering look in her direction. There was nothing she could do for him. Perhaps a better question was what he could do for her. What could he do to keep her safe once everything went down?
She continued to stare at him with those big doe-like eyes, waiting for an answer. Finally, he said, "Yes, take these briefs and type them up. Get George on the line for me. I need to see if he'll meet his mother and me for lunch today."
She nodded as she jotted down her notes. When she finished, Elizabeth headed toward his doors and the front office which contained her own desk.
"And Elizabeth," Charles said, stopping her before she closed his office door. She turned to face him. As she stared at him, he studied her mussed appearance. The skirt she wore touched the ground. Her curly mass of hair spread out at least six inches on either side of her head. This disguise had kept her from harm for months; now all of that might be about to change. Before he changed his mind about maintaining the secret, he added, "Thanks."
"Of course," she said. A genuine smile rested on her lips as the door clicked shut behind her.
****
Elizabeth spent the rest of the afternoon at her desk typing and listening to the elevator music that played throughout the office. The law offices of Hampton, Hampton, and Hampton consisted of three floors. Each floor contained one partner, several lawyers and many assistants. Her position was a special one. In essence, she was the head assistant, not in charge or control, but rather one who knew everything that occurred in the building. Every case taken by the lawyers in the firm first came through Charles Hampton's office and therefore fell across her desk.
Sometimes the mere fact that she held such an important position astounded her. Trust between Elizabeth and Mr. Hampton was vital. Simple things had been asked of her to maintain this trust.
Fingering the material of her clothes, Elizabeth released a pent-up breath and walked to the long row of windows and looked outside.
Charles Hampton, her boss, was the senior member of the firm. He had the best floor, located at the top of the building. From this position, one could see the outstretched arm of the Statue of Liberty. Those in the lower tiers called it "The Penthouse."
The next floor down was for George Hampton, Charles' eldest son. Then one more floor below contained the last part of the firm. It belonged to Henry Hampton. Henry, the youngest of the family, had just joined the firm about three years before. Among all three of the members, the law firm of Hampton, Hampton, and Hampton could take on just about any case imaginable.
Charles' specialty was contract law. George defended white-collar crime and the youngest son, dubbed "little Henry," had taken on divorce and injury law. Although all of them took other cases on occasion. The firm was a smorgasbord. When you came to Hampton, Hampton, and Hampton, it was like going to a buffet. They had a little bit of everything to choose from.
Under each of the Hampton men, there was another tier of lawyers. And under each of those lawyers was a layer of paralegals, assistants, and other personnel. In all, the firm employed anywhere from fifty to one hundred employees, and right now Elizabeth was at the pinnacle of the operation.
Elizabeth had graduated law school in her early twenties and went into practice in her hometown in Tennessee. When her aunt Mary, who lived in New York, passed away, she left Elizabeth a townhouse with a half-paid mortgage in her will. Elizabeth left her job and her family and moved.
Upon arriving in New York, she realized she no longer wanted to be the lawyer working eighty hours a week with no home life, no family. While skimming ads in the newspaper, she found an advertisement for a position at the Hampton law firm. It was just an assistant's position, but proved to be steady work with set hours and decent pay.
Elizabeth had jumped at the chance. Now she was the assistant to the top man of the entire firm. She loved it. He was a great man to work for. His wife, Janice, was a dear. The three of them got along fabulously.
The only downside to working at the firm had been a change in attire. There was no chance Elizabeth would ever be included in a fashion magazine, that was certain. Before getting the job, she had worn clothing that at least fit her body. Elizabeth walked back to her desk and sat down. Sighing deeply, she shuffled through the papers on her desk and thought about Janice's request.
When Elizabeth was hired, Janice had taken her aside and explained the situation. "You'll be handling some very important documents while you work in this office."
"Yes, of course," Elizabeth had dutifully nodded.
With their arms interlocked at the elbows, Janice had them pacing the room. "I don't know if you understand the gravity of the situation. My husband works with high profile businessmen. People who wish to keep their secrets secret. Therefore, I have a request."
Elizabeth simply nodded and waited.
"I would like for you to dress less obviously."
"Excuse me?"
"My dear, I want you to downplay your appearance. You know, look like a frumpy housewife or something. Wear sweat pants, pull your hair back in a ponytail—I don't really care. Just anything to keep from placing attention on yourself."
Elizabeth had readily agreed. She needed the job to pay for the townhouse. Besides, Janice's request seemed mild.
Today as the sun rose in the Manhattan skyline, causing rays to pour into the room, Elizabeth tapped away at the computer keyboard. Thoughts of looking like her old self ran through her head. Before she realized the time, she heard a distinct ding.
Promptly at eleven-thirty, Janice Hampton walked through the elevator door. She wore a cashmere skirt and suit jacket and was the epitome of the classy lady. Her graying hair was arranged in a coiffure; her earrings swayed as she walked. She sauntered over to Elizabeth's desk and stopped.
"Is he ready?"
"I'm not sure. Give me a moment, and I'll page him on the intercom. By the way, Mr. Hampton invited George as well. He should be here any moment. Would you like anything while you wait, Mrs. Hampton?"
"No, dear. Just Charles. This is an important day."
Elizabeth was curious; however, she didn't ask. She was afraid she would get Mr. Hampton in trouble if she should have known about the day's events and then didn't. Perhaps he should've been gushing with some exciting bit of news, but he hadn't.
