Barbara's Plea (3 page)

“Gloria,” I called out before she left.

“Yes, Grey?”

“Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.” I was dumbstruck and felt as if this was all a joke. I was waiting for the pie in the face or the floor to drop out under me.

“Why? Because I like you. I like your values, and I like your honesty. I had a more relaxing morning with you than I have had in years. Today might have started out shitty for both of us, but I think our luck has changed. Enjoy your day, Grey.”

With that, she walked out and closed the door behind her. A moment later, I heard the outside door open and close, and I peered out the small kitchen window to see her climbing into a tinted Town Car.

It was only then that I looked down at the business card in my hand, Withers International. Holy crap! She was that Withers!

“
B
arb
, you have a call on line three. The woman won’t say who it is, but she said it was important,” the voice on my intercom said as I typed a response to an email.

“Okay, thank you. I’ll get it.” I knew who it was.

I clicked the send button for my email and glanced at the door. Before I answered the phone, I went over and shut it all the way. It was rare for me to close it, but this conversation required secrecy.

“Hello,” I answered as I put the phone to my ear.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Barb, but I wanted to let you know something,” the woman’s voice on the other end began.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“You’ll be happy to know that the cupboard is stocked now, so we won’t need any more donations. In fact, we are getting ready to do a big delivery with some of the excess.”

My fingers began to tremble, “That is good news. I’m glad we were able to fill it so quickly for you.”

“Me, too, I’m sure the recipients will be very thankful.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” My mind began to spin. Anxiety clutched my gut. “Can you tell me when that delivery will be? I’d like to let the others know who are involved.”

“I’m not sure, but those plans are in the works. As soon as I have information on that, I’ll be sure to pass it along. Thank you so much for all your help on this. You have done an amazing job, and I’ll be sure to refer you to other nonprofits.”

“You’re welcome and thank you,” I replied, trying to not allow my nerves to register in my voice.

“Have a good day, Barbara.” The woman hung up as I was saying, “You, too.”

I stared at the phone for a moment. This was it. Peggy and I had met in person a couple of times, and over the last year, she had been slowly helping me build my nest egg. She had all my account details, and she was the one who watched my balances and made sure that a portion of my bonuses and paycheck were deposited each month.

A year ago, I had helped a woman who was on the board of directors of one of the domestic violence shelters with an art auction. We had hit it off really quickly, and now she was one of the few people who knew the hell in which I lived.

While working on her art auction, we found time to start working on a safety plan, a plan to get me and Allie free.

She had set up the account as the head, but I was a co-signer on it, so I could access the money when the time came. Over the last year, half of my bonuses went into that account along with a percentage of my paycheck, normally half of my raise each year. Todd was none the wiser. As long as he saw my check being deposited, he didn’t question the amounts. He made enough for both of us.

Peggy had also started helping me with the plans on how I was going to gain my freedom, and with three hundred thousand in the bank, I knew I would have enough to get started and file for divorce from the other side of the country.

I wasn’t sure how much Todd would fight me on this, but if I was honest, I feared for my life, just as I had feared for Allie’s every single day she had lived in my belly and was held in my arms.

I learned early on that Todd was abusive. In my own mind, I knew it. Domestic violence was all over the news these days; I would have had to be blind not to have seen the signs. He was controlling and had alienated me from my friends. The only time I went out to an event was as the object on his arm. Even my business trips had become few and far between.

That alone was difficult and caused added stress since I worked for a marketing company that helped nonprofit organizations raise money.

About the time that I knew in my heart I needed to get out, I learned I was pregnant. I thought back to the night I had told Todd we were going to have a baby. I was so happy about the burgeoning life within that never in a million years did I think he wouldn’t feel the same way.

In fact, I had convinced myself that this would fix the problems between us, and that he would ease up and show me the love he had once shown me before we were married.

Little did I know that the words I shared that night would make everything worse, a whole lot worse.

Todd had arrived home in a surly mood, but I was used to that by now. I had gotten off early so I could make him his favorite meal, roasted lamb and red potatoes.

When we sat down, I made a show of opening up a bottle of wine and pouring him a glass, while only having water in my goblet.

“Why aren’t you drinking tonight?” he had asked as he draped his napkin over his lap.

I gave him a soft smile. “Well, the doctor told me that I shouldn’t be drinking,” I stated demurely.

He eyed me critically, “When did you go to a doctor?”

“Today,” I sat down in the seat beside him and placed my cream linen napkin over my legs.

