Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 113717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
I wondered if I’d see him today, would he say hello, or would he ignore me? Had aunt Marion been right, had he only been showing me kindness because she’d asked him to? And what exactly was their relationship?
All questions that I had no answers to and would probably be crushed if I did.
Better to leave that alone Gabby, you didn’t come here to get your stupid heart broken and there was sure to be heartbreak if you kept thinking about him. Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do with him if he did show an interest in you.
I wish I had Melanie here with me, or that I could just call her up and have one of our gab sessions.
She was so much worldlier about these things than I was, having gone steady with her boyfriend for four years.
I had no experience with relationships with boys my own age furthermore a man of Callan’s caliber. I just wish I could get him off of my mind as I’m sure I was already off of his.
***
I went out to the kitchen and found aunt Marion there with a cup of coffee and the morning paper. She smiled at me and I felt my shoulders relax a little.
She seemed to be over whatever had been bothering her the night before. “Don’t you look like the perfect little assistant? Grab yourself some coffee or juice we’ve got to get going soon I don’t want to be late.”
I grabbed a cup of bitter coffee and gulped it down not wanting to set her off again.
I was tense all the way in the car, but thankfully it was only about a five-minute drive, which made me wonder why she’d even bother.
I looked out the window at the early morning traffic as the driver made his way through the streets of Manhattan.
Aunt Marion looked so posh, like one of those women you saw in magazines, and her blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, not a strand out of place.
If I tried to roll my hair the way she’d done hers it’d take me a hundred pins and then some to hold it together.
I kept stealing peeks at her out the side of my eye as I sat stiff as a board next to her. She was thumbing through a folder and I noticed even her nails were perfect.
I folded mine in my lap with their chips and ragged edges, feeling more inadequate by the second. “We’re here.” She put away her reading material as the car came to a stop.
“Now remember, try not to act like the country bumpkin that you are, these people are my colleagues and I don’t need them thinking that I’d associate with anyone that was less than average.” She actually sniffed after she said this to me.
As if I wasn’t feeling out of my depth enough as it is as I looked up at the building we were approaching.
It had to be the tallest building in the world. I had to literally crane my neck just to see up to the top and even then I could barely make it out. The tallest building back home was three stories high, and that was considered a big deal by the locals.
“Well come along don’t just stand there gawking like a fool.”
I was beginning to think that maybe she had a mental unbalance of some kind. My great aunt Nettie was like that. She could be fine one minute and the next the most obscene things would shoot out of her mouth.
Momma and daddy always said just to be kind to the pitiful old soul because she didn’t know any better.
With the new thought set firmly in my head I decided to not look at aunt Marion as some sort of ogre, but more like someone who was to be pitied for her condition.
It was sad really, because momma was the same age and she was fine. It must not be easy for aunt Marion to be going through this at her young age with her whole life ahead of her.
I didn’t have much time to dwell on my new discovery however, for as soon as we entered the high rise building things seemed to be constantly in motion.
Aunt Marion introduced me around the office and everyone seemed so nice, though I did catch a few of them giving me pitying looks. I wonder what that was about?
They couldn’t have realized that my clothes weren’t of the highest order, momma was a great seamstress; in fact she made good money sewing for other people in our small town and even some in the next town over.
And my top, though not new, was very well made and quite beautiful if I do say so myself. My shoes might be a bit scuffed but nothing too horrendous, so I put it down to my imagination.