If The Shoe Fits (17 page)

“Yes, it’s been quite some time.” She didn’t
care to elaborate, so she changed the subject. “Did you enjoy the
reception last week?”

She swore her stepmother’s cheeks pinkened at
the question. “Yes, yes.”

Nothing more to say, huh?
“I
understand you met a gentleman there.”

The older woman fidgeted with her pearl
necklace. “I met several lovely people.”

Refusing to be drawn into another charade,
Charlie decided she’d ask what she came here to ask and be done
with it. She sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve come to ask a favor,
Stepmother.”

“A favor?” She raised her brows and patted
her neatly styled hair. “From me?”

Yes, it was unheard of, wasn’t it?
“I
need you to stop the sale of King’s—”

“Too late. It’s done.”

Her heart sank. She’d assumed as much, but
tried anyway.

Her stepmother waved a hand in the air. “That
was signed and completed weeks ago. Your husband has a team of
crackerjack lawyers. They got things wrapped up rather quickly. At
lightning speed, as a matter of fact. I’d imagine your husband
would have mentioned that small detail to you by the way you
grilled him when you found us in my office.” If possible, her right
eyebrow went even higher, nearly touching her hairline.

Certain her face would crack into tiny pieces
if she attempted a smile, Charlie gathered her thoughts. “Can you
buy it back?”

The older woman sputtered. “B-buy, it back?!
Of all the ridiculous notions you’ve come up with over the years,
Charlotte.”

Desperation took hold and escalated. “What
about my trust fund? Will you release it to me?”

The woman avoided looking at her. “No, of
course not. You are not capable of handling that sum of money. Your
father knew that.”

For the first time she could recall, she grew
angry with the man. “Why would he tie up my money with you?”

She made a noise in the back of her throat.
“Charlotte King, who do you think created those trust funds and
kept King’s afloat for all these years? Me, that’s who.”

“The last twenty or so,” she said aloud,
“since Father died.”

“Hah! Before that. Long before that. He was a
great salesman, a genius when it came to people. Why they just fell
in love with him the moment they met him-same thing with you.”

“Me?” All she could do was blink at this
woman who’d given her a compliment. Back-handed, but a compliment
nonetheless, she noted.

Her stepmother rose and went to the drink
cabinet. “Any for you?”

She pressed her hand to her flip-flopping
belly. “No, thank you.”

The woman gulped back one and poured the
next. Turning toward Charlie, she said, “Yes, you have that same
charisma as your father did. I worked for him, in the accounting
department, soon after he opened the store.”

Charlotte never knew that fact.

“Oh, what a charmer. He made everyone feel as
if he was only interested in them.” She sat down beside Charlie and
visibly shivered. “Electricity.”

“I’m not sure I need to hear this part,”
Charlie chimed in, not wanting to see that visual.

“I was young, impressionable. I thought he’d
leave your mother for me.”

Charlie sucked in a sharp breath.

The older woman reached out and touched her
arm uncomfortably, and then drew back. “I didn’t steal him. I left
King’s. Business was booming then. But a few years later, after you
were born, and your mother was dying, he was beside himself. Doctor
after doctor, bills after bills. He would have done anything for
her.” She choked out the last. “The company was near
bankruptcy.”

“No,” Charlie gasped, stunned at the
insight.

“He may have watched his pennies as you girls
like to say, but if there are no pennies, then there’s nothing to
watch, is there?” She gazed down at the amber liquid in her glass.
“I’d already been married, had the girls, and was no longer
married. Your father asked me to come back. He needed me to help
him with the business.”

“So you went.”

She sighed heavily. “Yes. Soon after your
mother passed away. That’s all he had left. You and King’s. He held
on dear to both. And I,” she bit her lip, “I was relentless in
comforting him.”

The news didn’t surprise her at all. Her
stepmother was ruthless when she wanted something.

Getting up from the sofa, the older woman
turned away sharply. “I loved him,” she said without a hint of
excuse in her tone. “I built up that company by his side. I was the
one who saved it then. I brought it back from the brink.”

Confused, Charlie asked, “So why refuse these
last few years? Didn’t you want to see it thrive? We could still do
it. Time is still on our side.” She stopped just short of
begging.

