HELP!!!
Hey guys, I have a rough draft of a short story I need to finish for Creative Writing. I'm in a bit in a pickle about how to end it or what kind of twist I might use. I'm posting it here. Any suggestions on how to end it would be fabulous, because I'm sick of looking at this story. It's only supposed to be about ten pages, and it's already there, so I'm looking to wrap it up.
I really didn't want to write this story, but I started it this way because I had to have something to turn in for an assignment for Creative Writing. I didn't know it would have to be the permanent subject of my story. Then, my professor wouldn't let me start over, so this is what i have to work with.
Elizabeth stared at the screen, her fingers rhythmically tapping each key in quick succession. She sat hunched in her overly large office chair while she watched the greeting script appear for Facebook.com.
“Go on. Look him up,” Sylvia urged, eagerly shifting from foot to foot.
“I don’t know. He just asked me to lunch. That shouldn’t require a background check,” said Elizabeth.
“What’s it going to hurt?”
“Nothing, I suppose.”
Elizabeth nodded letting a light-hearted gurgle escape her lips. The name George Wren rapidly filled the white space of the search box.
She clicked on the first linked that display George’s name along with Taylor University.
“Jackpot,” she said as his profile page appeared.
Elizabeth knew that Sylvia was right. Checking a guy’s Facebook profile was the easiest way to identify whether her date was a potential boyfriend material or stalker. She scrolled the page with Sylvia peering over her shoulder. Twin intakes of breath signaled that they had both reached the “Looking For:” subtitle.
“Random play. Whatever I can get,” Sylvia said.
“Sounds like he plans to ravish me on our first date,” said Elizabeth.
“Be serious.”
“I am. I think he’s a criminal.”
“I don’t he should joke about stuff like that.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Sylvia took life way too seriously. She spent an entire month their freshmen year planning out the rest of her life. Although, someone needed to inform Sylvia’s fiancee that he was a year behind schedule.
Elizabeth looked at the rest of George’s profile, realizing that he used Facebook as a medium for humor. A neon white computer nerd with a killer smile, George would never have a part-time job as a Chippendale’s dancer. He also professed interests in hamburgergaling and watching Girls Gone Wild advertisements. She flicked her eyes up catching the corners of Sylvia’s mouth start their downward descent.
“What,” Elizabeth asked.
“I don’t think it’s meant to be,” said Sylvia.
“I think I can be the judge of that.”
Sylvia shifted, her right hip jutting out. “It’s just; he’s so different from us.”
Elizabeth conceded the point. Sylvia was right. George was very different from the person she portrayed to her roommate.
Their parents, who were friends of nearly thirty years, had insisted that Sylvia and Elizabeth room together at Taylor, because they knew the girls would be instant friends. Their friendship had blossomed quickly too, once Elizabeth realized she had a live-in spy. There was no escaping Sylvia either, because as soon as she opted to move out, her parents would instantly become suspicious of her motives.
However, in her classes, she was able relax, be herself, and try to forget the mask her roommate required her to put on every time she entered their room.
Elizabeth slung her knapsack down next to her chair. Pulling out her laptop, she noticed George’s devilish grin aimed at her. He had his sketchbook out where he carefully crafted an angel on one thick page. He had given the angel a sweet, heart-shaped face and a fiercely determined expression. It was a stunningly beautiful portrayal of opposites.
“George, that’s amazing! How do you think that stuff up,” Elizabeth asked. George moved his shoulders up and down in a muscular ripple.
“I thought I told you to call me Greg.”
“You did. I just like the sound of George. After British History, I have a fetish for king’s names.”
“Well, in that case, go ahead.”
“You’re so arrogant.”
George cocked an eyebrow leaning in toward her with his elbow slumped against the desk. “I know.”
“Yeah, I think you may be right,” Elizabeth conceded.
“I am. You know I’m excellent at giving advice.”
Elizabeth knew she would keep her dates a secret for as long as possible, before her parents found out, which they always did. Sylvia could read every nuisance of Elizabeth’s attitude. A slight change in eating habits, a scone instead of steamed broccoli, and the Gestapo would be on her. Then, the only opinion that mattered would be that of Sylvia.