She pushed the intercom button, "Mr. Hampton? Mrs. Hampton is here for your lunch appointment."
"I'll be right out," came through the little box.
Elizabeth started to repeat what Mr. Hampton said, but Janice raised her hand with red lacquered fingernails. "I heard him, dear. No need to repeat it. I'll just sit here and wait on him."
Janice sat in one of the office chairs and crossed her legs, picking up one of the magazines adorning the mahogany tables in the room. She flipped through the pages, appearing to study them. She put the magazine down and began to pace.
Elizabeth tried to ignore her and kept typing on the brief needed for that afternoon's meeting. Janice started to tap her bright red lips with her fingers and started muttering under her breath. Without warning she blurted out, "He didn't tell you, did he?"
Elizabeth looked up from her work. Now, what? Normally she knew everything that occurred in and around the office. Plastering a smile on her face she asked, "Tell me what?"
"George is getting married."
"No. He didn't tell me. That's wonderful news." Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief that this was the big news. That son of Charles always flirted with her and made her feel uncomfortable. She got the sense that he felt she was fair game because no one else would want her with the way she dressed. If only he knew why she was arrayed this way, then she was sure he would have taken a different tone. Directing her attention back to Janice, she heard her continue.
"Humph. That remains to be seen. We've yet to meet this woman. George showed up last week at our family dinner and announced he was getting married in August."
"Oh."
"That's why we're having this lunch with him today. We want to know who he's marrying and why we haven't met her yet. We're not sure if he is ashamed of us or ashamed of her."
"That does seem out of character for George." Lest Elizabeth sound more familiar with the family than she should, she added quickly, "I mean Mr. Hampton has told me in the past about how George was the son that liked to share his exploits."
"That's true. The kid was like a bad refrigerator. He couldn't keep anything," Janice said with a smile. "It was Henry I worried about the most. He was the silent type. He never would tell us what he was thinking. Unlike George who always said exactly what was on his mind. I think that's why this came as such a shock."
At that moment the elevator doors opened, and George walked through them. He wasn't an overly tall man, measuring out at about five feet, ten inches. He was, however, lithe and graceful in his style. Although his mother told him he was too skinny, he never seemed to lack for female attention.
Janice went to him and planted a kiss on each of his cheeks. "Good afternoon, darling. I'm so glad you could join your father and me today."
"Father didn't give me much choice."
"He didn't?"
"No. He told me if I didn't come, he was knocking me down to Henry's floor."
George said the words with such scorn that it was all Elizabeth could do to hold in her laughter. From under her lashes, Elizabeth watched Janice and George interact. Fortunate for her, he seemed preoccupied with his mother. Elizabeth sank lower into her chair, pecking the keyboard slower and slower to try and mask the sound. Maybe if he didn't hear her, then he wouldn't see her, and then she would be safe from his fake charms.
Hands on her narrow hips, Janice asked, "Would you please tell me what's wrong with Henry's floor? From what I can tell, all the floors are the same except for the décor."
"That's just it. He was going to knock me down there and not allow me to redecorate!" George shuddered with mock horror. Noticing they weren't alone he looked in Elizabeth's direction. "Elizabeth. How are you today?"
"Very well. And you, Mr. Hampton?"
"Elizabeth, my dear," he said, coming forward, he picked up her hand, and placed a peck of a kiss on her knuckles. Elizabeth smiled, wishing to pull her hand back and run to the restroom. "I have asked time and again that you refrain from calling me Mr. Hampton. It makes me feel old. As you can see, I'm hardly old." He gave a huge grin, showing off a row of pearly white teeth.
****
Janice grabbed George away from Elizabeth. Eyes narrowed, she studied her husband's secretary. Elizabeth's hair hung down to her waist. It was brown, dull, and dried out. It looked as if it had one too many bad perms, causing it to bush out. Her blouse was unwrinkled and clean, though baggy on her slender frame. Her skirt looked as if it came from a Goodwill store that was having a seventies sale. It had big flowers in wild colors and went to the bottom of her feet. Her tiny feet were encased in sandals made from what appeared to be plastic. She had glasses that were about a quarter of an inch thick and covered most of her face.
While Janice looked her over, she couldn't help but be a little happy with the fact her husband's secretary was a little bit less than attractive. Of course this had been all her doing. She recommended this look to Elizabeth upon her initial employment. The reason was for the girl's safety, although Janice wasn't sure if the young lady ever realized the severity of the situation. Perhaps the issues had passed and the girl could come out of her shell. Maybe it was time to release her from the look. Besides, George pretending to fawn all over the girl while she dressed like this was sickening.
She grabbed him and pulled him as far away from Elizabeth as possible. Whispering as low as she could, "Are you crazy? That kind of stunt is going to get you slapped with a lawsuit for harassment. Not to mention bringing undue attention to her."
"Oh mother, please. Elizabeth and I have an understanding."
"And what's that?"
"I give her a peck on the hand every once in awhile and make her feel beautiful, and she lets me do it. Doesn't every woman want the attention of a handsome, virile man once in a while?"
Janice didn't have time to comment further because Charles entered the room.
He addressed his secretary first. "Elizabeth, you may go to lunch while I'm gone. When you return, you may continue with your work. I'll watch my clock and if by some mistake I don't get back in time for the Winterbottom meeting, stall them."
