My eyes filled with tears. Don’t ask me how I was doing it. I read something once that said you have to think of something that makes you really sad to conjure tears, but for me, I would have considered these tears of joy.
I had a foot in the door. I was going to be a volunteer, and our dear Lola just took me in with wide-open arms because of a made-up sob story and a few crocodile tears.
Truth is, Marriott, I didn’t have a miscarriage when I was eighteen. I had an abortion. I did want to keep the baby, though, so it was like a loss, wasn’t it?
Look, I told you not to judge me. I couldn’t afford to have a baby, and the guy who’d knocked me up was a complete asshole and wouldn’t have been a good father.
Xavier was bad news and you know it. I was barely making ends meet at eighteen, so if anything, I was sparing that baby from a life of struggle, hopelessness, and anger. I didn’t want the baby to end up like me—alone and mad at the world. I had to build up my life first. I was too young for a baby.
For a while I didn’t know how I’d build my life and make it greater, but then you gave me a name, Marriott. I found the face that went with that name and my whole perspective on life changed.
This rich woman in front of me owed me her life, and the only way I was going to be able to provide for myself was if I took what she had. I wanted a child one day, but I had to make sure the child could be protected and taken care of financially first.
I walked out the door of Lola’s office after Noah scanned my ID, still carrying on with my hopeless-girl charade as I walked past Olivia, but when I got inside my car, I did a small jig, glad I had won Lola over.
There was more work to be done, though. Lots more. This was just the beginning. The next step was going to be the trickiest, but if I could get her to believe my made-up story, I could get her to believe almost anything.
I know how fucked up it is to lie about something as serious as a miscarriage, but it was the only way, Marriott. How else was I going to connect to the charity and to Lola?
She felt automatic sympathy for me because she could relate to what I’d gone through, and I was going to use that to my fullest advantage.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I couldn’t wait for Saturday to arrive.
Most times work went by in a flash, but it was slow the week after officially meeting Lola, not to mention the customers who did come in were starting to get under my skin. A few more months and I would be able to quit this damn job.
Still, Saturday rolled around eventually, and I wore a black maxidress with stud earrings to keep it subtle. I wanted to give off the appearance that I was well-off enough to look presentable, but that I could still use a hand if Lola ever wanted to generously offer a shopping spree and take care of the costs.
I dreamed of all the new clothes I could get with her at my side. I bet she didn’t have a shopping limit. I could shop ’til I dropped and still go back for more with her.
Lola liked to give. She was charming and kind, and between her and her husband, they made so much money that handing over fifty thousand dollars was probably like handing over a single dollar bill for them.
I got an email from Lola the same night she’d sent my application to Noah. She sent me the address of the location where the seminar for Passion Camp would be held. It was my desire to be prompt—show her that I was fully invested in becoming a volunteer.
I arrived at the place, which happened to be a Baptist church. There were already dozens of cars parked in the lot. I collected my purse and scurried right inside. I was greeted with smiles and hugs at the door and tried hard not to stiffen as they all wrapped their giving arms around me.
I had to get used to this. Hugs weren’t my thing, but I was Ivy Elliot, a nice young woman who loved to help and was so unassertive that it was almost embarrassing.
I signed in with one of the women at the tables and then walked into the room that was set up for our event. There were tables covered in white tablecloths, with sky-blue balloons and blue place settings. Many women stood around, mingling and sipping coffee or wine.