She was twenty-one, and they still trusted her best friend’s judgment over her own. Her parents thought she was too rash. They harbored the illusion she going to school to become a computer engineer and earn a six figure salary. Instead, she slyly worked against the friction Sylvia posed to work her own agenda, free from her parents' overprotective whims.
“Give him a call.” said Sylvia.
“I’ll call him later,” said Elizabeth.
Elizabeth pulled a rumpled corner of notebook paper from her pocket. She studied the numbers silkily written by a black ballpoint pen. She knew that Sylvia would want to listen to her phone call, so she could believe her roommate had closure. Faking the phone call might work Elizabeth thought, but at the expense of fake . . .
Sylvia leaned over and plucked the scrap of paper from Elizabeth’s fingers.
“Give that back.” said Elizabeth.
Sylvia giggle and skipped out of Elizabeth’s long armed reach. Pulling her red razor phone from her pocket, she popped it open with a neat snap and proceeded to dial the number on the paper. Elizabeth let out a roar of outrage and lunged at Sylvia. Sylvia
squealed shrilly running into the hallway and into the bathroom with Elizabeth a few steps behind. Sylvia slammed the door shut violently, while Elizabeth rattled the door knob only to hear the well-greased push, click of the lock.
“Sylvia, c’mon,” said Elizabeth. “This isn’t funny.”
“I’m doing you a favor.” said Sylvia.
Elizabeth banged her head against the door as she listened to the phone ring. She heard George’s deep voice begin to speak on the other line.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Sylvia, Elizabeth’s roomie.”
“Oh.” said George. “Hi Sylvia.”
“Elizabeth has something she wants to tell you.”
Silence issued from the other end, as Elizabeth stood with her ear pressed to the cold metal door.
“Well, put her on . . . I guess.”
Sylvia opened the door allowing one manicured hand to appear, holding the offending device towards Elizabeth. Elizabeth snatched the phone, her pulse thumping.
“Hi George,” said Elizabeth. “Sorry, about my roommate, she stole your number.”
“No problem,” said George, his hearty laughter issued from the earpiece. “She must be jealous.”
“Hah hah.” “Probably so.” “Listen George, I can’t go out with you this weekend.”
“OK, why not?”
“I looked at your Facebook profile and saw some things that make me uncomfortable.”
Elizabeth stood, waiting, her hip propped against the wall, as the silence from the phone made her believe the call was dropped.
“It’s just lunch.” “You’re going to have to give me a better reason than that.”
“I’ll give you one in class on Monday.”
“That’s not good enough,” said George irritably.
“Monday,” Elizabeth repeated.
“Well, thanks for being honest with me then. Goodbye.” said George.
Elizabeth closed the phone one tear trailing down her cheek. Sylvia, crept out of her bathroom haven and consoling rubbed Elizabeth’s back.
“It was for the best.” said Sylvia
Elizabeth nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
Elizabeth silently set amidst her own turmoil. Her only consolation was envisioning a red hand print outlined on Sylvia’s fair cheek.
Elizabeth rapidly swung her leg up and down as she waited for class to begin. Normally, George was always early, choosing to strike up a lively conversation with her before class. Elizabeth knew his ego must be hurting from her inexplicable dismissal over the phone. She only hoped that he would listen to her somewhat lame explanation. I am a pawn of my roommate’s whims thought Elizabeth. Her ears perked up as she heard the back door of the classroom slam shut. Turning, she saw George choose a seat four from the left of his usual position at her side.
Time seemed to slow as Elizabeth endured George’s stoic face. She watched as he angled his head toward the opposite end of the classroom. She listened as her professor droned on and on, her stomach churning, about the benefits of different data structures in computing. Her mind wandered as she pondered what to say to George.
Elizabeth awakened to the scrape of chairs against the linoleum to see George already making his exit. She rapidly thrust her notes into her knapsack rushing after his swiftly retreating form.
“George, wait!” called Elizabeth.
She watched as several of her classmates turned to face her running form, except a single black bookbag that continued steadfastly.
“Wait . . . please.” said Elizabeth.
The bookbag halted. Elizabeth sprinted until she fell into stride with George.
“Will you let me explain?”
George sighed. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private.”
He led Elizabeth behind the computer science building to a secluded bench they normally sat and chatted on before class.
“I’m sorry for my insensitivity the other day on the phone.” said Elizabeth. “My roommate doesn’t want me to date you, so I had to pretend I wasn’t going to.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Her parents are friends of the family, and everything I do at school goes straight back to them.”