Janice gulped. The Winterbottom Corporation was coming? She didn't think Charles or her sons were in danger from them. She wasn't even sure if they knew the entire story. But Elizabeth was different. Most of the important documents went through her hands at one time or another. Was it possible she'd read something she could pass along that could be detrimental to the firm?
Janice waited on pins and needles to see what would happen next. Would Elizabeth acknowledge the Winterbottom Corporation? Would she reveal something she knew if she was left alone with them for too long? When the girl spoke, she showed no signs of deception.
"Will do."
Tired of being ignored and ready to get the discussion with George over with, Janice spoke up, "Come along you two. We have much to discuss. And we mustn't be late for our lunch reservations."
George plastered a grin on his face, linked arms with his mother, and walked to the elevator with Charles close behind.
****
Elizabeth wrapped up her typing and grabbed her lunch from the break room refrigerator. In the middle of the building in which she worked was an open-air courtyard with tables. Many of the Hampton employees gathered there to enjoy their lunches. Elizabeth headed there now. When she arrived in the promenade, her friends—Wesley, Lisa, and LuLu—were all waiting.
"What took you so long?" Wesley tapped his foot in a fast pace, all while snapping his fingers in her direction. He was by far the most impatient of the bunch.
"Mr. Hampton had a lunch meeting, and I was waiting for him to leave before I came down. I've told you not to wait on me. Just go ahead and eat."
"We don't like to eat without you," said Wesley, glancing over at LuLu who had a mouth full of roast beef. "Well, some of us like to wait on you."
LuLu replied, "I was hungry."
Lisa said, "You're always hungry."
The four of them were an odd mix, but for some reason they worked. Probably because they all held the same general ideas when it came to theology. LuLu was short and round with a jolly disposition. She claimed that she was just a tad overweight. Wesley had the build of a football player, and his blond hair was cut in a military buzz. Lisa was tall and skinny and would have fit in on any runway. Elizabeth was completely average. She was five-foot-six inches tall—an average height for a woman. She weighed around one-hundred-forty pounds, although no one could tell with the baggy clothes she wore. She had plain green eyes that remained hidden behind thick glasses.
Things could be different. Internally she was aware taking on this appearance had been recommended and voluntary. The Hamptons, or rather Janice, had given her the choice. Change your appearance and stay safe, or don't change and put yourself in danger.
Thinking more on her friends, she realized that indeed to the outside world, these four were an odd mix, while to their thinking, they were the perfect match. They were all Christians. They attended the same church. They held the same basic morals and beliefs with very few exceptions. So although the world viewed them as a strange clique, they viewed each other as family.
Even with all these things in common, they still had their own demons to wrestle. After everyone placed food in their mouths, Lisa asked, "What's the drama from your floor today?"
The other three in the group shook their heads and Lisa looked a little deflated. "Surely there is something going on. You have to give me something, anything. You know I'm a gossip addict. You guys also know it never goes beyond us. If you don't share, I won't make it through the rest of the day without blurting out information I already know."
Today the four of them sat under overhanging branches. Sunlight streamed through the leaves and landed all around them, warming exposed skin. A breeze came through, lifting Elizabeth's hair off the back of her neck.
Elizabeth thought about what Lisa had said. She knew it was true. At one lunch break everyone remained silent about gossip or work-related news and Lisa had gone back to her floor and told everyone LuLu had dyed her hair purple. No one in the office really cared that LuLu once had purple hair, however the news reached LuLu's father. He worked as a janitor in the building, and LuLu had received a scolding of gigantic proportions. Since LuLu probably wasn't really in the mood for a repeat of that particular day, she decided to share.
"There's a bit of news from George's floor."
Elizabeth began to squirm. If they discovered information about George's secret marriage, they would begin to question her to see if she knew more. She didn't make it a habit to share her employer's personal information because of loyalty and for fear of being canned. Not to mention, when a person started to gossip about things they knew, sometimes they became out of hand and said more than they should. In her position, saying more than she should could be harmful to her health. Yes, it was better just to remain silent. Elizabeth waited and when LuLu spoke, she was surprised by what she shared.
"George hired a new lawyer."
Lisa frowned. "That's it? George brought in another lawyer. He's always hiring new attorneys. Word is that he doesn't like to work, so he just pretends by employing more legal representatives. That's nothing. Old news. You better give me something else or there might be more purple on the horizon."
LuLu frowned before saying, "You don't understand. He didn't hire just any lawyer. He hired blue eyes himself!"
"Ol' blue eyes? Like in Frank Sinatra? I thought he was dead," said Wesley.
"I didn't say ol' blue eyes; I just said blue eyes. As in, he has the dreamiest blue eyes a woman has ever seen. Anyway, he is a high class defense attorney for some of the meanest criminals known to man. They say he prides himself in getting the guilty off scott-free."
Elizabeth frowned. Now why would George, who was an expert in white collar crime, hire such a high-profile criminal defense attorney?
Lisa interrupted her thoughts. "Oh, yeah, I've heard about him. He's young, attractive, and likes to eat all over town with one beauty or another. He never dates anyone from work. He's on all the society pages."
LuLu buttered a roll and asked, "How would you know? Have you been reading the society pages?"
"Of course, I always read the society pages."
After that, the normal argument between LuLu and Lisa ensued. LuLu was of the opinion that reading the society pages was of the Devil, and Lisa took the position there was nothing wrong with it. The pastor had tried to reason with the two women using a theological explanation, but it had done no good. They were both firm in their beliefs. One said it was okay; the other that it was wrong. Wesley and Elizabeth had decided to just let them argue it out. They figured when one of them was personally convicted by Jesus, it would all work itself out.
