Masters of the Shadowlands 7 - This is who I am by Sinclair Cherise Read Free Book Online

around the phone. Vacation? Depression so black that she’d stared at the ceiling, unable to find a reason to get out of bed. Erratic crying fits, throwing up, panic attacks. She was hardly having fun. Charles knew she’d gone to her sister’s to recover from the kidnapping. Well, he was only twenty, and she’d tried very hard to hide her shattered mental state from the children. He wouldn’t know she’d needed all that time to pull the pieces of herself back together. “Not much choice, I’m afraid. My funds are pretty exhausted.”
    “Does that mean you don’t have any money to spare?” A long sigh came over the phone. “Fuck.”
    She closed her eyes. Exhaustion was setting in, and she sagged against the dresser. “Watch the language, my boy.”
    “Sorry. But…I’m broke.”
    “I transferred money into your account on the first. That was supposed to last you all month.”
    Silence. “Well, it didn’t. Things cost more now. I need some money, Mom.”
    She frowned. “For what?”
    “To eat, dammit.”
    “Your job at the cafeteria pays for your meals.”
    “I quit, all right? It was taking too much time and—” He broke off.
    And his friends didn’t have to work. She frowned. Frederick’s life insurance paid for the children’s tuition and books, and she took care of their rent and gave them a small allowance. He wasn’t being abused, despite his whining. “I’m sorry, Charles. You’d better get the job back. I don’t have the money to spare.”
    “I… Fine.” The silence grew. Then he muttered, “Right.”
    She blinked back tears, unable to speak, and after a second heard the brat turn back into the sweetheart she’d raised.
    “I’m sorry, Mom. And I really am glad you’re back. See you next weekend.”
    “Bye,” she whispered to the dial tone. She listened to the hum for a while, too tired to set the receiver down. Too afraid of starting to cry. Normally she’d have taken his behavior in stride. It was just…now…that everything seemed to abrade her feelings.
    Saying no was the right thing to do. Even if she’d been rich, she’d make him work for part of his college expenses. People didn’t value anything unless they themselves put some effort into getting it. Which meant if she handed him all the money, he’d actually be more liable to flunk out.
    Logic didn’t help. She’d disappointed her baby. Welcome home, Linda.
    * * * *
    At the end of that week, Linda stood behind the counter in her beachfront store, ringing up the sale of a canvas, hand-stitched beach tote. Her feet were screaming at being forced back into her favorite high-heeled sandals, her legs ached from standing so much, and her shoulders were knotted from evenings spent on the accounting backlog. Yet it was wonderful to be home. Her life was returning to normal.
    “You have a lovely store.” The customer signed the charge slip.
    “Thank you.” Linda beamed as she handed over the receipt. “Have a wonderful day on the beach.”
    After growing up in a tiny Florida town, she’d thought she’d simply be a teacher. Or maybe a preacher’s wife like her mother had been. Who knew that she’d love running her own business, love the interactions with customers? And after the slavers had tried to convince her she was nothing more than a slut, she needed the reassurance that she was good at what she did.
    The store door was latched open, letting customers on the boardwalk flow in and out. Inside, a young couple, hand in hand, were checking out the etched coffee cups. A trio of older women studied the wall of Florida shore paintings. On the right, her clerk was restocking the glass case holding the handcrafted jewelry.
    Linda inhaled, enjoying how the sand candles’ scents mingled with the salty air off the Gulf. Her tiny store specialized in handcrafted items for tourists. It held no shot glasses or T-shirts made overseas by the thousands. Instead, everything was created by Florida artisans. She even