Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014 Read online

  Copyright

  ISBN 1-59310-655-6

  Copyright © 2005 by Joyce Livingston. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Prologue

  “Come on, you big scaredy-cat.” Eight-year-old Eleanor Baker stuck out her tongue at her closest friend and neighbor as she stepped out onto the ice, testing it with a little jump. “Don’t be such a big baby. It’ll be fun!”

  Shaking his head, Bobby Rachette plunked himself down on a nearby log, disgust clouding his face. “I don’t think we should, El, that ice looks pretty thin. What if we fall through?”

  Eleanor gave her head a flip then buttoned the top button on her parka. “Go ahead. Walk all the way around the pond if you’re afraid. I don’t need you, Bobby. I can go by myself!”

  “You’d better not.” Leaving his book bag on the ground, he struggled to his feet. “My mom said I should never go out on the ice unless my dad checks it first.”

  Planting her gloved hands on her hips, she jutted out her chin defiantly. “Well, it looks okay to me. See? I’m not falling through.”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her back then, shoving her behind him, spread his arms open wide, blocking her way. “Let me test it first. I weigh more than you do.”

  Eleanor wrapped her arms across her chest and shivered. “Okay, but you better hurry. I’m getting cold.”

  Carefully, he put one foot out on the ice then the other, and tested it with a small jump. “I guess it’s not cracking.”

  She responded with a flip of her head and a smirk. “See, I told you it was thick enough. Just because you’re better at arithmetic than I am doesn’t mean you’re smarter than me.”

  A skeptical frown screwed up his face. “I don’t know, El.” Using more force, he pounded his feet down hard. “It seems okay, but my dad says the ice might not be as thick out where the water is deeper. I think we’d better walk around the pond like we always do. What if it’d crack and we’d—”

  Eleanor gave her head an arrogant toss. “It looks fine to me. Go ahead! Walk all the way around if you want to. I’m crossing here.” Planting her palms on his chest and giving him a shove, she moved quickly past him and ran farther out onto the ice, calling back over her shoulder, “I’ll beat you to the other side, slowpoke!”

  “Come back, El! You’re being really dumb,” Bobby yelled after her, but Eleanor ignored his warning.

  She moved quickly across the glassy surface, taking long strides like an ice skater as a chilling breeze wrapped its icy tentacles around her and made her quiver. “You’re such a baby!” she called out with a frosty giggle.

  “El! Did you hear me? Come back!”

  “No! I’m having too much fun.” Grinning, she stopped momentarily and turned toward Bobby’s voice. He was standing at the edge of the pond, book bag in hand, looking glum and waving at her. “Go on! Walk all the way around. See if I care!” she shouted in a taunting voice, giving him a mocking flip of her hand. “Nanny, nanny, boo-boo! Bobby is a scaredy-cat!”

  “Your dad’s gonna whop you when he finds you went out on the ice!”

  “Then you better not tell him!”

  “Please, El! Come back. You’re scaring me.”

  But Eleanor didn’t want to go back. When she made up her mind to do something, no one, not even her father—who beat her unmercifully when she disobeyed—could stop her. She had the scars to prove it, too. Bobby had seen the welts and bruises on her arms and legs. So had his mother, many times, and she’d threatened to call the authorities. But Eleanor had begged her not to, reminding her that if she did, her father said he would not only take his anger out on her, but her mother and older sister, Eileen, as well. She’d rather take the beatings than have him hurt either one of them. He was an awful man and nothing like Bobby’s father.

  Fortunately, her father, who was rarely at home, preferred to spend most of his unemployed days at the local bar, giving his family a few hours of much-needed peace. But when he came roaring into the house, drunk and going into a fit of rage over the least little thing, they all ran for cover. She had counted the days until she would be old enough to run away from home and escape the cruel beatings and his abusive mouth. No man was ever going to treat her like that! She’d never be dependent on someone else to take care of her. She was going to make it on her own.

  The air whipped across the pond with bone-chilling force as Eleanor slid across the ice, pretending to be the star of an ice show. She imagined herself wearing a sparkly blue dress and beautiful white skates—the kind she’d seen in the Christmas catalog at Bobby’s house—as she whirled and twirled gracefully across the arena with thousands of people wildly clapping, some even throwing flowers out onto the ice like she’d seen them do on TV. What fun she was having. If only Bobby had come with her—they could hold hands and spin around together.

  Suddenly, she stopped, ceasing all motion. What was that sound?

  ❧

  Bobby watched until El was halfway across the frozen pond then, after pulling his stocking cap down over his ears, buttoned the top button on his jacket. Adjusting his hold on his book bag, he started around the edge of the pond, sending an occasional glance in Eleanor’s direction. Maybe he should have gone with her. She’d be on the other side long before he was. Besides, look at all the fun she was having gliding across the ice. Eleanor was the brave one, the one who was always willing to do risky things, like climb that skinny tree out in their backyard. Despite his warning, she’d climbed clear to the top, way up high where the branches were thin and yielding, and had fallen, breaking her arm when she’d hit the ground. Then there was the time she’d scaled old Mr. Harvey’s fence to get their baseball and been bitten by his dog. . . .

