Page 26 of Fearless Sinner

I will never do that to myself again. And definitely not when it comes to my mother.

I’ve been waiting for the bank manager for a little over an hour.

Although she sent her secretary to tell me she was delayed and would be with me as soon as possible, my paranoia is telling me this is not a good sign.

I keep thinking something is wrong and I’m not going to get through.I know negative thoughts like that will get me nowhere, but I can’t help it.I don’t think I’ve ever had to wait this long in any bank.

Then again, I’ve never applied for a loan, and especially not a loan of this magnitude.

I run my fingers over the fabric of my dress to straighten out the invisible wrinkles.It’s just something to do with my hands.I had my phone out earlier but got bored of looking at YouTube videos about how to set up a dance studio.

I’ve enquired about a space downtown that would be perfect for a studio. I’ve been invited to look at it on Monday. Such a thing is not in the cards for me yet, but I needed to do it to keep myself sane.

In my journey to recovery I’ve come to realize that you always need to have something to aim for. No matter how unrealistic it may seem. April told me once that if you can visualize it you can do it. But back then I just wanted to be myself again. Someone who was confident enough to dance on a stage in front of a thousand people and act like she owned the world.

While I’m in this conundrum of trying to save my family, I’m saving myself, too, by dreaming.

I also have a job interview this Friday evening for a job I don’t think I’ll get. It’s a dance teacher position at Garner Preparatory, the kind of private school where celebrities send their children.

I aimed high. I figured that maybe a good monthly salary could be set aside to help Mom.

They have a group interview first, which is more like a fancy gathering, and by the end of the night you know whether you made it to the next stage, which is the actual interview.

I straighten when my name is called. The kind-faced secretary who greeted me earlier approaches.

“Mrs. Grimfrost is ready for you now,” she says, and I smile to mask my nerves.

“Thank you.”

“Follow me.”

My heels click on the marble floor as I follow her down the corridor. She leads me up the first flight of stairs and past an open-plan office with several people at their desks and headsets attached to their heads.

At the end of that corridor is a larger wooden door with the word Manager embossed on a gold plaque.

The secretary opens the door to reveal a sophisticated elderly lady with ice-blue eyes and silver hair I'm guessing is Mrs. Grimfrost.She’s well dressed in a business suit and the decadent scent of Chanel No.5 envelopes me as I walk into the office. She stands to greet me with a smile while her secretary takes her leave.

“Good morning. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting,” Mrs. Grimfrost apologizes.

“That’s okay. I understand you were busy.”

“Thank you. Please sit.”

I sit and pray hard that this will work. I seemed to tick all the boxes, so here’s hoping.

Mrs. Grimfrost steeples her fingers and rests her elbows on the shiny surface of her mahogany desk.

“May I call you Chloe?”

“Of course.”

“Great. Well, Chloe, I’ve looked over your application and the business you’re hoping to invest in.I understand the restaurant still belongs to your mother.Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.” I sound nervous.And I think she can tell.

“That’s all fine. Before I hear your pitch, I want to be real with you. Is that okay?”

Oh God, here we go. “Yes, of course.”

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