Page 25 of The Stranger
“You’re welcome, Miss St. James,” he replies with a nod as he sets down the abundance of bags he’s carrying. “I’ll see you in the morning … have a pleasant evening.”
“You too … and thank you.”
I have to do two loads to get everything inside, opting to take them straight to my room. I can imagine how Abigail will react if she sees my new designer wardrobe. Besides, my mother will probably insist I hide them from her anyway.
God forbid we upset her delicate feelings.
My one-hour lunch date with Eloise turned into a two-hour shopping spree … at her son’s request apparently.
Although deep down I appreciated him for doing it, I found myself equally mortified and annoyed when his mother told me the real reason behind her visit. I explicitly informed him that his offer of an advance this morning felt like charity, so I don’t know how he concluded that buying me an entirely new wardrobe was any better.
I’d planned on telling him exactly that when I returned to the office mid-afternoon, only to find that he’d left for the rest of the day to attend various meetings off-site.
It’s going to take me months to pay him for all these beautiful clothes. It also means I’m going to be stuck in this nightmare situation even longer. I’ll never be able to afford to move out at this rate.
It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep can do for one’s mood. After I spent hours unpacking all my new things last night, I showered, washed my hair, and set it in soft rollers, which I slept in. I was up early this morning, applying my makeup and styling my hair into long, loose curls. I wanted the rest of me to match my new wardrobe.
By the time I slipped into the chosen outfit for the day, I stood in front of my mirror in disbelief. It was the first time in a long time that I’ve felt beautiful. I know I’m not what you’d call ugly, but when you’re constantly compared to your elder sister, who is prettier, smarter, and more charismatic … it’s easy to develop an inferiority complex. Losing my fiancé to her only cemented that fact.
After much thought, I’ve chosen to wear a white pantsuit today. The slacks are high-waisted and hug my body until my upper thigh, before dropping into a straight pant leg. I’ve paired them with a sky-blue silk blouse that I’ve tucked in. The short jacket sits just above my hips, which I’ve left undone.
The expensive material feels so soft and luxurious against my skin. I swear if Abigail even thinks of manhandling me in this outfit, I’ll uppercut her.
I reach down for the phone that’s sitting on my bed and snap a quick pic of myself through the full-length mirror. When I’m done, I open my Messenger app and attach the image.
Me: How do I look?
Eloise: Oh, darling, you look beautiful. Simply exquisite. I love that you paired your outfit with the camel-coloured pumps. Great choice.
Me: Thank you. And thank you again for all your expertise yesterday. I appreciate it … and you.
Eloise: It was my pleasure. You are like the daughter I always wanted, and I thoroughly enjoyed our little shopping expedition. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my son, but the moment he hit puberty, I could no longer choose his outfits. You know how fiercely independent my Spencer is. He gets that trait from his father.
I know little about her son, other than he’s stubborn and annoyingly persistent when he wantssomething.
Me: I enjoyed myself too.
Maybe not at first. In the beginning, I struggled to keep my anger at bay. But Spencer definitely gets his persistent side from his mother. She can be just as relentless as he can. Once I accepted my fate, it was kind of fun. I’ve never shopped in places so grand, with an endless amount of money at my disposal. Eloise didn’t even look at the price tags. Anything that caught her eye was plucked off the rack, handed to the sales assistant, and delivered to my dressing room. Her taste is impeccable.
Eloise: We’ll have to do it again soon. Mwah.
Instead of replying, I react to her message with a heart. She’ll be getting no encouragement from me. I’m going to need a few solid years of savings before I can afford to do anything like that again.
There’s a tiny pep in my step as I reach for the cute Michael Kors purse that matches my shoes and sling it over my shoulder. I don’t know what the actual psychology behind it is, but this outfit has boosted my disposition and my self-esteem. I feel reborn and ready to conquer the world.
That is, until I enter the kitchen.
“Oh, is that a new outfit?” my mother asks, placing a mug of coffee down in front of Abigail. “You look lovely, sweetie.”
“It is,” I answer as my eyes dart to my sister. If looks could kill, I’m pretty sure I’d keel over and die on the spot.
“Is that an MK bag?” Abigail spits.
Ignoring her, I move my attention back to my mother. “I needed some new clothes for work.”
“You should’ve said something. I could’ve come withyou. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a girls’ day out together.”
Yes, the last time was when we went wedding dress shopping. I get a pang in my heart when I think back to that day. Abigail was with us since I’d stupidly asked her to be my bridesmaid, and I was happy … genuinely happy. I had no clue what lay ahead. It’s funny how things can change. I never would’ve guessed I’d be here now. Single, lonely, lost, and about to embark on a completely different life.
