Free Personal Shopper by Sullivan Clarke

Chapter
One
     
     
    "Mommy, why can't you come to my Christmas
play?"
    Laura McCaffrey
looked down at the adorable face of her five-year-old son and felt her heart
lurch.
    "Because, Evan,
Mommy has to work. It's the busiest time of the year and we have bills to pay."
She glanced over at the growing stack on the kitchen counter, the source of the
gnawing, ever-present worry in her stomach. "You remember what Mommy told you?
That this is the busiest time of year for her?"
    "Well, I think
it's stupid," the little boy grumbled. "Why can't people just do their own shopping. "
    Laura stuffed
her son's Thermos into his lunch box and zipped it shut. "Because some people
are very busy and don't have time." Now finish your toast. "The bus will be
here in a few minutes."
    Outside it was
bitter cold. Laura could have watched Evan and his friends board the bus from
her apartment window, but she was too protective for that. As always, she stood
on the walk, her breath coming in steamy spurts, until her bundled-up son and
his friends had managed to board the bus that would take them to Little Friends
Day School.
    The tuition bill
from the school was among those sitting on her counter. Her ex-husband had
promised to pay it by last Tuesday. When the money hadn't come she broke down
and called him. His new girlfriend answered the phone and when she heard
Laura's voice slammed the receiver down on the counter and called for Clay.
"It's her," she said.
    Clay had told
her not to worry, he'd send the tuition money by
Saturday. Today was Monday and still there was no money. If she didn't have it
by Friday, Evan would have to leave Little Friends and the only friends he had
ever known.
    Laura turned and
walked back into her apartment building, stopping by Mr. Harker's apartment first to give him the rent before going back to the warmth of her
flat.
    Pouring herself
another cup of tea, she sat down to make her list. She'd had several packages
to wrap and deliver before meeting her newest client --what was his name again.
She picked up her day planner and flipped to the Post-It note she'd pressed
into the December section.
    "Maximus
Greenway." The named sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. The man's
receptionist had called her and scheduled an appointment for 11:30 a.m. It was
a downtown address; that meant a big, lucrative account.
    But she knew if
she didn't hurry, she wouldn't make it. After a quick shower, she towel-dried
and brushed her long brunette hair and let it air dry as she wrapped presents -
a pair of size 6 Ugg boots, a cashmere wrap and nine
sets of Cross pens, for Mrs. Tighlman , a
bleach-blonde new money socialite who lived in The Gables, a gated community
just outside of town. Putting the gifts into a labeled bag and quickly jotted
out an invoice, taking careful note to add the gift wrap fee before stapling a
copy of the Ms. Tighlman's charge account receipts
onto the corner.
    Glancing at the
clock, she rushed out to load the bags into the back of her Jeep Cherokee and
climbed into the driver's seat. As usual, the aging vehicle was reluctant to start
and Laura prayed for patience she needed to gently coaxing the engine to turn
over without flooding it.
    Finally, it
rumbled to life and she pulled out into traffic, ignoring the ill-tempered horn
blasts of other drivers. She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached her
exit and the crush of city traffic fell away as she reached suburbia.
    The Gables sat
on the fringes of a cluster of working class homes. Laura pulled up to the
little guard house that sat in front of the huge wrought iron entry way. A fat,
red-faced man lumbered out as she rolled down her window.
    "I'm here to see
Clarice Tighlman ."
    "Just
a minute." The guard disappeared back into his little office, picked up the phone, nodded
and then waved her through. The gates opened remotely and Laura drove through.
The Tighlman house was on Blue Heron Way, ironically
named since the road stood on filled in wetlands.