A slight smile tugged at the corners of George’s lips. “So you’re saying you’re being spied on?”
“Hah, no. Sylvia means well, but she thinks you’re not the ideal man for me.”
“And who would the ideal guy be?”
“Someone dependable, who will take the lead in the relationship, respectable, trustworthy . . .”
“Sounds like she made a lot of assumptions.”
“Yeah, she really is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met though.”
“Still, it was a little immature on your part to go along with her like that.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” said Elizabeth. “Let me make it up to you?”
“Only if cheesecake is involved . . . ”
“Come by the bakery where I work, and I’ll treat you” said Elizabeth with a smile.
“Awesome.” said George leaning over to give Elizabeth a light squeeze. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
Elizabeth sat outside Comfort Foods: A Southern Bakery in her gray Toyota Matrix. She finished tucking one last flyaway into her sloppily pinned bun. Walking into the back entrance of the Bakery, she grabbed her apron off the rack next to the door.
Elizabeth went up front where Natalie the owner of the shop was expertly punching buttons on the cash register in quick succession. She marveled as she watch the woman she admired work. The fact that Natalie had willing taken a dissatisfied computer engineer under her wing still amazed her. Three years later, Elizabeth felt more than capable of opening her own bakery someday, but for right now she enjoyed the comradeship of working with Natalie.
“Oh Lizzie, you’re here.” said Natalie. “Good. Sweetie, could you get me three raspberry scones and a strawberry cream cheese danish to go?”
Elizabeth smiled as she fell into the familiar cadence of packaging sweets for their customers. She loved interacting with the people who came into the store, but even more, she loved the feel of the dough under her fingers as she kneaded pastry dough in the wee hours the morning. Sylvia would never believe it, if she knew her roommate moonlighted as a baker. In fact, Elizabeth thought, Sylvia thought she was in the library, at the moment, studying for a electrical circuits exam.
“Elizabeth,” said Natalie, “you have a visitor.”
Elizabeth startled from her thoughts saw Natalie beaming at George’s freckled face.
“Who is this handsome young man?”
“Natalie, George,” said Elizabeth point between the two. “George, Natalie.”
“Nice to meet you,” said George.
“You likewise young man,” said Natalie. “Elizabeth didn’t tell me she had handsome fella following her around.”
Elizabeth laughed. “So what’ll it be sir?”
“Mmm,” said George, “one of everything.”
“And a good appetite too,” said Natalie approvingly.
Elizabeth smiled, “Put it on my tab.”
Four bear claws and a raspberry scone later Elizabeth sat enjoying a cup of coffee with George. He smiled charmingly at Elizabeth and reach up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear.
“So why doesn’t Sylvia know you work here?” asked George.
“She would tell my parents.”
“And that would be bad why?”
“They want me to be computer engineer, because they make good money.”
“Bakers can make good money as well. Besides, I think they would want you to do something that makes you happy.”
“Yeah, but bakers don’t make enough money to live off of, supposedly. They want me to be able to support myself.”
“I still think it’s stupid that you keep so much from Sylvia. I think you should tell her about us and the bakery.”
“George, drop it.”
“Fine.”
Sylvia sat in front of Elizabeth’s widescreen laptop. She had watched Elizabeth come in beaming from her study sessions the past three weeks. Studying indeed, thought Sylvia. She decided it was time to spy on her rash friend, before something happened that Elizabeth would regret. New to surveilance, Sylvia found a wealth of information on Google.com. Although, she was disturbed at how easy it had been to download a keylogger program from the internet, free no less. She opened the internet browser and typed Taylor University’s webmail address. Sylvia logged into Elizabeth’s e-mail account using the password she had obtained using her SpyGator freeware.
Sylvia looked at Elizabeth’s well organized inbox. Folders marked for each of her classes lined the right hand side of the screen. Sylvia checked each. They looked innocuous enough. She double clicked on the final folder marked, “Job Info”. Each e-mail was marked “From: Natalie”. Opening each letter in turn, Sylvia followed the course of Elizabeth’s culinary career from her meeting Natalie at a baking convention to becoming her junior partner at the bakery.