  “Bobby! Help!”

  His friend’s hair-raising scream sent him scurrying toward the pond.

  “The ice is cracking!”

  His mind raced. “Don’t move, El!”

  “I’m afraid! It’s making a funny noise!” she screamed shakily. “Help me, Bobby!”

  The fear in her voice terrified him. What should he do? Go for help? What if the ice broke and she fell through while he was gone?

  Feeling totally helpless, he glanced around quickly, hoping to find someone nearby, but no one was in sight. Help me, God! Don’t let El fall through the ice!

  “Bobby, help me! I’m scared!”

  What? What can I do? He surveyed the area, looking for anything that might help save her life. “I’ll help you, El! Don’t move!” he shouted, horrified at what might happen but wanting to encourage her. Wasn’t he always the one who came to her rescue when she was in trouble? He couldn’t let her down now! Not when her life may depend on him.

  Show me, God! Show me how to help her. Don’t let her die!

  There it was! The answer he needed. A partially buried, long, rotting length of a weathered board, its tip barely peeking out from under a span of de
nse growth at the edge of the pond. Bobby tugged with all his might and finally the board broke loose, letting him fall backward. “I’m coming, El!”

  Afraid the ice would not hold his weight and El’s, especially with the addition of the board, Bobby moved quickly to the pond, dropped nervously to his stomach, and inched his way toward the frightened Eleanor, pushing the board ahead of him.

  “Please hurry, Bobby! I think the ice is cracking more!”

  The terrified look on her face was all it took to make him move a little faster. “I’m almost there. Get down on your stomach then grab the end of the board when I push it toward you. Don’t push on the ice; just let me drag you.”

  Trembling, she did as she was told.

  Bobby began to scoot backward toward the shore, pulling the board and Eleanor along with him.

  When they were finally safe and on solid ground, Eleanor threw her arms around Bobby’s neck and began to cry.

  “It’s okay,” he told her, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I’d never let anything happen to you, El. You’re my best friend.”

  One

  Twenty-five years later

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Scrooge. I’ll never let it happen again. I—I never thought about showing her the matching sweater.”

  Pointing an elegantly manicured finger toward the costly cashmere sweater, Eleanor glared at the woman. “Do you realize you’ve just cost Scrooge’s Fashions a big sale? That customer would have bought that sweater, but, thanks to your ineptness, she didn’t even know it existed.” She paused, giving her words time to soak in. “You’re new, so I’m going to overlook it this time, but see to it you never let it happen again. Ask any of my employees; I’m not famous for giving second chances.”

  “I promise I won’t let it happen again.” The embarrassed woman lowered her head, avoiding her boss’s eyes. “Thank you, Mrs. Scrooge.”

  “She’s only worked for Scrooge’s a few weeks,” Karen Small, the fashion department manager said, apologizing as the chastised clerk backed away. “I’m sure it never occurred to her to show the customer the matching sweater.”

  Eleanor stopped and stared at Karen, her brow creased. “Then you need to accept half of the blame. It’s your job to make sure our employees are properly trained.”

  Karen started to protest but wisely let the words die on her lips. Eleanor didn’t tolerate back talk from her staff.

  “See to it you work with her.” Eleanor bent and picked up a gum wrapper from the floor. “Need I remind you that our business is glamour and style? Our customers depend on Scrooge’s to provide them with the latest fashions. I’ve structured this store to be a one-stop shopping experience for the most fastidious women and help others raise their fashion standards. We’re here to outfit them from head to toe—from beautiful jewelry to cosmetics to shoes and everything in between. They expect us to give them guidance. That customer needed that matching sweater. We did her a disservice by not showing it to her and giving her an opportunity to purchase it.”

  “I’m aware of that, Mrs. Scrooge. But it takes time to train a—”

  “Please. No excuses.” Eleanor rolled her eyes and held her flattened palm toward Karen, allowing her words to take on an even icier tone for effect. “Remember, Karen, the salespeople in your department are a reflection of you. If they don’t look good, you don’t look good. I promoted you to manager of your department because I thought you were capable of handling the position. See to it you don’t disappoint me again.”

  “Excuse me!” A matronly woman waved her hand at the pair as she came out of a fitting room wearing a gorgeous, chartreuse tunic embellished with big, red, sequin-trimmed roses. “Do you think white pants would look better than the chartreuse pair? I’m afraid maybe this is too much color for me.”

  Karen moved to the woman’s side immediately. “The chartreuse pants look wonderful on you, ma’am. The continuation of the chartreuse from your shoulders to your ankles creates an almost monochromatic look, giving you a long, fluid, complementary line.” She gave a glance back over her shoulder at Eleanor, as if to say, “See? I do know my business.”

  The woman moved to one of the nearby mirrors and began to turn from one way to the other, admiring the fit and color of the garments. “I see what you mean. I’ll take both pieces.”