As the two ladies were going back and forth, Elizabeth spotted a new individual entering the promenade. He was tall with midnight black hair. His build was similar to that of Wesley's, but he seemed broader in the shoulders.
He sat down at a table and looked up, catching Elizabeth in the act of openly staring at him. He sent a smile in her direction, causing her to blush bright red. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her chest. Her throat tightened as she swallowed the food in her mouth. She lowered her gaze back to the table, but not before Wesley caught her.
"I see you finally spotted someone you like."
"What?" Elizabeth asked in a shocked whisper.
"Don't be ashamed. That's the first time in the year I've known you that you have openly stared at anyone."
"I was looking because he's new. That's all."
"Elizabeth, there's nothing wrong with finding someone of the opposite sex attractive. In fact, I believe that's God's plan for all of us, or part of His plan."
"It doesn't matter. You're wrong. I was just staring because he's new." Sighing wistfully, she continued, "It wouldn't matter anyway. I'm hardly the type of girl that would attract his attention."
"Why do you say that?"
"Look at me, Wesley."
"I look at you a lot. You're a very attractive and beautiful woman." He lifted a piece of her brown hair. "You have lustrous brown hair and sparkling emerald green eyes, as well as a heart of gold."
"You're just saying that to be nice," Elizabeth said, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.
"Nope," he said, while popping a carrot into his mouth and crunching on it.
With uncommon boldness, she asked, "Then how come you've never asked me out, hmm?"
"Good question. Do you want to go out?"
Elizabeth raised her eyebrow. "I don't think Lisa would like that too much."
"How did you know?" asked Wesley, an eyebrow raising in surprise.
Elizabeth shrugged. "It's obvious. Why didn't you guys just tell us?"
"We didn't want to change the friend dynamic by announcing that we were dating. We would still like to be friends if it doesn't work out."
"Good. I'm glad to hear it. You guys will be great together." Elizabeth thought for a moment and then looked at Lisa and LuLu, who were still hot and heavy with their moral discussion, before asking Wesley, "How would I go about getting the attention of someone like that?"
"What kind of attention?"
"That's a good question. I mean, I could get attention from him now. He would probably think I was a frumpy housewife that had no time to take care of her personal being. I think I would rather be noticed as a woman, I mean a real woman."
Wesley tapped his forehead. "Maybe you should ask Lisa to help you with a makeover. She's into clothes and looking her best and all that."
"I know Lisa could help me, but I don't really want to try and be overly attractive and attract the wrong kind of guy. Not that Lisa does that. I mean, you're a guy. And I just want to look womanly, I guess. How about you help me instead?"
Wesley shifted. Elizabeth placed a hand on his arm, looked into his eyes, and said, "It'll be okay."
Taking a deep breath, he finally answered, "Yeah, I'll help you. When do you want to do this?"
"When are you free?"
"I don't have a date with Lisa tonight, so maybe we could meet after work. Say at six. Here in the promenade."
"Sure. Thanks."
By now Lisa and LuLu had stopped arguing about society pages and were discussing what they were eating. Lisa was on LuLu about counting her calories so she would eat less; LuLu was on Lisa to count her calories so she would eat more. Wesley and Elizabeth rolled their eyes, sat back and enjoyed their meal, and the brief rest from work.
Elizabeth stared down at her food, thinking. She didn't know what had possessed her to want to appear more feminine. Surely just looking at a tall, attractive man wouldn't cause her to just drop this style and change back to what she'd worn before. But she had been looking at herself in the mirror a lot more lately. She knew she wasn't a beauty queen; she also knew she wasn't completely ugly. Her family wondered why she wasn't married yet, and of course she hadn't told them about her change in appearance. If they knew she'd changed just so she could work as a secretary, they might not have been too happy.
When Elizabeth glanced back up at the man with the black hair, he was watching her. She smiled in his direction, because it felt like the right thing to do. His eyes stayed locked on her. Elizabeth sighed and angled her gaze downward. When she looked down, she noticed her sloppy appearance. A sigh parted her lips. How was she ever going to meet anyone under these circumstances? Who would want to have anything to do with her? Not only did she look terrible, but she was a walking time bomb. She wasn't safe to be around. The what-ifs continued to swirl through her mind until a headache set up behind her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she wondered, What am I doing to myself?
Chancing a glance at her watch, Elizabeth noticed her lunch break was over. She said good-bye to the group, gathered her things and left. As her feet slapped the shiny tile floor, Elizabeth's mind wondered. Would Mr. Hampton be upset when he returned from lunch? Had George's announcement been a pleasant surprise?
As she continued on her way back to the office, she was struck by a flash of color. In the middle of the promenade was a huge round brick planter that was filled with trees, green foliage, and real blooming flowers. Elizabeth directed her feet to their location. On one of the leaves sat an interesting sight. It was a butterfly.
Elizabeth bent over and studied the unique features of the creature. When the wings were shut, they were a drab brown, and when they opened they displayed an intricate design of orange and black, with a hint of blue. Elizabeth placed her hand forward. The butterfly walked onto her waiting palm.
"That's a very nice specimen. Vanessa cardui, or Painted Lady, I believe."