Sylvia took a deep breath trying to reign in her anger at Elizabeth’s deception. She had been living with her for three years, and she hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her about her job at Comfort Foods. Sylvia grabbed her purse and keys off the desk and hurried out the door.
I really didn't want to write this story, but I started it this way because I had to have something to turn in for an assignment for Creative Writing. I didn't know it would have to be the permanent subject of my story. Then, my professor wouldn't let me start over, so this is what i have to work with.
Elizabeth stared at the screen, her fingers rhythmically tapping each key in quick succession. She sat hunched in her overly large office chair while she watched the greeting script appear for Facebook.com.
“Go on. Look him up,” Sylvia urged, eagerly shifting from foot to foot.
“I don’t know. He just asked me to lunch. That shouldn’t require a background check,” said Elizabeth.
“What’s it going to hurt?”
“Nothing, I suppose.”
Elizabeth nodded letting a light-hearted gurgle escape her lips. The name George Wren rapidly filled the white space of the search box.
She clicked on the first linked that display George’s name along with Taylor University.
“Jackpot,” she said as his profile page appeared.
Elizabeth knew that Sylvia was right. Checking a guy’s Facebook profile was the easiest way to identify whether her date was a potential boyfriend material or stalker. She scrolled the page with Sylvia peering over her shoulder. Twin intakes of breath signaled that they had both reached the “Looking For:” subtitle.
“Random play. Whatever I can get,” Sylvia said.
“Sounds like he plans to ravish me on our first date,” said Elizabeth.
“Be serious.”
“I am. I think he’s a criminal.”
“I don’t he should joke about stuff like that.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Sylvia took life way too seriously. She spent an entire month their freshmen year planning out the rest of her life. Although, someone needed to inform Sylvia’s fiancee that he was a year behind schedule.
Elizabeth looked at the rest of George’s profile, realizing that he used Facebook as a medium for humor. A neon white computer nerd with a killer smile, George would never have a part-time job as a Chippendale’s dancer. He also professed interests in hamburgergaling and watching Girls Gone Wild advertisements. She flicked her eyes up catching the corners of Sylvia’s mouth start their downward descent.
“What,” Elizabeth asked.
“I don’t think it’s meant to be,” said Sylvia.
“I think I can be the judge of that.”
Sylvia shifted, her right hip jutting out. “It’s just; he’s so different from us.”
Elizabeth conceded the point. Sylvia was right. George was very different from the person she portrayed to her roommate.
Their parents, who were friends of nearly thirty years, had insisted that Sylvia and Elizabeth room together at Taylor, because they knew the girls would be instant friends. Their friendship had blossomed quickly too, once Elizabeth realized she had a live-in spy. There was no escaping Sylvia either, because as soon as she opted to move out, her parents would instantly become suspicious of her motives.
However, in her classes, she was able relax, be herself, and try to forget the mask her roommate required her to put on every time she entered their room.
Elizabeth slung her knapsack down next to her chair. Pulling out her laptop, she noticed George’s devilish grin aimed at her. He had his sketchbook out where he carefully crafted an angel on one thick page. He had given the angel a sweet, heart-shaped face and a fiercely determined expression. It was a stunningly beautiful portrayal of opposites.
“George, that’s amazing! How do you think that stuff up,” Elizabeth asked. George moved his shoulders up and down in a muscular ripple.
“I thought I told you to call me Greg.”
“You did. I just like the sound of George. After British History, I have a fetish for king’s names.”
“Well, in that case, go ahead.”
“You’re so arrogant.”
George cocked an eyebrow leaning in toward her with his elbow slumped against the desk. “I know.”
“Yeah, I think you may be right,” Elizabeth conceded.
“I am. You know I’m excellent at giving advice.”
Elizabeth knew she would keep her dates a secret for as long as possible, before her parents found out, which they always did. Sylvia could read every nuisance of Elizabeth’s attitude. A slight change in eating habits, a scone instead of steamed broccoli, and the Gestapo would be on her. Then, the only opinion that mattered would be that of Sylvia.
She was twenty-one, and they still trusted her best friend’s judgment over her own. Her parents thought she was too rash. They harbored the illusion she going to school to become a computer engineer and earn a six figure salary. Instead, she slyly worked against the friction Sylvia posed to work her own agenda, free from her parents' overprotective whims.
“Give him a call.” said Sylvia.