“Why did you go to the doctor and not tell me?” he asked harshly, but I knew—or so I thought—that what I would tell him would calm him down, make him happy. I was sure of it.

“I wanted to surprise you.” I grinned at him, “We’re going to have a baby.”

I waited for the smile, waited for the sparkle to come to his eye, and for the excitement to bubble out of him.

“You’re what?” he barked.

“I’m pregnant,” I repeated, confused and shocked by his reaction.

“Why the hell did you let yourself get knocked up?” He lifted his napkin and tossed it into the middle of his full plate. My hands twisted the linen in my lap.

“I didn’t let myself, it just happened, Todd.” I stared at him, “Aren’t you happy?”

His jaw clenched. “Happy?” he retorted. He pushed his chair up and stood glaring down at me, “Happy?” He placed his palms face-down on the table and leaned over them to get closer to me.

I shivered as I blinked myself back to the present. It was almost time. I had slowly been handing off clothing and small toys to Peggy for her to pack for me. Todd had asked one time what the bag was in my trunk, and I had told him it was for a homeless shelter. His upper lip had twisted back, and he’d made a rude comment about my things being too good for those people, but he hadn’t stopped me.

Little did he know that no one else would ever see them, and they would stay in my possession, along with Allie.

The scariest thing about this was not knowing what he would do when he figured it out. Would he come after us? Would he demand Allie back or use her as a tool to get what he wanted? The thoughts made my stomach churn, and I pulled open my drawer and took out some antacids before I opened my door. I couldn’t stay in here too long alone, it would raise questions.

Somehow, I knew that Todd had a spy watching me, I just didn’t know who in our office it was. I knew it wasn’t Trish in accounting, she was the closest thing I had to a friend and the only other person who knew about the other account I had. When I had set it up, I had told her I was putting together a college fund for Allie, and wanted to surprise Todd and asked her to keep it a secret. So far, she hadn’t said anything to me about it.

I had no doubts that others in the office knew things were not great at home. It was hard to hide the bruises all the time, or to paint a smile on my face when I was scared for my life, or in pain. I did what I had to, and made excuses. Todd had actually worked it out with my boss that I could work from home some days, using a made-up excuse that our daughter was sickly, and I was needed to care for her.

My boss never batted an eye. I don’t think he wanted to know the truth.

I sank back into my chair, my mind drifting back to that night again.

There had been no happiness, no excitement. In fact, all that had registered on my husband’s face was rage, and my body had begun to quiver.

“No, I’m not fucking happy!” Spittle flew off his lips and into my face. “I never said I wanted any fucking kids!” He shoved off the table, “They make too much noise and they make huge messes.” He continued on his rant as he walked around to the back of my chair, “What could possibly have gone through that stupid head of yours,” he poked me in the back of the skull, “to make you think I would want a kid?”

I rolled my neck as if I could roll away from the memories, I didn’t want to think of the violence of that night. The day after I had told Todd about being pregnant, he had come to me and apologized profusely. His excuse was that he had been jealous of the fact that he was going to have to share me, and he’d promised he would never try to do anything to hurt me again.

I had wanted to believe him—I really had—but his true nature came out time and time again. Although he never tried to cause me to miscarry Allie again, he found other ways to demean me and cause me pain.

His harshest comments came from how large my belly grew. He hated the sight of me as it protruded in front of me. He never touched me, and if he by chance saw me without clothes, his lips would curl in disgust. I should have been happy he kept his distance, but somewhere deep inside me, I still loved him and wanted him to love both me and the baby.

He had stated that he was allowing me to keep the child to keep me happy, as if he were paying me to keep quiet. Little did he know that I had enough evidence of his behavior and nasty taunts to destroy his career. The karma fairy would find him one day, of that I was sure.

Did it make me an evil person to know that I could destroy his career if I wanted to? I didn’t think so—not after everything that he had done to me—not after being degraded on my knees like a whore, or even worse, being told I was stupid in public while I stood by his side at an event. Did he not think that people saw the pain he caused? Did he think it made him more of a man, when in fact it made him less of one?

While I might be trapped in this relationship, it had taken me only a short time to realize the extent of his abusive nature. Add a year of planning to gain back my freedom and now the future was just over the horizon. We only needed to get the final plans set in motion, and I would be able to walk away—hopefully.

I busied myself with my work, even though my hands continued to shake slightly. In the back of my mind, I knew I needed to appear normal. I feared the final steps, but I knew I had to be drastic to gain the upper hand. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be seeing freedom, I would instead be staring at the inside of a silk-lined oak box.