His voice was deep and sent chills down her spine, causing Elizabeth to take a swift breath. With the movement, the creature flew away.
Looking into the stranger's face, the first thing she noticed was his deep blue eyes. He was even more attractive at this range. Her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth, refusing to work.
Bowing her head, Elizabeth barreled toward the elevator, leaving him at the bushes alone. More than ever, she needed Wesley's help.
Chapter Two
Bruce leaned back in his office chair, the soft black leather conformed to his body. Taking off his glasses and placing them down on his desk, he rubbed his temples for the thousandth time today. A headache brewed beneath the surface.
Sighing, Bruce tipped back in the chair and propped his feet up, his long legs tensed at the odd angle. The antique oak finish of the desk glinted brightly from the Tiffany-style touch lamp that graced it. His mother would be mortified if she saw his feet propped on her early 1800s escritoire. With a thud, he dropped his feet to the floor and continued to stare at the ceiling.
First he studied the lines and angles in the room. Yep, they all appeared straight. Then he studied the corner. Yep, they were perfectly perpendicular. As the vein in his head throbbed, his eyes were drawn to the objects on his desk.
Bruce's nine-year-old nephew, Austin, had given him a fake emerald for his birthday. It was three inches in diameter and gaudy, but Austin knew green was Bruce's favorite color. While on a school trip to Cherokee, North Carolina, the child had spent his own money on the gift. Bruce had been touched and promised that when he had a big fancy office the emerald would go with him.
Next to the emerald sat another gift. It was a perfectly round orb of amber. Encased inside the amber was a painted lady butterfly. When he was younger he'd been fascinated with insects, and in particular butterflies. How could this creature change so drastically from an ugly caterpillar to an object of such beauty?
Picking up the amber and holding it on his palm, Bruce remembered why he'd entered law school. The promise that creatures could change had precipitated his choice.
With every criminal Bruce defended, guilty or not guilty, he looked for a change in their lives. For a metamorphosis to take place. Examples existed from the beginning of time, so why could they not happen now?
As Bruce continued to stare at the imitation emerald and the piece of amber in his hands, his mind was drawn to another green object he'd seen earlier in the day. More like a set of objects.
Those eyes.
Bruce admitted he'd been placed a tad off-guard by the young lady's gaze. She didn't seem like most women. She was plain, almost dowdy in her appearance. If he'd seen her on the street, he would have thrown her a quarter. But something about her was different.
The instant their eyes connected, Bruce knew it was all an act. She was hiding something. It was like a mystery begging to be solved.
Sitting up straight, Bruce placed his glasses back on his face. Why was he sitting here as if he had nothing to do? He'd been hired by George Hampton because he was one of the best criminal defense attorneys in the state. This was no time to shirk his duty or ruin his reputation. If anything, Bruce had to prove he was really worth the money he was being paid.
****
At the end the day, Elizabeth met Wesley at the promenade. She was afraid they would accidentally run into Lisa and would have to explain why they were together. Of course, there was the off chance she could run into the new guy. A flower caught her attention. The blue petals were an exact match to the new lawyer's eyes.
A deep sigh parted her lips. Fortunately either encounter wasn't likely to happen.
"Don't worry about running into Lisa. She went home early today. Her mother's coming in for a visit and she wanted to be prepared."
"That explains why she's been so much more like her old self here lately. Reading the society pages, gossiping, arguing with LuLu about everything."
Wesley snickered. "Yeah, it does. She's been putting off telling her mother she was saved because she didn't want to do it over the phone. Now her mother has come for a visit, and she's more nervous than ever."
"Will her mom be happy for her?"
Wesley's speech reflected sadness. "I don't think so. Her mother's an atheist. She doesn't believe in anything. Lisa really wants her mother to be happy for her but more than that, she wants her to understand her decision. Lisa plans to ask her to attend church with us this weekend. She's really worried her mother will say no."
"Then we'll just have to pray Lisa's mother has a change of heart."
"Yeah, I've been doing that for weeks. I wanted to share with you guys what was happening, but Lisa was afraid her mother would change her mind about visiting. Then she would have to explain it to you guys, and it would be like a double whammy to her ego."
"I understand. You know, just because she didn't want to tell me, doesn't mean we can't pray for her now."
"True."
Wesley started to walk away when Elizabeth grabbed his arm and sat down on one of the settees. "No, I mean right now." They sat together, and Elizabeth voiced a prayer for Lisa and her mother, asking that Lisa would receive guidance on the matter at hand and that God's will be done. When she finished, they stood and walked out of the lobby.
****
Wesley had been thinking all day about how to tell Elizabeth what he saw as her problem areas. No man should ever tell a woman these things. However he had a job to do. He was about to back out when she looked up at him with those big green eyes and asked, "Where to first?"
"To my car." Once there he was going to have to talk to her. When they both settled in the seats and strapped in, he looked at her. "Elizabeth, I don't want to hurt your feelings."
"Oh, you won't hurt my feelings."
"You don't know that. You're asking me to make you attractive to a man. You're asking me to make you look different. The problem is I already see you as beautiful. Anything I change about you today will make you think that part of you wasn't attractive before. Do you see how this could work out?"
"Wesley, I know my appearance isn't one of my best features." He began to interrupt, but she stopped him. "That's because I've been hiding behind myself. I've let my hair go so it would fall in my face and hide my emotions. I've worn my skirts at a longer length so no one can tell I have legs. I've let my shirts get baggy because I don't want anyone staring at me. It's time for this turtle to emerge from her shell. But just a little. Okay?"