“I’ll call him later,” said Elizabeth.
Elizabeth pulled a rumpled corner of notebook paper from her pocket. She studied the numbers silkily written by a black ballpoint pen. She knew that Sylvia would want to listen to her phone call, so she could believe her roommate had closure. Faking the phone call might work Elizabeth thought, but at the expense of fake . . .
Sylvia leaned over and plucked the scrap of paper from Elizabeth’s fingers.
“Give that back.” said Elizabeth.
Sylvia giggle and skipped out of Elizabeth’s long armed reach. Pulling her red razor phone from her pocket, she popped it open with a neat snap and proceeded to dial the number on the paper. Elizabeth let out a roar of outrage and lunged at Sylvia. Sylvia
squealed shrilly running into the hallway and into the bathroom with Elizabeth a few steps behind. Sylvia slammed the door shut violently, while Elizabeth rattled the door knob only to hear the well-greased push, click of the lock.
“Sylvia, c’mon,” said Elizabeth. “This isn’t funny.”
“I’m doing you a favor.” said Sylvia.
Elizabeth banged her head against the door as she listened to the phone ring. She heard George’s deep voice begin to speak on the other line.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Sylvia, Elizabeth’s roomie.”
“Oh.” said George. “Hi Sylvia.”
“Elizabeth has something she wants to tell you.”
Silence issued from the other end, as Elizabeth stood with her ear pressed to the cold metal door.
“Well, put her on . . . I guess.”
Sylvia opened the door allowing one manicured hand to appear, holding the offending device towards Elizabeth. Elizabeth snatched the phone, her pulse thumping.
“Hi George,” said Elizabeth. “Sorry, about my roommate, she stole your number.”
“No problem,” said George, his hearty laughter issued from the earpiece. “She must be jealous.”
“Hah hah.” “Probably so.” “Listen George, I can’t go out with you this weekend.”
“OK, why not?”
“I looked at your Facebook profile and saw some things that make me uncomfortable.”
Elizabeth stood, waiting, her hip propped against the wall, as the silence from the phone made her believe the call was dropped.
“It’s just lunch.” “You’re going to have to give me a better reason than that.”
“I’ll give you one in class on Monday.”
“That’s not good enough,” said George irritably.
“Monday,” Elizabeth repeated.
“Well, thanks for being honest with me then. Goodbye.” said George.
Elizabeth closed the phone one tear trailing down her cheek. Sylvia, crept out of her bathroom haven and consoling rubbed Elizabeth’s back.
“It was for the best.” said Sylvia
Elizabeth nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
Elizabeth silently set amidst her own turmoil. Her only consolation was envisioning a red hand print outlined on Sylvia’s fair cheek.
Elizabeth rapidly swung her leg up and down as she waited for class to begin. Normally, George was always early, choosing to strike up a lively conversation with her before class. Elizabeth knew his ego must be hurting from her inexplicable dismissal over the phone. She only hoped that he would listen to her somewhat lame explanation. I am a pawn of my roommate’s whims thought Elizabeth. Her ears perked up as she heard the back door of the classroom slam shut. Turning, she saw George choose a seat four from the left of his usual position at her side.
Time seemed to slow as Elizabeth endured George’s stoic face. She watched as he angled his head toward the opposite end of the classroom. She listened as her professor droned on and on, her stomach churning, about the benefits of different data structures in computing. Her mind wandered as she pondered what to say to George.
Elizabeth awakened to the scrape of chairs against the linoleum to see George already making his exit. She rapidly thrust her notes into her knapsack rushing after his swiftly retreating form.
“George, wait!” called Elizabeth.
She watched as several of her classmates turned to face her running form, except a single black bookbag that continued steadfastly.
“Wait . . . please.” said Elizabeth.
The bookbag halted. Elizabeth sprinted until she fell into stride with George.
“Will you let me explain?”
George sighed. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private.”
He led Elizabeth behind the computer science building to a secluded bench they normally sat and chatted on before class.
“I’m sorry for my insensitivity the other day on the phone.” said Elizabeth. “My roommate doesn’t want me to date you, so I had to pretend I wasn’t going to.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Her parents are friends of the family, and everything I do at school goes straight back to them.”
A slight smile tugged at the corners of George’s lips. “So you’re saying you’re being spied on?”