Peggy had assured me she knew what she was doing. She had reiterated that this was not the first time she had helped a woman escape the perils of a high-profile person. I trusted her, I had no other option.

A knock on my door startled me, and I jumped in my seat as I looked up guiltily.

“You okay?” Roberta asked as she slipped into my office and took the chair on the other side of my desk.

I waved away her comment, “Yeah, I was deep in thought. What do you need?”

“There is a conference in San Diego next week, I was wondering if you were going,” she said as she crossed her legs.

The conference, yes, that could be my ticket.

“I had planned on it. Why?”

“I was wondering if I could go with you. I need to start learning more so I can help you. This might be the perfect time.”

Roberta was relatively new to the company, and I couldn’t think of a better person to take my place. “I can’t think of a better way for you to get involved. Check with Paul and make sure he is alright with it.”

She grinned, “I already did. He said as long as you don’t mind, I could tag along.”

I laughed. She was a real go getter. I looked over my mahogany desk and realized that it wouldn’t be long before she would probably be sitting on my side of it.

“Glad to hear that. Speak with Michele, she can get your plane tickets and hotel reservations done.”

“Will do.”

We spoke for a few more minutes about the conference and what I normally did there. I wanted her to know all the details; she would need them since I would probably never show up for them.

When Roberta stepped out of my office, I decided it was time for a coffee break. I rummaged around on my desk for a copy of the itinerary that Michele had given me for my trip. With the vanilla folder in one hand and my coffee mug in the other, I made my way to the break room, stopping in the copy machine first.

I knew Peggy’s fax number, and while it was a risk to send it to her, I had no other means of getting the information to her. I glanced over my shoulder and saw I was alone before I punched in her fax number and then scanned the page of my itinerary, pushing the button to send it.

It zipped through the machine and came out on top. I tapped my nails on the hard plastic top as I stared at the small screen to make sure it was connecting. A moment later, the machine came alive as it printed out a receipt verifying the document had been sent. I slipped it off the machine and took two steps to stick it into the crosscut shredder. With a loud mechanical whirl, the receipt was destroyed, and unless someone wanted to check the hard drive of the copier, no one would be the wiser.

I tucked the folder under my arm and went to fill my coffee cup, my knees weak as I realized I had just taken the next step to freedom.

D
ressed
in my nicest pair of pants and shirt, I pulled my heaping monster of a truck into the driveway of the Withers Estate. The gates were open, and I slipped past them with only a moment of hesitation.

What if she had changed her mind? What if she had only been feeling sorry for me yesterday or herself since she had received bad news, and today she had her good sense back and would tell me to get lost?

I had lain awake all night dwelling on these and other questions. Was she really interested in my work?

There was only one way to find out. I pulled my truck to the front of her large stone house. Did I say large? How about monstrous? Does she live in this thing alone? I wondered as I put my truck in park and pulled out the key.

My door squeaked louder than I remembered it sounding as I pushed it open. Man, a car like this should not be allowed anywhere near a home as amazing as this one. I prayed I didn’t leave a puddle of oil or transmission fluid all over the fancy paving stones of her driveway.

A large, dark oak door pulled open, and Gloria stood there with a huge welcoming smile, easing my anxiety immediately.

“Grey, you’re right on time. I was hoping you wouldn’t have trouble with your car this morning.”

I returned her warm smile and didn’t bother to tell her I had had to work on it for twenty minutes before it had started. I’d been sitting down the road at a gas station for the last hour with the truck running to make sure I wasn’t late. It was a waste of gas, but there was no way I was going to make her wait.

“Yeah, the old beast actually surprised me this morning,” I replied. “It only took me twenty minutes and not forty like the other day.”

“Well, welcome. Come in, I have breakfast waiting for us in the conservatory.”

She had a conservatory? I was so out of my league. I stepped past her after shaking her hand and almost spun right back around and walked back out. The foyer rose two stories and a circular staircase followed the curve of the rear wall up to the second level. A huge crystal—hell, it could have been diamonds for all I knew—chandelier hung from the center of the room. Even if it was made of crystal, it was probably worth more than I had made in the last three years.

“It’s a house, Grey, don’t let it define who you are,” she passed by me to lead the way, “I don’t.”

I pushed out a breath and followed her, embarrassed that she had seen my anxiety so easily. “I’m sorry.”