"Like a butterfly from its chrysalis, eh?"
Elizabeth stuttered out, "Y—yes."
Wesley raised an eyebrow but didn't question her reaction. He started up the motor and they went on their way. When they left the parking garage, he told her he'd lined up several appointments. First was the eye doctor. When they arrived at the doctor's office everyone was gone except the physician. The doc had stayed late as a favor to Wesley.
"You're late. I was just about to leave. I thought maybe you'd changed your mind."
"Nope, we didn't change our mind. I tried to talk her out of it though."
"Talk her out of contacts?"
"No, Jeff. Just never mind and get on with it. We have a hair appointment in an hour."
Jeff worked quickly. He checked her glasses, making little mumbling noises about them not needing to be so thick. Then he examined her eyes. After the examination, he placed tiny pieces of flexible plastic in her eyes and before she knew it, she was looking in a mirror.
Elizabeth's bright green eyes shone like emeralds as she stared at a reflection of her whole face. Wesley watched as she continued to stare. When she looked at Wesley, she asked, "What do you think?"
Answering truthfully, he said, "I like it. The question is what do you think?"
"Well, it's different. I think I like it."
The doctor leaned back causally against the wall, his arms crossed against his broad chest. "Now that was worth the wait."
A red hue covered Elizabeth's cheeks as she tried to shift her gaze downward. Her hair fell across her face and Wesley remembered their next appointment.
Glancing down at his watch, he told Jeff thanks, grabbed Elizabeth and hurried out the door. When they were almost to the hairdressers, Elizabeth said, "We didn't pay him."
"I already settled with him."
"What? Wesley! I can't let you pay for all this."
"No, not that kind of settle. I did him a favor some years ago and he owed me one. Besides, you shouldn't worry about this visit. You are just getting started. You'll have to go back and get more contacts later, okay?"
"Gotcha."
They traveled on in silence. Wesley whipped into a parking place and hurried Elizabeth out of the car. The hair dresser was really a fancy little shop on a corner in downtown Manhattan. As the door opened a little bell rang, announcing their presence.
"There you are. What took you so long?" Rosey stared at Wesley, a large wad of gum coming out of her mouth and forming a bubble. When it popped, she motioned them inside the tiny shop. The door was shut and locked behind them.
The room smelled of burnt hair and perm chemicals. Ignoring the odors, Wesley moved Elizabeth to one of the empty salon chairs in the room and bade her to have a seat. Once she was settled, he found an empty chair along the wall, picked up a magazine and answered Rosey's question. "Jeff was slow."
"Figures," mumbled the lady, before turning to Elizabeth, "Now what can we do for you, little lady?"
Wesley watched as Elizabeth twisted a fuzzy curl around her forefinger. Her top teeth bit into her lip. Looking in the mirror, her gaze sought him. When she answered there was a tremble in her voice. "Well, I don't really know."
Wesley rolled his eyes heavenward. Was he going to have to think of everything for her? He hoped when he was done she liked her new look, or he would just say "Told you so," and be done with it.
"Rosey, we need you to add some medium to long layers on the back and sides. Let's keep the bounce and the body, but above all else, get rid of this bad perm look."
"Excellent choice."
As Rosey worked on Elizabeth, Wesley wondered if she knew what she had gotten herself into. He was sitting behind her flipping through a magazine. The heat from Elizabeth's questioning glare was palatable. He looked up, a grin spread across his face as he said, "I had a lot of sisters."
"Oh."
"Just enjoy the pampering, girl. How often do you think Lisa is going to allow me to pamper another woman without getting extremely jealous? You know I'll have to tell her what I did for you, or she'll think we're hiding something."
"And that means you'll have to tell her why," groaned Elizabeth.
"Don't worry. Lisa loves you. She wants you to be happy. She won't tell that you're trying to get blue eyes interested in you."
"Come over here, Wesley."
Wesley walked over to her and she snuck her arm out from under the apron and punched him. "Oww, what was that for?"
"I'm not doing this so blue eyes will take an interest in me. I'm doing this for myself. I want to feel a little more attractive. Got it?"
Wesley massaged his arm, milking the sympathy. She couldn't know what he was up to, could she? He hoped not. It was better if she thought this was all her idea. The makeover didn't need to come from him. It was the only way to keep her safe. With an attempt at lightening the mood, he said playfully, "Okay, okay, I get it. You didn't have to hit me."
"How can you be that big and still whine like a little girl?"
His head reared back, laughter flowed freely. When he finished, he stared directly at her, displaying a smile, and said, "Trust me. It's easy."
****
The hair dresser finished up and twirled the seat around to the mirror. Elizabeth was in a state of shock. She hadn't seen this lady in a long time. The sight of herself as she had once looked sent goose bumps down her arms. Shaking her head back and forth, she enjoyed the silken hair which now glided across her neck. She felt light and free. Wesley settled the bill again and grabbed her, pulling her across the room.
"Where are we going now?"
"Your last appointment."
Elizabeth attempted to keep her rapid pulse in check. Yes, she had wanted this change. Yes, she was tired of hiding behind her clothing. Tired of listening to Janice and her ideas about staying safe. The whole notion that someone would come after her because she'd seen a document in the office was absurd. Everyone in the building had seen important, confidential information at one time or another. As far as she knew, none of them had been asked to hide their appearance.
