Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt sweat. I’m still in my story I’ve been working on for a while.

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By the time I got back to the mayor’s office with the contract, I heard Bethany say, “Well, if you can’t accommodate the mayor’s changes, we may have to reconsider using your company in the future.”

Luckily she had them on speaker phone and as I walked in, I said, “This is Heather and I have the contract here. It looks like we’re past the change deadline and I’m sorry for the call. Please continue as you are and we anticipate a full delivery of the order we previously placed on Friday morning as per the agreement.”

I shuddered at the expressions on both the mayor and Bethany’s faces but their little plot had to be thwarted.

“Are you sure, Heather? We don’t want any problems with your office. We enjoy participating in the city’s events,” Margie from the bakery said.

“You’re not going to have a problem with me. It was an internal mix up. Don’t worry about it.” I lifted my hand to silence Bethany as I saw her mouth open to make some statement. “We’ll let you go. We know you’re busy. Sorry for the interruption and don’t sweat it. No changes will be needed.”

I disconnected the call and slammed the contract down on the table. Before the mayor could make a move, I flipped to the last page. “This is your signature. Yours. Not mine.” Then I flipped to page four and pointed to three items in turn. “Petit fours. Flavors and your initials. Half sheet cake. Flavors and your initials. Large tiered cake. Flavors, design and your initials.”

Bethany opened her mouth again. I held my hand up like a crossing guard. “Wait.” I flipped to page five. “Read the portion under paragraph eight. I jabbed my right index finger on the paragraph titled damages in case of nonperformance. “You’re welcome to peruse the whole thing, Bethany. But I just saved the city thousands of dollars under this paragraph as you can see. The deadline to make changes was ten days before the event. At this moment in time, we’re four days from the event. With your unwanted interference, we might have been without any refreshments if the bakery had just decided not to perform based on the city’s violation of the contract. And we’d still have had to pay them. So, if you want to contribute to the food and drink of the day, feel free to make the gallons and gallons of punch we need to serve.” I wanted to make a dramatic exit, but I sat at the table with them. Mostly to be sure they didn’t try to call the bakery again.

The mayor glared at me. “You shouldn’t have interrupted us on that call. It was insubordinate.”

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt Burned. I am still working on the same story with the buried treasure and the wacky former best friend of the heroine.

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By the time I got to his office, the two of them were sitting all cozy and chummy as if they were at a coffee shop sharing a latte.

“Glad you could join us, Heather,” the mayor said. “Bethany thinks we should call the bakers and ask for red velvet cake with cream cheese icing.”

I knew, absolutely, if I just gave in and told her to take over that the disaster coming would be laid at my feet when it all went wrong in four days. I didn’t particularly want to get into an argument with them but these details had been ironed out weeks ago.  He even had signed off on the plans. “Let me go grab my notebook and the contracts and we can go over them.”

I started to back out the door to go get the binder when Bethany held her left hand up to stop me. “Let’s not worry about that. Tell you what. I’ll call over there and make the changes. You don’t need to worry about a thing.

“Listen. I don’t know what you’re both thinking, but we have signed documents that are legally binding. You can’t just change the order four days before the event.” I paused. “Actually, more like three days since they have to deliver early Friday morning.”

“You always worry your pretty head about the small details, Heather. Let Bethany handle this. It’ll all be okay. Everyone in town likes me and wants to make me happy so this won’t be a big deal.” The mayor leered at Bethany. “Right, doll? It’s all under control.”

I didn’t know what to say. This was going to end up as a fiasco and it didn’t look like I’d be able to salvage it. The bakery was not going to be pleased. I couldn’t go over his head as he was in charge. The city might very well be on the hook for more money with changes this late in the day. And it would come back to bite me in the butt and I’d be burned like I stuck my hand in a fire. I had no idea what to do. “I’m still going to get the contracts. I’ll be right back.”

I left the room with dread in my heart. This is not good. Is Bethany trying to sabotage me into losing my job? She doesn’t have the Qualifications to take my job, but the way she was sucking up to the old goat, he sure could give it to her.