“Hah, no. Sylvia means well, but she thinks you’re not the ideal man for me.”
“And who would the ideal guy be?”
“Someone dependable, who will take the lead in the relationship, respectable, trustworthy . . .”
“Sounds like she made a lot of assumptions.”
“Yeah, she really is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met though.”
“Still, it was a little immature on your part to go along with her like that.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” said Elizabeth. “Let me make it up to you?”
“Only if cheesecake is involved . . . ”
“Come by the bakery where I work, and I’ll treat you” said Elizabeth with a smile.
“Awesome.” said George leaning over to give Elizabeth a light squeeze. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
Elizabeth sat outside Comfort Foods: A Southern Bakery in her gray Toyota Matrix. She finished tucking one last flyaway into her sloppily pinned bun. Walking into the back entrance of the Bakery, she grabbed her apron off the rack next to the door.
Elizabeth went up front where Natalie the owner of the shop was expertly punching buttons on the cash register in quick succession. She marveled as she watch the woman she admired work. The fact that Natalie had willing taken a dissatisfied computer engineer under her wing still amazed her. Three years later, Elizabeth felt more than capable of opening her own bakery someday, but for right now she enjoyed the comradeship of working with Natalie.
“Oh Lizzie, you’re here.” said Natalie. “Good. Sweetie, could you get me three raspberry scones and a strawberry cream cheese danish to go?”
Elizabeth smiled as she fell into the familiar cadence of packaging sweets for their customers. She loved interacting with the people who came into the store, but even more, she loved the feel of the dough under her fingers as she kneaded pastry dough in the wee hours the morning. Sylvia would never believe it, if she knew her roommate moonlighted as a baker. In fact, Elizabeth thought, Sylvia thought she was in the library, at the moment, studying for a electrical circuits exam.
“Elizabeth,” said Natalie, “you have a visitor.”
Elizabeth startled from her thoughts saw Natalie beaming at George’s freckled face.
“Who is this handsome young man?”
“Natalie, George,” said Elizabeth point between the two. “George, Natalie.”
“Nice to meet you,” said George.
“You likewise young man,” said Natalie. “Elizabeth didn’t tell me she had handsome fella following her around.”
Elizabeth laughed. “So what’ll it be sir?”
“Mmm,” said George, “one of everything.”
“And a good appetite too,” said Natalie approvingly.
Elizabeth smiled, “Put it on my tab.”
Four bear claws and a raspberry scone later Elizabeth sat enjoying a cup of coffee with George. He smiled charmingly at Elizabeth and reach up to tuck a stray hair behind her ear.
“So why doesn’t Sylvia know you work here?” asked George.
“She would tell my parents.”
“And that would be bad why?”
“They want me to be computer engineer, because they make good money.”
“Bakers can make good money as well. Besides, I think they would want you to do something that makes you happy.”
“Yeah, but bakers don’t make enough money to live off of, supposedly. They want me to be able to support myself.”
“I still think it’s stupid that you keep so much from Sylvia. I think you should tell her about us and the bakery.”
“George, drop it.”
“Fine.”
Sylvia sat in front of Elizabeth’s widescreen laptop. She had watched Elizabeth come in beaming from her study sessions the past three weeks. Studying indeed, thought Sylvia. She decided it was time to spy on her rash friend, before something happened that Elizabeth would regret. New to surveilance, Sylvia found a wealth of information on Google.com. Although, she was disturbed at how easy it had been to download a keylogger program from the internet, free no less. She opened the internet browser and typed Taylor University’s webmail address. Sylvia logged into Elizabeth’s e-mail account using the password she had obtained using her SpyGator freeware.
Sylvia looked at Elizabeth’s well organized inbox. Folders marked for each of her classes lined the right hand side of the screen. Sylvia checked each. They looked innocuous enough. She double clicked on the final folder marked, “Job Info”. Each e-mail was marked “From: Natalie”. Opening each letter in turn, Sylvia followed the course of Elizabeth’s culinary career from her meeting Natalie at a baking convention to becoming her junior partner at the bakery.
Sylvia took a deep breath trying to reign in her anger at Elizabeth’s deception. She had been living with her for three years, and she hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her about her job at Comfort Foods. Sylvia grabbed her purse and keys off the desk and hurried out the door.