No, the real fear she had was for her position. Love for the job helped her to rise from bed each morning. Income from the job helped pay for her one splurge, her townhouse. This change in appearance could very well backfire. Then what?
Elizabeth tried to think on other things as they traveled to a nice little clothing boutique. Upon entering the store, she was surprised. There was not one piece of clothing in sight. "What kind of store is this?"
"They sell clothes."
"Well I thought so too. But where are the clothes?"
"Just wait. You'll see."
A slender, lanky woman of about fifty with salt and pepper hair walked through a curtain in the opposite wall. "Darling," she crooned, in a thick heavy French accent. "Where have you been? I thought you weren't coming."
"We're getting that a lot tonight."
The lady looked at Elizabeth and grunted. "Oh, my dearest what are you wearing? You look positively dreadful."
Elizabeth tried not to take offense and Wesley answered, "She would like a new look. We need office wear, casual wear, the works."
"Oh, darling, I'll give you the best. You'll see."
The woman clapped her hands three times and women of all shapes and sizes began pouring from behind a closed curtain, each with an armload of clothes. The lady picked three of the women and sent the others back. Then she pointed a finger in the direction of the changing room and gave Elizabeth a gentle push. "Follow Becky, darling. We'll be waiting."
Elizabeth wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. Behind her, Wesley and the store owner settled into two high-backed paisley covered chairs. A small round table sat between them holding a bouquet of flowers, a basket of fruit, and a pitcher of clear colored liquid. A grimace spread across her face as she contemplated her situation. All this fawning over her was overwhelming. How was she going to pay Wesley back for all he was doing to help her?
After a moment's hesitation, Wesley looked in her direction and shooed her toward an open door. So she did the only thing she could do: she obeyed.
She followed the girl named Becky to the other room. The room was bathed in light. Full-length mirrors formed a semi-circle around a small platform that rested in the center of the room. When they arrived inside, Becky laid her pile of clothes on a work table scooted up against the wall and told Elizabeth to strip.
She felt her eyebrows shoot upward. "Pardon?"
The tall, lanky girl placed a hand on her hip and replied, "Well, sweetheart, you have to undress so you can try on the clothes and walk out and model them for Madame and your beau."
"He's not my beau," Elizabeth said firmly.
"Husband?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "No."
Straightening to her full height, Becky said, "Listen girl, it doesn't matter to me who he is. Just get down to your under clothes so you can try these on."
"Sure," Elizabeth said, in a tiny voice. Maybe the girl was having a rough day; whatever the case, she didn't seem real happy about being stuck at work after hours. Not wishing to cause more animosity, Elizabeth quickly complied and put on the first set of clothes.
She walked out a little timidly. Wesley and the Madame were still sitting in matching chairs. Glasses filled with lemonade were in their hands. The ice clinked with their movements.
Wesley touched the glass to his lips when Elizabeth appeared. He let out a low, appreciative whistle, causing Elizabeth to blush from her hairline to the tips of her toes. "I think that'll get Blue Eyes's attention."
"I told you…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. You told me it isn't for him. It's just for all men in general. Well, let me tell you, most men will enjoy your new look."
"Wesley, you're making me uncomfortable."
"Sorry, Elizabeth, but when I told you that you were attractive, I wasn't lying. You've done quite well hiding yourself. People are going to be a little shocked. They're definitely going to wonder why you've been hiding yourself." He faced Madame Duprea, "We'll take that one and all the others you've picked for her."
"Don't you want her to try them on?"
He picked up the French lady's hand and kissed her knuckles, a smile spread across his face and went all the way to his eyes. "Madame Duprea, I trust your judgment implicitly. I'm sure everything you picked will be as expected. You've never steered me wrong before."
"Humph, this is true. How many times does this make now, hmm? It is like ten, no?"
Elizabeth watched Wesley shuffle his feet, his hands fidgeting at his sides. While his body language spoke of discomfort, his mouth continued to praise the Madame and her choices.
"The vivid colors. The style! There's no other boutique in town with as much class as yours." Madame Duprea seemed used to all the attention. She brushed it off with nothing more than a smile.
"You know how to treat a woman, Monsieur Wesley."
He bowed at the waist with a flourish, sweeping his arm forward as he said, "Merci, beaucoup."
The elderly woman hid a giggle behind her hand as she ordered one of her girls to pack up the clothing items and carry them to Wesley's car.
He stopped the assistant before she could fill the last request. "I can do that." He grabbed the packages from a stunned Becky, causing her to blush. Like a gentlemen, his arms laden with packages, Wesley proceeded to the door. Holding open the door for Elizabeth, she slipped past him and out onto the darkening street.
She walked quickly to the car, leaning against the door and waiting on him. Why had he made all those purchases? She didn't need that many new outfits. How would she ever pay him back? Every dime she made went to pay for her townhouse. Her parents had tried to get her to sell it and move somewhere cheaper, except she loved the view and refused to leave.
Which brought her back to how would she pay Wesley back? Maybe he had talked to her parents and this was their way of putting her in debt so she would have to move. Or perhaps she was just being ungrateful. Could be all the pampering had gone to her brain and now she was incapable of being rational.
As Wesley placed the packages in the trunk and came around to open her door, Elizabeth knew everything he'd done for her today had been because he was a nice guy. However, at some point they would have to discuss payment.