I wanted to rage and scream. It was like watching a hurricane approach the coast for four days and knowing you couldn’t do a thing about it to make it not come and destroy your city. Helpless in the wake of hurricane Bethany. Will I still have a job Friday evening? And here I was thinking Annette was the worst of my problems.

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, cold. I am still in the same story about the buried treasure and the psycho former friend.

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A cold chill ran down my back. “Make bond? She’s been in and out of the county jail all weekend. Just how many chances does she get to try to harm someone?”

“Ma’am, there are very few crimes where there is no bond. I’m sure the judge will have all the facts and set a fair amount.”

“Fair to who? Her or me? Large enough to keep me safe by keeping her inside? Or small enough to make it easy for her to get out?”

“The judge has to balance both of those factors.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him either way. And it probably didn’t.

“Quite frankly, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Most likely there will be a provision that she can’t come within so many feet of you. If she does, the bond will be revoked and she’ll be locked up.”

“But maybe not before she makes good on her threat.”

The icy chill ran down my back again. I was convinced Annette was going to really hurt someone and I didn’t want to imagine how bad it might have to get before the legal system actually tried to stop her or even to get her some assistance for what clearly was some sort of mental breakdown. No matter how scared I was, I didn’t wish her any bad outcome, but I also didn’t want her to hurt me, Levi or any of the women he’d been seeing.

“You’ll be safe for tonight for sure as she’s in lockup and first appearances are set for 8:30 in the morning. We can send a patrol car by once in a while when she posts bond. Check in on you.”

I didn’t think that would do a bit of good if Annette was determined to hurt me, but another thought occurred to me before I voiced that one. “Do you have any idea what she said there in the gun shop? She must have specifically named me for you to first go to my grandparents’ home before coming here.”

He made a grimace. “What the guy at the gun shop said she said was, “My former best friend, Heather and my fiance Levi are going to pay for what they did to me. Heather has been staying at the big house her grandparents own on Main Street. They’re going to be in for a big surprise tonight when I get there.” And then she asked to see the biggest hunting knife in the case. The owner told her he had to go to the back to get the key and that’s when he called us.”

Happy Tuesday. it’s time again for the snippets of Tuesday Tales where a group of writers write to the same word every week. I am still in my story about the buried treasure. We’re writing to the word touch this week.

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A booming knock on my door caused me to jump. “I gotta go, Grandma. I think that’s the cop.” At least I hoped it was.

“Don’t open the door until you’re sure. It could be that Annette. Call me back. I’ll be right by the phone waiting.”

The booming knock came again. “Coming,” I called out.

Disengaging the call as I stood, I walked over to the door and peered out the small pane of glass inset there. Yep. Cop.

I opened the door. “What’s going on? My grandmother called me about something to do with my friend Annette.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His hands on his utility belt, he nodded at the interior of my apartment. “May I come in?”

He looked about my age so the ma’am stung a bit, but maybe he was required to address people as ma’am and sir. I let it go without comment. “Come on in and please explain what is happening.”

“A woman named Annette Bowling made a threat on your life at Mike’s gun shop—”

“Gun shop?” Stunned, I staggered backward and almost fell. “She was going to shoot me?” All the blood drained from my head.

The cop grabbed my arm to steady me. “Hang on. She wasn’t buying a gun. She was buying a hunting knife.”

“Oh and that makes it better?” I reeled, snatching hold of the back of the closest chair.

He had the grace to look abashed. “Not a whole lot but if someone pulls a knife on you, you have a better chance of putting a safe distance between you and them than if they have a gun.”

“Point taken, but a hunting knife is still terrifying.”

“Yes ma’am, it is.”

“How did you figure out she was planning to come after me and not someone else?” My legs were rubber and I was on the verge of collapsing. “I’m going to have to sit down. Would you like to take a seat?” Something dripped in my left eye. I touched my forehead. It was clammy with sweat.

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt bread. I must have subconsciously read the word prompt a week ahead as when I went to check what was next, I had already put bread in my tale. So, I didn’t cheat, but my brain was working overtime. LOL!

