The Eyre Liszt
TRISHA MESSMER
Copyright 2019 Trisha Messmer
All rights reserved by author. This story may not be transmitted, stored, or performed without written consent from the author. This includes, but not limited to, physical publications, electronic formats, audio books, and dramatic readings.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To my daughter who kept me sane in a household of males.
and to music lovers everywhere
Acknowledgments
To my children, who (almost) never were embarrassed by my love of all things Disneywell, maybe the boys were.
To Johana Duran for her patience in creating the incredible artwork on the cover. Sorry I was such a pain.
To my Beta Readers:
My daughter, Amanda. Your feedback was not only helpful, it was crucial.
To Delia, thank you for your valuable feedback and for your encouragement.
To my readers, may you always hear the music that keeps you young. Thank you for your continued support.
Life free stuff? See the back of the book for information on how to get a free short story!
Chapter
A rabella Crawford wrung her hands and shifted on the uncomfortable plastic chair in the employment offices waiting room. She glanced at her watch for the tenth time as her foot tapped a nervous rhythm. Are they ever going to call my name?
If she didnt find a job soon, she would lose her modest onebedroom apartment and would most likely have to move to a womens shelter. If they would take her. She smoothed her long, outdated floral skirt and reached up to ensure no hair was out of place in her severe chignon.
Out of work for two months since leaving her job at Child Protective Services, she convinced herself resigning was the right decision, but in truth it was the only decision she could make after what happened. After depleting her meager savings account, and with no family to assist herat least none she wanted to impose onhope became a rare commodity.
The door to the inner offices opened, and a smartly dressed middleaged woman appeared. Arabella Crawford? she called.
Arabella rose, grateful to be out of the horrid plastic chair, and stepped toward the woman who held out her hand. Margaret Stevenson. Follow me, Ms. Crawford.
After walking down a long hallway, Ms. Stevenson led her into a small office.
Take a seat. Ms. Stevenson seated herself in the comfortable chair behind the desk, opened a file, and laid it in front of her. So, you worked for Child Protective Services?
Yes, maam.
What made you leave? Ms. Stevensons eyes focused on Arabellas face. They werent unkind eyes, she simply stated a necessary question.
To be honest, it wasnt a good fit for me. I had a problem detaching.
Ms. Stevenson gave a brief nod and returned her focus to the file. Its a tough profession. I notice you have a Bachelors degree in Psychology and a Masters in Social Work. Do you prefer something different, or do you want to remain in the field?
Well, I would like to use my degree if possible, but Im open to other possibilities. Arabella figured it best to keep things as wide open as possible. She would even flip hamburgers if it came to that. She just needed a job.
Do you have clerical skills? Any experience in administrative work or data entry?
I can type, and Im familiar with most of the Microsoft programs.
Ms. Stevenson smiled warmly. Well, that should prove helpful.
A loud knock sounded, the door cracked open, and a woman poked her head in the office. Im so sorry to interrupt. Margaret, may I speak with you in private?
Ms. Stevenson pursed her lips, eyeing the woman warily. Im in the middle of an intake, cant it wait?
Im afraid not. Its about him, you knowthe beast. The woman whispered the last words conspiratorially.
Im so sorry. Excuse me. I should only be a minute. Ms. Stevenson rose from her seat and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Who is the beast? An unruly employee, client? Arabellas curiosity piqued, but she resisted the urge to eavesdrop.
The sound of muffled voices drifted from the other side of the door, the volume escalating until Ms. Stevenson shouted, He what!
Their voices lowered again, and Arabella tried to focus on something else. Her stomach rumbled. Yes, focus on food, Bella, she said to herself deciding she would treat herself to dinner at her favorite Thai restaurant once she got her first paycheck from her new job.
The door opened and Ms. Stevenson re-entered. I apologize again. Just a little mix-up.
Something in Ms. Stevensons demeanor shifted, and when she sat back down, Arabella sensed Ms. Stevenson reevaluating her. Arabella could almost see the wheels turning in her head.
All right, where were we? Ms. Stevenson turned back to her computer screen. Lets see what I have that might fit you.
Arabella watched Ms. Stevensons eyes search her computer. Strange, it was if she wasnt really reading anything but rather was making a show of viewing the listings on her monitor.
Hmm, I wonder.
What is it? Arabellas spine straightened as she stretched forward hoping to sneak a peak at the screen. Please, please, let there be something.
Its rather different. A bit unorthodox in fact, but Im wondering with your degree and your experience in the Social Work field if this might be an ideal position for you.
Is it with children?
Ms. Stevenson chuckled then cleared her throat. No, although some might claim its the same as working with a child.
Arabella wanted to yank the monitor over so she could read it herself.
Ms. Stevenson took a breath. Its for a live-in companion. She lifted her hand. Now before you say no, I assure you its legitimate, and it pays extremely well.
Why would you presume I would say no? Arabella narrowed her eyes, surprised she put that question above the one foremost on her mind. How much?
Well, the word live-in companion sometimes causes peoples minds to go in unpleasant directions. The client is extremely wealthy but has become a bit of a recluse. With your background you would be the perfect candidate for the position.
My background? In psychology and social work, you mean? Is there something youre not telling me? Arabellas stomach rumbled in protest, the growing ache harder to ignore.
Well, as Im sure youre aware with your education, people who become reclusive can be... shall we say odd ? I understand some consider it a psychological disorder.
Is there mental illness involved? If so, would the environment be safe? As unease grew, Arabella scrutinized Ms. Stevensons face, only to be distracted by her protesting stomach.
No, no. Nothing like that, I assure you. And the environment is perfectly safe. Theres a full staff on site at all times. However, the staff does have their own duties, and my client prefers someone whose sole responsibility is that of a companion.
I understand. Arabella really didnt.
The position pays $60,000 a year, and you wouldnt have any living expenses. You would have your own room, a private bath, and they provide all meals.
Sixty thousand! Arabella only made $41,000 at CPS. She chewed her bottom lip, and her stomach rumbled louder at the word meals .