Her stepmother whirled around. “Well, time is
not still on
my
side. I want a life. For once I want what I
want, not someone else’s dream. King’s Department Store died a long
time ago, Charlotte; you refuse to see that fact.”

If she’d had a dagger, it couldn’t have cut
Charlie to the quick any faster than her words had. “Then let me do
it. My trust fund—”

“Isn’t enough.”

“What about mine?” Francine asked, coming
into the room.

Priscilla was close on her heels. “And
mine.”

“Girls!” Their mother’s shocked voice
reverberated in the room.

Charlotte stood and went to her stepsisters,
hugging both of them. When she released them, she said, “Thank you,
but I can’t ask you to do it.”

“You’re not and we want to,” Priscilla said
matter-of-factly.

“Over my dead body,” the older woman warned,
gaining their full attention. “Absolutely not. I will have complete
control of your trust funds, even after I die; it’s in my
will.”

“Mother!” Francine’s horror-filled voice
seemed to echo all of their feelings.

“But, but,” Priscilla sputtered. “You swore
we could do what we wanted with it. After we’re thirty.”

Her eyebrow rose again and her lips became
even more pinched. “I lied.”

The gasps that surrounded Charlie caused her
to reach out and grab hold of her swaying stepsisters. The truth
was too ugly to bear.

“Why, Mother? Why would you say such a thing
when it wasn’t true?”

The older woman refused to answer.

“Why the trust funds, then? Why create them
when you had no intention of honoring them?” Charlie asked in
confusion. A wave of understanding took hold. “Father would never
have allowed you to have all the money after he died. So you
convinced him this was for the best. He agreed. You’re the
executrix. You get paid for maintaining them.”

“And don’t forget she doesn’t have to pay
taxes on the money this way either,” Priscilla chimed in.

Charlie continued, “Yes, the girls get an
allowance—”

“A pittance,” Francie pointed out.

“You, Stepmother, manipulated everything.”
Charlie’s

words tumbled out as the thoughts rushed in
her mind. “And still do.”

This time, the woman seemed to shrink right
before their very eyes. She sank down into a nearby chair. Tears
welled. “I had to keep you close.” She waved a hand in Charlie’s
direction. “I knew she’d never accept me. I didn’t care, not as
long as I still had you two.”

“So you controlled their every move by
dangling the money over their heads,” Charlie said softly, cringing
at that.

Feeling her stepsisters shake, she gently led
them to the sofa to sit. She planted herself between the pair.
Grasping their hands, she asked, “And what about marrying them
off?”

Waving at them as if to dismiss that
question, she said, “I’ll choose the husbands they need. Rich, yet
malleable. In the meantime, I’ll still have them to do as I say and
I’ll be able to arrange their marriages to my liking. And to top it
all off, once they’re married or by the time they’re thirty, I’ll
have more control of the bulk of the funds. Why else would I hunt
for spouses for them now?”

“Dictate to them and their husbands to get
your hands on the money?” Even Charlie had a difficult time
believing the absurdity of that concept.

“But Alex won’t allow that,” Priscilla
pointed out.

“No,” her mother sighed heavily, “but then I
could never control Charlotte, now could I?” She halted for a
moment. “That’s why she doesn’t have a trust fund.”

“What?!” Charlie and her sisters asked in
unison.

“Nothing. Not a dime for you, Charlotte
King.”

Charlie felt the color drain from her face.
Her stepmother tricked her father and now her. Did her stepmother
hate her that much? Or did she love money more?

“It’s her family’s money,” Francie
protested.

Dawning hit Charlie then. “That’s why you
agreed to my marriage to Alex. There was no trust fund, but he was
rich. Rich enough to buy the store. You really did sell me
off.”

“The girls had no prospects in sight. So,
yes, he did have the money I needed to retire.”

“Royale Enterprises, you mean,” Charlie
muttered under her breath.

Beside her, Francine shook even more.
“Mother, how could you do this to Charlie, to us? You treat us
nothing like real women. We have thoughts, ideas—”

“Feelings,” Priscilla added.

“Hopes and dreams,” Charlie tacked on.