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When I got home, I decided to take my mind off Annette by looking online for more information on the initials I had that were on the silver bracelet I found. I also decided to try to find something on different styles of lavalieres over the years and hoped to be able to locate what local jewelry store might have carried some in stock. Of course, there was no way to tell what area the thing even came from. The girl could’ve met the fraternity brother who gave it to her at any number of colleges since there was no sign at all of where the boy who gave it to his love went to school.

As I clicked on the various pictures of lavalieres trying to find one similar to the one I’d found, a bit of helplessness overpowered me for a few moments. I mean, what really were the chances of being even remotely successful in reuniting this jewelry with either the true owner or someone related to her? I wasn’t sure why I was so sure what I was doing was important, but I sure felt the pressure to make sure it happened.

After about a half hour, I was ready to give the whole thing up. Who knew this one piece of jewelry could be so hard to identify? How many different styles of these things could have been made? It was ridiculous. 

I set that search aside and focused on the bracelet initials. Surely that part would be easy. Of course, I thought the fraternity necklace would be. What do I know? Pretty much nothing,

Resisting the urge to slap my palm down on the keyboard, I decided to get up and get myself something to eat. Maybe after I filled my belly, I’d get into a better groove and find some answers.

After a bowl of cream of broccoli soup and a wedge of the olive bread my grandmother gave me the other day, I felt slightly more optimistic about my quest. Not a lot, but somewhat.

With renewed energy, I opened a new tab and put the words, Sigma Alpha Epsilon jewelry, into the search field. Maybe a wider net of the word jewelry over the word lavaliere would result in some usable hits. Couldn’t hurt.

To my surprise, there were actually quite a number of different styles of jewelry both for men and women in the area of Greek life jewels. Even some with precious stones and 18 karat gold. Must be for the wealthy frat boy. I laughed. Aren’t they all from money?

Maybe not. I had known some boys in college who seemed like the poor relations to their frat brothers. Who knew? All I knew was I’d steered clear of those organizations. I wasn’t a joiner of that sort. And my friends that were didn’t quite stay the same as before they signed up to memorize the Greek alphabet and swear undying fealty to some pact that they made to each other. Yeah, not for me. 

Good Tuesday morning. This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt, quick. Pop by and visit all of us and leave a comment. We love comments.

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After Levi and my grandad debated which apostle was on the spoon and couldn’t reach a consensus, Levi left with a promise to Grandad to do some research on that as well as the research he’d already committed to helping me with.

Grandma got home almost soon enough to have passed Levi in the driveway. I stayed and chatted for a while but took my leave within about twenty minutes of Levi.

I stopped at Walgreens on the way home as I remembered I was almost out of toothpaste and I wouldn’t have time the rest of the week to do much for myself until that reception for the visiting Spanish dignitaries was over. My boss was a prime jerk as well as a perfectionist so I knew what my week would be in advance. If I didn’t need to keep working this job in order to make my resume look better, I’d quit. Sadly, in this day and age, leaving a job after less than a year was frowned upon. It made one look like they were hard to get along with. Even if the boss was an utter jerk, it would look like sour grapes to have to explain to a prospective employer that you left a job because the boss was an ass. They might wonder what I might say about them someday. And of course, this politician I worked for would put on the charm campaign if the prospective employer called him for a reference. So, for now, I stay where I am.

All this was running through my mind as I walked toward the oral care aisle. I might as well grab mouthwash while I’m here. I glanced down toward that part of the aisle.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough to see that coming toward me was exactly who I didn’t want to see. Annette.

Too late to duck to the dog food aisle and hide behind a jumbo bag of kibble, I had no choice but to acknowledge her.

Not wanting to lead off with, “Oh, congrats on not being in jail,” instead, I said, “I popped in for toothpaste. What’s your Sunday afternoon pharmacy emergency?”

“Oh, so you’re going to play it like that?”

Okay so the girl is still unstable and ready for a fight. Trying to keep her on an even keel, I shook my head slightly. “I’m not playing around. I just asked a question. Sorry you’re still angry at me for some reason. I’ll let you get on with it.” I indicated the Colgate section just past where she stood at the Crest section. “Let me grab this and I’ll get out of your way.”

She reached for my arm, but I twirled away from her, pulling my body out of her reach. “You’re in enough trouble so I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”