  “You really look lovely in that color.” Eleanor moved up close and stood gazing admiringly into the mirror over the woman’s shoulder. “It’s very smart of you to take both the chartreuse and the white pants. Think of the versatility they will give you. It will be like having two entirely different outfits, and white always looks so crisp and cool. Will you be wearing these on a cruise?”

  The customer smiled and nodded at Eleanor’s reflection. “Yes, in two weeks. My husband and I are celebrating our fortieth anniversary.”

  Eleanor raised her eyes, feigning surprise. “Your fortieth anniversary? Really? My, you don’t look a day older than fifty! Surely you didn’t get married when you were ten!”

  “I’m sixty-five,” the woman said proudly.

  “I never would have guessed it. You look so young. A fortieth wedding anniversary is a very special occasion. What are you going to wear to the captain’s formal night reception?”

  Turning from the mirror, the woman gave her a puzzled stare. “I haven’t decided. I have a nice black cocktail dress. I thought I’d wear either a string of pearls with it or maybe a sequined chiffon scarf of some sort.”

  Eleanor reached for her hand. “Come with me. I have something you must see.” Adrenaline pumped through her body. She loved an opportunity to show off her salesmanship—the thing that had made Everett Scrooge sit up and take notice of her many years ago when she’d first been hired on at Scrooge’s. She led the woman to the evening wear section and seated her in one of the plush velvet slipper chairs. “You sit right there and let me show you what I think would be perfect for that cruise of yours.” She gave the woman her best winsome smile. “It’s not every day you get to celebrate your fortieth anniversary.”

  Two hours later, Eleanor stood beside her customer as the woman prepared to exit the store after having purchased seven outfits, seven pairs of shoes, three handbags, a variety of lingerie, a new bathing suit with matching pareo, two nightgowns with matching robes, bedroom slippers, three pairs of chandelier earrings with matching necklaces, a bottle of very expensive perfume, and an anniversary gift for her husband. “Your husband is going to be so proud of you! I know you’ll have a wonderful time on your cruise. Your lovely new things will be delivered to your home on Thursday.”

  The woman gave her an appreciative smile. “I can’t thank you enough for all your help, Mrs. Scrooge. You’re a fashion genius.”

  Eleanor found herself beaming. “Thank you, Mrs. Cahill. I do try to stay informed. My trips to Paris keep me abreast of fashion trends long before they come to the United States.” She conjured up her best smile. “It was my pleasure to assist you. I’m here anytime you need me. Now don’t forget the appointment we set up in our new beauty salon for next week to have your hair cut and colored.”

  “I won’t!” The woman waved as she stepped outside.

  Eleanor watched until Mrs. Cahill disappeared from sight then hurried back to find Karen. “I hope you were watching,” she told her when she found her redressing a mannequin. “What could have been a minor sale turned into one of the biggest of the day by using a little salesmanship.”

  “But all she was shopping for was a tunic and pants!” Karen countered, shrugging her slim shoulders. “She never mentioned needing any of those other items. That was remarkable salesmanship, Mrs. Scrooge. ”

  “That tunic set may have been all she came in for, but not all she needed. What she really needed were eye-catching clothes to take on the cruise to celebrate her anniversary and make her husband proud of her.” Eleanor glanced at her watch. “I’m exactly two hours and nineteen minutes behind schedule, thanks to you and your inept associate. If you two had done your
jobs, I wouldn’t have had to do it for you. It might be a good idea for you to purchase some books on salesmanship. What you learn you can pass on to the ladies in your department. I want this to be the best year Scrooge’s has ever had, and we’re depending on your department to be the major part of it.”

  Without waiting for a response, Eleanor made her way to her office at the far end of the second floor of the three-building complex known as Scrooge’s. “Send Bob into my office and hold my calls,” she barked out at Ruthie, her assistant of ten years, as she passed by her desk. “And get that awful-looking plant off your desk. It looks like a leftover from a funeral.”

  Being one of the few who didn’t quake when Eleanor spoke, Ruthie snickered. “Well, aren’t we in a good mood today.”

  “I should be. I just turned a minor sale into a bonanza,” she called back, smiling victoriously over her shoulder. After closing her door, she hurried into the little powder room she’d added when she’d bought their latest building and applied a new coat of lipstick and a dab of powder, something she did with regularity. As the president and CEO of one of the finest and most exclusive women’s fashion and department stores in the northeast, she was determined to look the part at all times.

  “You wanted to see me?” a male voice asked as the door to her office opened a crack.

  She placed her makeup in the drawer, turned off the light, and walked toward her desk with a practiced stance that would put any model to shame, motioning to a chair on her way. “Are we going to make our projection this week?” she asked, sitting down in the tapestry-covered desk chair.

  He pulled a paper from a file folder and handed it to her. “I’ve already run the totals. If the weekend holds up, I’d say we’ll finish about eight percent over our projection.”

  She perused the paper carefully. “Umm, not bad, but we could do better.”

  “You’ve already set each department’s quota so high the sales staff is in a panic. Maybe you should ease up a bit, El.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Ease up? Why? We’ll never make our projections that way.”