Carolina Mist Read Free

stepped out.
    Three men—all vaguely familiar and all wearing lightweight summer suits—got on at three and nodded in unison to Abby, who smiled wanly and dropped her eyes to the toes of her tan leather shoes, hoping to avoid even a cursory conversation.
    She walked across the lobby and through the front doors, then out onto the sidewalk, where she paused for a moment before turning to cross the street, leaving White-Edwards— and her brilliant future—behind.

 
     
     
     
     
    2
     
     
    T wo weeks, max, she assured herself as she fumbled with the key to her second-floor apartment. Probably less. With my resume, I should be able to walk into a great job by the end of the week.
    She dropped her purse and briefcase on the nearest chair and removed her dark green unlined silk jacket, walking into the neat bedroom to place it immediately on its hanger. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of iced raspberry herbal tea with hands that suddenly felt weak. After taking a few long sips, she leaned back against the counter, her left foot tapping out the passing seconds in agitation before she began unconsciously to pace back and forth in a narrow path between the stove and the sink.
    Eventually, she paced herself into the living room and slumped on the sofa, holding a throw pillow against her middle to force back the panic that had filled her and turned her legs to water. She heard herself sobbing as the fear and anger and confusion spilled out and splashed about her in heated waves. Knowing she could not stop it, now that it had begun, she gave in and cried mindlessly until her throat burned raw and her eyes were all but swollen closed. When the torrent had stopped, she sat motionless in a state of suspension, mentally protesting the improbable twist of fate that had taken all that she had prized most in her life.
    Abby’s job—her career—had been all she had, all she had wanted or needed. It had been her passport to independence, to security, to a future where she would never have to worry that what she had worked for could ever be taken from her.
    Working hard in college to shine as a bright light to corporate recruiters had gotten her through four tough years at the University of Pennsylvania. The entry-level job at White-Edwards, a small investment consulting firm, had been the best of the many offers she received. All the information she had gathered from her research indicated that the company was an up-and-comer, a company that rewarded hard work with promotions and good salary increases. Abby had been happy there, happy to work long hours for the satisfaction of knowing that her efforts were, in fact, noticed and applauded. Her goals had been so carefully defined. What, she wondered numbly, had gone wrong?
    Abby poured a cold drink and told herself she should eat something. She had four spoonfuls of yogurt before admitting she had no appetite. A shower would feel good, though, she thought, maybe wash away some of the despair along with the stickiness of the city she’d brought inside with her. She ran the water and stripped off her clothes, pausing to inspect herself in the mirror above the narrow sink.
    To say that she was small was an understatement. Having never grown past five feet, two inches, Abby always held herself as straight as possible, hoping to maximize what little height she had. Sh e had read once that dressing m onochromatically would make one look taller and thinner. Thin had never been an issue. Tall had, and so her business suits had always been of one solid line of color.
    A mass of light auburn curls tumbled around a tiny face. The palest smattering of freckles danced like the footprints of fairies across the bridge of her nose. Vanity had led her to cover them with makeup. How many top executives have freckles? she had thought with disgust. Her naturally arched brows rose above her pale amber eyes like parentheses. She might have just stepped out of the Irish mist. Someone had