“You?” the older woman snapped back. “Hah!
You’re so busy trying to chase a dead man’s dreams. Far-fetched,
ridiculous dreams, he couldn’t even achieve. You think I have no
life? Well, look at your own, Charlotte. You had nothing but
back-breaking day in and day out work before I stepped in and
arranged your marriage. Now, at least you have a future.”

Charlie saw clearly now. There was some truth
in what the woman said. Her stepmother’s crushed hopes, sense of
rejection, loneliness, anger, hurt, greed, and jealousy all clung
to her like a second skin. She paid the highest price of all.
Love.

She’d never had the love she’d wanted. No,
she’d had to compete with King’s Department Store, her father’s
obsession with making it a success, her mother, Charlotte, and even
her own two daughters.

With this new discovery, Charlotte gazed long
and hard at her stepmother. She saw herself in thirty years. Oh,
maybe not the bitter, cold woman sitting across from her, but the
loss of herself. For what? Pushing people away? The drive, the
ambition, and the success? Money? Would they be her only companions
late at night? Would she always sacrifice herself?

A secondhand life?
Is that what she
wanted for herself?

A cold shiver raked her body.

Francine stood. On shaky legs, Charlie joined
her and so did Priscilla. “I won’t stand for this a moment longer.”
She turned to Charlie. “Do you still have your apartment? You
haven’t sublet it yet, have you?”

“No, it’s still available.”

“We’ll take it,” Priscilla said, strength
growing in her voice.

Charlie could only imagine the two women in a
cramped loft.

“I won’t let you,” their mother
exclaimed.

“You can’t stop us.” Francine, with fisted
hands on her hips, faced her mother.

“You have no money. Your disobedience
warrants me to discontinue your allowance. It’s in the will.”

“You’ll cut us off? So be it,” Priscilla
said, folding her arms over her chest. “I would rather be broke
than living the miserable life you’ve created for us. Piano
lessons, please! I stink at the piano. And I hate wearing black
dresses all the time.”

Francine said, “Well, it’s going to be easy
to pack, now won’t it?”

Less than an hour later, Charlotte and her
stepsisters, dragging a suitcase each, closed the door behind
them.

In the background, she could still hear her
stepmother shouting, “Girls, girls! I demand you stop this nonsense
immediately.”

Climbing into the back of the awaiting
taxicab, Charlotte turned to each one. “Are you sure about this?”
She was certain there was no turning back now.

“Hell, yes!” the twosome shouted with
joy.

Charlie was afraid of that. Just what in the
world was she doing? For all intents and purposes, the girls needed
tutoring. Living independently didn’t come naturally to women who
were used to be taken care of all their lives. And Charlie knew she
would be the one to assist them. Some example she’d be. How could
she help them when she couldn’t even save herself or, most likely,
her marriage?

Much later that night, in the shadowed store,
Charlie wandered through each department, lovingly trailing her
hands over the display cases. In the linen department, she sunk
down on the edge of the perfectly made double bed and rested her
face in her hands, her elbows digging into her knees.

“All this,” she whispered, “will be gone in
just a few days.” Six weeks had flown by and now it was time to
face facts. “The cold, hard facts.” Tears smarted her eyes. “King’s
no more.”

“Miss Charlie, that you? You all right?”
Bruno’s voice yanked her from her pity party.

She sat up, dropping her hands to her lap.
“No date for you?”

“Wife’s out with the girls tonight.” He
pointed to a spot by her. “Mind?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Pull up a seat and
sit a spell, my friend.”

He dropped down, his weight shifting the bed.
Their shoulders bumped briefly. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Tired?”

“And then some.”

She hated to see him like this. “I thought
you were going to retire a few years back.”

“Ah, you know, I can’t seem to let go of this
place.”

Swallowing hard, she looked away from him.
“Me neither.”

“Lots of people here like that. A lot of the
old-timers could’ve retired a while back, but decided to stay on.
Gets in their blood, you know.” He laughed at himself. “Well, it is
in your blood.”

She chuckled, but there was a sad edge to it.
Then she recalled their devotion to her. “I don’t want all of you
staying because of me.”