She laughed and kept walking, “I realize that you are a man with manners, but we are going to have to work on the constant apologies. You have no reason to apologize.”

We entered the conservatory, a room at the rear of the house with, in place of walls along the back, windows that overlooked a large garden. Sunlight filled the room, but not at an angle as to be blinding. The room had large bookshelves lining the walls on the right and left. Behind me loomed a large stone fireplace. The walls were a soft peach color that immediately comforted and welcomed me.

Gloria moved to a table near one of the windows and sat down in a chair. The table had fresh linens and flowers along with fancy china on it. A basket of muffins and breads sat in the center, and as I grew closer, I could smell the sweet, yeasty scent of the warm bread. Saliva filled my mouth as my stomach growled.

Gloria motioned with her hand to the seat across from her. “Have a seat,” she invited as a woman in gray slacks and a black blouse walked into the room carrying a tray of fruit.

I glanced at the table; there were only two spots. Where was she going to sit? I watched as she set the tray down, gave me a faint smile and nod before she addressed Gloria, “Will there be anything else, Mrs. Withers?”

“No, Amelia. Tell Carlos to give us about fifteen minutes before you bring out the main meal. Thank you.”

Amelia wasn’t eating with us, she was the hired help. How stupid could I be? I sidled over to the chair and sank down.

“So, how are you today, Grey?” Gloria asked as she held the basket of breads out to me. I plucked a hot muffin out of the basket.

“I’m fine. More importantly, how are you feeling today?” I had spent quite a bit of time during the night thinking about how she had been so focused on me yesterday that she had barely mentioned her diagnosis.

She snorted, “I’m trying not to dwell on it.” She broke a bite-sized piece of her own roll, buttered it, and ate it.

“Did you think about if you are going to have treatment?” Why I felt I had a right to know such things didn’t matter. She had entrusted me with the knowledge yesterday, so I felt it was only right that I ask.

“Yes, I did, and no, I’m not,” she answered right before she ate another bite of her bread.

My hand and bread knife hovered over my muffin. “You’re not going to have treatment?”

“Nope,” she vowed. “I have lived a long life, and I am not going to spend the last of it feeling worse because of all the chemicals they will put into my body to fight a losing battle.”

She was so matter of fact that I wondered if she said it out of fear or if she was just that damned strong. “Okay,” I replied softly and began to butter my muffin.

“Thank you for asking, Grey. I do appreciate that, but it is you that I want to talk about.”

“Me?” I queried as I tried to contain the grumblings of my stomach. I had only had a small dinner, a bowl of soup. Even though I knew she had wanted me to join her today, I was still surprised to hear her say that.

“Yes, you. I thought a lot about you last night, and I showed your pictures to one of my project managers. They loved your work, and I’d like to commission you to do a very large project.”

“Seriously?” The piece of muffin I was about to pop into my mouth hung in front of my lips as I stared at her.

She laughed, “Yes, seriously. I think those two particular pieces are exactly what my project needs to finish up.”

“Okay,” I said and finally set the sweet spongy piece of bread on my tongue. The taste and texture were so delectable that I had to fight to contain a moan of delight.

“They are good, aren’t they?” Man, this lady never missed a beat. “I love my chef.”

“You have your own chef?” I asked as I broke off another piece.

“Yes, and I have a chauffeur, a maid, a gardener, and an assistant working for me. Get over the shock, please. Yes, I’m wealthy. I got over it myself a long time ago.”

I laughed. This woman was so cool. “It wasn’t until you left that I realized who you really were.”

She dabbed at her lips with her linen napkin and placed her hands back in her lap. “Who am I?” she asked seriously.

“You’re Gloria Withers, the head of a multi-billion-dollar enterprise.”

She studied me. “Does that change how you feel about me?”

“No, ma’am, I mean, yes. It tells me that you deserve more respect than I had originally shown you.”

She held her hand up, “Stop.” She straightened from the table. “I am the same old woman you met on a bench yesterday, the same woman with whom you sat and had breakfast, and the same one who is dying of a nasty disease. I put my underwear on the same way you do, one foot at a time. We both brush our teeth and have to pay taxes. Do not think of me as some matriarch to a fortune or any different than you. Just because my forks might be silver, and yours stainless steel, we use them in the same manner.”

I was quick to reply, “No, that’s not what I meant. What I was trying to say was: You are part of a huge organization that has helped a lot of people, and I have the utmost respect for all that your company has done. I’m not going to deny that I feel completely out of my league in your presence, but I’m honored that you like my work.”

