“Ah…no…I…”
But it was too late. They laughed and made their way to a dressing room.
“My, how the mighty have fallen,” Sasha said.
I put the dress back on the rack and started to the register. So much for hiding my impoverished life. It wouldn’t be long before the invitations to elite events and gatherings stopped.
“Ms. Francis.”
“Yes. I’ll take care—”
My boss stepped in front of me before I reached the register. “You think you’re too good for us, don’t you?”
I suppose I did, but I wasn’t going to admit to that.
“There are plenty of women who’d be happy to have this job.”
I was sure that was true too. “I’m sorry—”
“You’re fired.”
“What?” The bottom fell out of my stomach. Sure, I was resentful of my circumstances, but I needed this job. I was good at it.
“You think you’re better than all of us. Think you’re too good for this job. I don’t want you here anymore. You can pick up your last check at the end of the week.” She stepped up to the register and rang up the woman’s items.
I stood in the middle of the store, stunned.
I was still in a daze as I headed home.
Once in my apartment, I poured myself a large glass of wine and sat on the couch to have a pity party. I wasn’t so self-absorbed to know that my attitude was a problem.
But it wasn’t that I thought I was better than anyone else. My issue was in losing the life I’d been accustomed to.
That and the gossip, the looks, and snickers of people who’d once been my friends who now looked down on me because I wasn’t rich anymore. That is, except Harper.
Needing a friend, I called Harper and invited her over for day drinking. Harper was exactly the sort of woman I’d normally resent. She was filthy rich and didn’t have to work. I’d met her at a dinner party when I was hoping I could attract Dane MacLeod and marry into money.
I didn’t end up with a rich husband, but I did make a good friend.
Harper didn’t have a career per se. She used her beauty and social skills to help her brother in business deals because he was terrible when it came to people. She was also involved in a lot of charitable causes.
“I brought bourbon and whisky,” she said when she swept into my tiny run-down apartment.
“How’d you know?” I hadn’t told her my sob story over the phone.
“Day drinking usually means bad news. Plus, you’re supposed to be at work. Did you quit?”
I shook my head. “I was fired.”
She gaped. “Why? You’re so good. I’d have never bought that Chanel dress I wore to the Taggert party. But when you suggested it and the accessories, I was the best dressed woman there. I think three men proposed to me.”
She was joking, but it could be true. Harper was a stunning woman with money. Every man wanted her. She didn’t seem to have much interest in any of them though.
“I was trying to act like I didn’t work there when two of my former sorority sisters showed up. I really can’t afford to be a snob, but—”
“You’re not a snob.” She put her arm around me. “You’ve lived your life having financial security, and then it was ripped away. You don’t just change and stop being the person you were before.”
Of course, I’d had eight years to adjust, but I decided not to mention that. Instead, I got us glasses and we sat on my couch.