The perfect gentleman, he waited for her to be seated before shutting the door behind her. She strapped in while he walked around and climbed behind the driver's wheel.
She kept a wide smile plastered on her face because she could see the employees from the boutique staring at them. No doubt they thought she was his girlfriend, mistress, or some such thing for him to take her to such a shop and spend so much money on her.
She gave him a few minutes to get out on the road. Once they had been riding for awhile, Elizabeth started to ask about his purchases, except Wesley spoke first.
He raised his hand. "I know what you're going to say."
"Do you?"
"Of course, I do. How are you going to pay me back? Why did I go buy all those clothes for you? Is this a plot so you'll have to leave your townhouse? Am I right?"
"How did you know that?"
"You forget how long I've known you, Elizabeth. I've sat in Bible study classes with you, remember? I know what bothers you and what you dread. I know that you quit your job as a lawyer when you moved here. That you took a lower paying job because you didn't want extra stress. I'm a lawyer after all, and I spend a lot of time listening, so I've gotten really good at it. Now in answer to your questions, I'm not trying to place you in debt. I wouldn't do that to you. And you don't have to pay me back."
"Sure. I guess Madame Duprea owes you a favor."
He laughed. "As a matter of fact, she does owe me a favor. I got her son off with a lighter sentence than he deserved, and she's been eternally grateful. She's even given some clothes to Lisa at a discount."
"You took me to a place that Lisa knows about!"
"Well, of course. That way when I tell her everywhere we went she can call and check." Wesley had a type of pleading sound in his voice. "I really like Lisa, and I don't want to mess this up."
Elizabeth felt terrible. She had put him in a very awkward position. "I should have asked Lisa to come with us. Then she wouldn't have had to worry."
"Oh, she isn't worried. In fact I believe she's been following us the whole time."
"What?"
"I called her and told her what you're going through while we were at the hair dresser. I also told her you were kind of embarrassed and didn't want an audience. So she agreed to stay behind so she could only see you as you exited the building."
Elizabeth groaned loudly. "What about her mother's visit?"
"She said she'd finished all the cleaning she wanted to do. Something about needing to get out of the house."
"I wish you would've told me."
Turning to face her, Wesley grinned broadly. "Now, that wouldn't have been any fun."
Elizabeth sneered in his direction then turned and faced out the window. The car cut across town in no time. Soon she was unloaded and staring at her packages in her living room floor. Madame Duprea had forgotten nothing. All the way down to a brand new slip and several pairs of pantyhose. Wesley had been right. Everything the woman chose had fit perfectly.
Elizabeth sat down on her bed and stared at all the packages. She would be up half the night sorting it out. She would have to get rid of her old clothes just to make room for the new ones in her closet. But as her mother always told her, "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth." Elizabeth was going to listen to her at least this time.
****
When Elizabeth was safely inside her home, Wesley picked up his phone. Dialing Lisa, he watched his rearview mirror to see if his tail reached for the phone. When their hands remained steady on the wheel, he hung up.
Wesley had prayed it was Lisa behind him. He'd hoped his past had finally left him behind. But he was wrong. They didn't trust him. This little display proved that they believed he was going to share their secrets. And now his act of friendship toward Elizabeth may have just placed her in grave danger.
Chapter Three
The next day, Manhattan was warm and humid. Elizabeth dressed in a beige skirt that came just a hair above her knees. The sleeves of her shirt ended at the elbow. The thin material was covered in yellow and brown stripes, and a small slit resided on each side of the cuffs; however, the middle part of the shirt resembled a brown vest. She combined that with three inch heels and some small dangling earrings.
Elizabeth brushed out her soft, wavy hair, allowing it to hang freely. She'd never been one for makeup and had refused to change that, even for the overly pushy makeup artist at the salon. Adding a small touch of clear lip gloss and then grabbing her purse, she headed out the door. She realized she'd made a mistake before she reached the bus stop. There was no way she could walk in these heels. Why hadn't she brought tennis shoes and changed into her heels at the office? It was too late now. She would have to make do.
When Elizabeth stepped on the bus, all the regulars were aboard—the lady with the three kids, the priest with his prompt white collar, a little old man that always carried his brown paper bag. No one paid any attention to her new look, and she was glad.
Thirty minutes later, she stepped off the bus in front of the office building. She headed to the glass turn-style doors, pulled down her shirt, made sure she wasn't wobbling in her shoes and walked inside. Nothing happened. No whistles, no catcalls, no one stopped what they were doing to look at her. That was a good sign.
When Elizabeth reached the top floor, she began to wonder what the big deal about her old look had been. She was getting less attention now than she had before. When she entered the office, she put her bag down beside her desk, grabbed her pen and paper, and went to Mr. Hampton's office to get his to-do list for the day. Before entering, she did a soft knock on the door to warn him she'd arrived and was coming in. Waiting for him, Mr. Hampton bade her to enter.
The first thing she noticed upon entering was that he wasn't alone. George and Henry were also in attendance. Charles was staring at his desk when he motioned her forward. He lifted his hand and in it was a list. "Here's what I need you to do today." That was all he said. Elizabeth took the list and headed back outside to her desk to start on her work.
****
"Did you see that?" asked George.
Henry asked, "Who was that?"
"That was Elizabeth, you dolt."
"Elizabeth? Are you crazy? That wasn't Elizabeth. Elizabeth looks like a retro girl from the sixties. That was someone else entirely," said Henry, with confidence.