She tipped her head to the side, “I like you, Grey. You’re a real man, one who isn’t afraid to say what he means or how he feels. You wear your heart on your sleeve and it shines right through your eyes. You have talent, and I want to help you.”

“Thank you, Gloria,” my voice husky with emotion.

She sipped from her coffee cup then said, “I was going to wait until after breakfast, but I want to show you something first.” She stood and called out, “Amelia.”

In seconds, Amelia pushed her head through the door, “Yes, Mrs. Withers.”

“Tell Carlos to hold off breakfast for a little while. I want to show Grey the workshop first.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She turned and disappeared.

“Come on, Grey, let me show you where you are going to work.”

As I stood, she snaked her thin arm through my elbow. “But I haven’t said I’m going to take the job.”

She smiled up at me, her light blue eyes twinkling, “I have no doubt that you will say yes.”

She was right. There was no doubt that I was going to say yes. I needed a job, and if I could do something that would be a part of Withers International, I’d take it in a heartbeat.

We left the conservatory and went outside through a door to the garden. “Your garden is beautiful.” The late spring flowers bloomed bright and bold. Butterflies flitted from one flower to the next as we followed the winding path.

“Thank you. I quite enjoy it myself.” She didn’t say anything else, and I allowed her to lead me toward a smaller two-story stone building near the back corner of her house. It looked like a garage of some kind.

“Now the carriage house has been closed up for a while, so it is a little musty, but I did have Tom open it for me yesterday to air it out a little. A few more days with the windows open, and it should smell much better.” She pushed open the door and stepped aside for me to enter.

As my eyes swept over the forty-foot by sixty-foot work space, my jaw dropped. There was every conceivable wood-working tool available in this room. Tinker my ass; her husband had been a major player. Saws of all dimensions and capabilities lined one wall. Shelves holding planes, routers, and other tools lined the back wall. Cabinets lined another wall. All through the center were work stations. There were dry areas to work with sanding and cutting, and wet areas for staining and painting.

The east side of the room had large windows that let in fresh morning sunlight, and large work lights hung from the ceiling. A garage door allowed for the transportation of large pieces, a regular door led to a back room, and, in the corner, a staircase led to who-knew-what upstairs.

“Walter kept his wood supplies in that back room.” Gloria pointed to the door I had noticed. “There is also a small bathroom in there.”

I wandered around the room. My calloused fingertips grazed over surfaces with the utmost respect. I had just died and gone to heaven.

“Will it work for you?” she asked as she stood near the door, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Um…I…uh,” I took a deep breath and blew it out, “yeah, it would work for me, but you never did tell me what it is you wanted me to do.”

“I need one hundred of your rocking chairs made, and fifty of your toy boxes. I’d like to have a hand in the engraved design for them, and of course the stain, but, otherwise, you do with them as you see fit.”

My head spun. “Excuse me?”

Gloria was all business as she continued, “I’ll pay for all materials and supplies. You will be paid three hundred for each chair and four hundred for each toy box.”

My eyes bugged out of my head. “You’re not serious, are you?” my voice squeaked. She wanted to pay me thirty thousand dollars to make rocking chairs? I did the quick calculation for the toy boxes. Holy shit! That was another twenty grand. I could make fifty grand on this job. My fingers began to tingle as I imagined being able to spend all my time working in this room to create something beautiful.

“I am very serious, Grey.” She scanned the room and I realized she looked uncomfortable. I wondered if she had been inside the room since her husband had passed away. I glanced around once more and met her at the door.

“If you are really serious, I’d love to take the job.” I stared down in awe into the face of the sweetest little old lady I had ever met. She was giving me the chance to do what I loved— and get paid for it.

“There are two other conditions that I must put on this offer of employment,” she continued in her all-business voice.

“And those are?”

“Your truck gets parked in the garage, and you use my husband’s old truck. You can work on yours when you have idle time, but you are going to need a vehicle that doesn’t cause you problems.”

I didn’t like taking charity, but it would be nice to have reliable transportation to get around while I slowly got the repairs done to my own truck. “Okay, I can do that, if you really want me to, thank you. What is the other stipulation?”

“You live in the apartment above the workshop. I want you to have access to your work anytime you want it.”

Tears filled my eyes. “Why are you doing this?” I asked hoarsely.

Her smile softened and she placed a hand on my arm, “Because you are a man who deserves the world, and you just need a good place to start taking it over.”