CHAPTERTWO
Anne
There was a time I loved designer clothes. Everything from Chanel and Christian Dior to Versace, and all the other top designers.
Today, not so much.
Not since I stopped being able to afford buying them.
Walking through the luxury boutique, I resented that I was forced to sell the clothing as a retail worker instead of buying and wearing it. Chez Monceaux was one of the top women’s and men’s clothiers in Los Angeles. Everyone from the rich and famous, celebrities, and politicians bought clothes. For a time, I’d shopped there and so I felt like a loser than now I was working there.
I knew people would see me as shallow for such thoughts, but clothing and jewelry were my passions, and I didn’t mean shopping. I meant studying them, designing them, enjoying them.
My situation would be similar to an artist who couldn’t afford to buy art. A chef who couldn’t afford to cook.
Stop being a baby, Anne.
It wasn’t easy to go from riches to rags.
In some ways, I wished my father had cut me off as a child so I wouldn’t have grown accustomed to having money. I’d always known my father didn’t like me, but he’d raised me in affluence, provided an allowance, and paid for my college education.
The day I graduated, he cut me off. I was shocked.
When I asked him why, he said he’d done his duty by me, but now that I was an adult, it was time to grow up and support myself.
I might have bought that excuse if he’d done the same thing to my older brother, Peter. When I pointed out that Peter was still getting an allowance, my father shocked me even further by revealing the reason he hated me. “Peter didn’t kill his mother.”
My mother had died not long after giving birth to me and my father blamed me for it. There was no way to overcome that.
I made one final attempt at help, asking him to let me work for the company, just as Peter did, but it was clear that he’d tolerated me for twenty-one years and now he wanted me gone.
So, for the last eight years, I’d done what I could to maintain the illusion of coming from money while working at jobs that barely supported me.
Had I known I was going to be cut off, I might have chosen a college major that would have better supported me instead of art and design.
The bell chimed over the boutique door. I looked up from where I finished hanging the latest Ralph Lauren sweaters on the rack and my heart stopped at the two women who entered.
Danielle and Sasha were sorority sisters of mine back in college. Both had huge rocks on their left ring fingers and hair coloring that came from a very expensive salon. I remembered how they’d joke that they went to college to find a rich husband, which each of them did.
At the time, I thought they were silly. A woman didn’t need a man to be happy or successful.
I was too embarrassed to admit it, but when my father cut me off, I thought marriage to a rich man would be my savior. Turned out, I couldn’t even do that right.
Not wanting the women to see me in my down and out state, I ducked into the dressing area, hoping they’d browse and then leave. Just my luck, they entered the dressing area carrying a few clothing items. I grabbed an item hanging on the return rack, clutching it to me.
“Anne?” Danielle asked.
“Danielle, Sasha, hello. What a small world to run into you here.” I held the item up, only then realizing it was several sizes too big. “I was looking for something for the Appleton Charity Auction. Looks like I grabbed the wrong size.”
Sasha glanced at Danielle. “Wasn’t that last week?”
Oh God. She was right.
My boss appeared from around the corner. “Ms. Francis. There is a customer at the register.”
Danielle and Sasha’s brows rose.
“You work here?” Danielle asked. Their normal smiles morphed into smirks.