Quinlan: Foster’s Pride – Lion Shapeshifter Romance (Foster's Pride Book 3), Kathi Barton [management books to read TXT] 📗

think to gain by taking her back to court? Nothing, that was what she was going to get. Not one damned thing. It would take money to come after her, and she’d made sure the little twit didn’t have any.

“Did you hear what I said to you?” She waved her hand at the butler that had been there since she and Mark had lived there. “All right then. Since I know you can’t stand to have things repeated to you, you have a lovely day, missus.”

When he stepped out of the room, she let out a huge sigh of relief. Missy didn’t like dealing with people. Actually, she didn’t care for anyone but herself, and sometimes she couldn’t even stand herself. Getting up to pour herself a drink, the grandfather clock chimed. Smiling, she drank the drink down, considering it her breakfast.

The phone rang somewhere in the house. Why there was a house phone in this day and age was something she never understood. But when it went unanswered, she wondered at that. Then there was an insistent ringing at the front door. Again, it didn’t get answered.

Vowing to go after the one that was supposed to do that for her, she opened the door and nearly fell off her heels when the door opened much easier than she thought it would. While she was trying to gather up her composure, the person on the other side of the door laughed. That was when Missy looked in her direction.

“Deliveries are to be made at the back door. Remember that the next time or I’ll have your job.” The woman said something, but Missy didn’t understand her. Asking her to repeat herself got her more laughter.

“I said, you’d better be looking for some sort of job, so when you’re kicked out of here and have to repay the money you took, you’ll have something to fall back on. Are you Melissa Strum Tyler?” Nodding, she realized that this person knew her maiden name when even she barely remembered it. “Here you go. You’ve been served.”

The packet—there was no other word for the thick envelope—hit her in the chest. The woman hadn’t moved to give it to her that she’d seen. Not only that, but as soon as Missy looked up from the thing she’d been given, the woman was gone, like she’d never been there. Had it not been for the thing being in her hands, she might well have believed it was all a drunken aberration.

“Not that I’m drunk. It is only nine in the morning.” She really didn’t have any idea of the time. The stupid clock only chimed every fifteen minutes—for all she knew, it could have been nine in the evening. “Why does it get dark sometimes in the evening, and other times it doesn’t? Stupid weatherman.”

Taking the envelope to the living room, she laid it on the table with all the other mail she’d been getting from the mailbox the last few days. Her attorney had advised her to keep everything in one place, so she was. He’d also sent her a certified something or another, which she ignored as well. He more than likely was reminding her again to keep her shit together.

When she started to get hungry, she called out for Carl. Carl didn’t like her. She didn’t care for him either, but since he was being paid to wait on her, she tolerated him. Yelling again, hating that her voice sounded slurred, she finally went to where the staff hung out and entered the kitchen.

Missy didn’t know what she had expected to find when she entered the only room in the house that she’d never made a habit of going into. But finding all the cabinet doors open, showing the empty cavernous shelves, she wondered if there was something she should be aware of. Was there a delivery of some kind coming in? But the cabinets were devoid of even the simplest of things. Not that she had a good idea of what she should have found in cabinets, but there should have been chips or something, she thought.

Looking around for something, an order that was coming or a note to tell her what was going on, she found an envelope with her name on it. Opening it up, she smiled when she saw that it was written out to Mrs. Tyler. Then she got to the body of the letter.

Mrs. Tyler. We have decided to take what you owe us in past wages from the household. There is no reason for you to call the police, as they were here when we took what we felt was owed to us. We did try, on several occasions, to talk to you about this, but you refused to listen.

She’d just see about that. Taking out her cell phone, she was dismayed to find that she had no service. Missy wasn’t sure what was going on, but she was going to get to the bottom of it right now.

I’m to inform you that you should read the paperwork you received via courier yesterday. In it, you’ll find the information you’ll need about your banking, as well as any outstanding payments that haven’t been paid. There was a happy face drawn there that she thought was highly inappropriate. You have a good day, Mrs. Tyler. This couldn’t be happening to a better person if you ask me.

“Well, that was nice.” She laid the letter down just as the lights went off. Getting up to turn the switch back on, she clicked it several times before she concluded she’d blown a fuse. “Like I have any idea how to go about changing a fuse.”

The rest of the house was just as dark. Going to the living room where all the paperwork she’d received over the last week was laying, she started sorting out things that were personal— it bothered her that there were so few of them—past due and final notice. Then she came to the thick