The Penthouse Treasure - James Gerard (self help books to read .TXT) 📗

and well-orchestrated lies about her son was the focus of the visit.

 

The driver stopped. “Please wait,” she asked while handing over a wad of Euros.

 

The umbrella popped open as soon as she stepped into the downpour. Through the falling sheet of water Charisse looked at her grandmother’s house, noticed billows of smoke rising out of the chimney and just imagined how warm and comfortable she must have been. She thought the blissful home in such a quaint setting contrasted against the cold existence growing up in a house where warm and comfort was as fleeting as her mother’s mood changes and Aunt Anna’s secret ways. “So Connelly,” she whispered, “your mother get’s special treatment while you treated your wife like she was nothing.”

 

Climbing the steps to the porch Charisse could feel the anger being swept away by the draught of butterflies swarming around her stomach. With a steady hand she knocked several times before the door opened.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’m looking for Maureen O’Brien.”

 

“And you are?”

 

“My name is Char...I mean my name is Brandy Gillen. I am her son’s personal assistant.”

 

“You work for Connelly?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Please come in.”

 

Charisse placed the umbrella by the door and followed the woman to another room. Sitting in a rocking chair next to toasty flames flickering in the fireplace, a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose, staring at hands busy with knitting needles, was an elderly woman with gray hair and wrapped in a woolen scarf and sweater.

 

“Maureen,” the woman announced, “you have a visitor.”

 

“And who would that be my dear?”

 

“Her name is Brandy. She is—”

 

“Oh look Nessa, my beautiful granddaughter came to visit.”           

 

Charisse gasped and took a step back. “How…how did you—”

 

Nessa whispered, “Just play along Brandy. Mrs. O’Brien’s mind is suffering from dementia.”

 

Charisse managed a smile and walked up to the frail woman, “Yes grandmother, I came to visit you.”

 

“Well come here and give me a hug and a kiss.”

 

As Charisse bent down and stared at her face she could not help but notice how her eyes looked exactly like Connelly’s emerald green peepers, but it was her smile that simply captivated her. Although the smile was somewhat worn and tattered with the passing of time, Charisse could see, could feel the love that instantly struck her heart.         

 

“Quite a storm isn’t it grandmother,” Charisse said as she stepped towards a window to hide eyes welling up with moisture. She could not help but to think that a woman with such a tender smile would have knowingly ignored her sweet and precious granddaughter. Tears began to stream down the cheek as visions of a life that could have been with such warmth and love popped up in the mind.

 

Charisse sniffled as she clearly remembered how Aunt Anna had told her that Connelly’s parents were dead. Now seeing the fact as a lie it always hurt believing his mother never knew her son was such a despicable man who abandoned his wife and child. But for some reason for which Charisse had no explanation it no longer mattered; through the tears came a glint of joy in the heart. She spun around and cried, “I’ve missed you Grandmother,” then fell at her feet sobbing.

 

“Why are you crying?”          

 

“Because…because I’ve just missed you so much.”

 

Charisse felt hands rubbing her back, brushing back the strands of hair to wipe away the tears. “Oh how I love you my granddaughter,” was whispered in the ear.

 

“And there’s my boy,” Maureen said with glee. She smiled at a man walking into the room. “Look Connelly, my granddaughter is here.”

 

Charisse looked up in horror expecting to see her father walk into the room but instead saw a young man.           

 

“Yes mother, isn’t that just lovely.”

 

“I told you, dementia,” whispered Nessa.

 

“I’m sorry grandmother, I have to go,” Charisse said and fled the room.

 

Grabbing the umbrella she stepped out onto the porch and whispered, “This woman never did me any harm.” She thought about what her best friend might say if she completely abandoned any attempt to strike out at her. For the first time in her life she knowingly and intentionally went against her friend’s advice but she did not care

 

“Miss, are you okay?” asked Nessa.

 

“Yeah…yeah I’m just fine. I shouldn’t have come. My apologies to Mrs. O’Brien.”

 

Nessa reached out to Charisse, “Please just wait a moment. She does have some moments where her memory is fine.”

 

“No…no, I think it best if I just leave. By the way Nessa, if you could please not mention this to Connelly.   And again, please apologize to Mrs. O’Brien for me.”

 

“Sure.”

 

With the umbrella tucked under an arm she walked to the taxi pelted by the cold sting of heavy drops of rain.

Doubt Sneaks In

 Too tired to haggle with any ticket agent in securing a seat for a Christmas Eve flight, Charisse decided to rest at one of Dublin’s finest five star hotels but sleep was evasive.   Besides, a phone call to her friend was more important than sleep. She considered her friend’s warning in their nighttime phone call that leaving Dublin with nothing to show for it could lead to an utter failure of the vengeance plan. She commanded her to return to her grandmother’s house and make sure she understood the truth about her son, or at least tell the household staff, let them know that she was actually the daughter of Connelly O’Brien and reveal what the cruel man had done to her and her mother. Charisse, however, dismissed the command; for her heart could not muster up the coldness for such an assault on Christmas day. And while her friend was somewhat angry over the refusal to obey, at least she was somewhat happy with the amount of money that was spent on the last minute, one-way airline tickets and hotels, not to mention the money thrown at the taxi driver.

 

With the hotel’s concierge securing a seat on a Christmas morning flight back to Paris Charisse found the thoughts of the vengeance plan were muddled.   She considered that jet lag was catching up, that the mind was weighed down with the hurried long distance travelling and therefore the mood to strike had been subdued by fatigue. Just the idea of following her friend’s advice was overwhelming. The advice, a plan to meet Connelly’s other close contacts within the fashion industry and spread lies, simply went away as with the disappointing experience in Dublin.

 

After landing she rushed straight to the hotel from the airport and hurriedly packed. And even though the voice of her friend spoke loudly in the mind, Charisse maintained the strength to ignore such directions and rushed out of the room. She took the elevator down to the lobby and tossed the room key on top of the counter to the shock of the hotel personnel.

 

Even before a valet could hail a taxi Charisse was off the curb yelling and flailing an arm. A taxi came rushing up and squealed to a stop. “Airport,” she barked.

 

Amongst the hollering of impatient and irritable drivers and honking horns Charrise called the airline to confirm the last minute reservation.

 

Safely aboard, the first class accommodations offered all the comfort any weary traveler could ask for, she kept fidgeting about the seat seeking out a comfortable position but it could not be found. All she could think about was how the wicked man had caused so much torment for so many people. The words “his own mother” was said through clenching teeth over and over again. It was as if he got her as far away as possible to save him the embarrassment of having a feeble woman of a mother, but Charisse longed to believe that it was he that was an embarrassment to her.

 

Relaxation could not be found on the long flight home. Anger smothered the feeling of fatigue and would not cease nagging the thoughts. Now she wondered how she could have so easily dismissed the idea of going after those that most respected Connelly, to just have stayed around Paris for awhile and poison the reputation of his so-called greatness within the fashion industry.

 

Charisse picked up the cell phone and thought about speaking to her friend, ask her if it were advisable to catch an immediate flight back to Paris upon landing. “Yes,” she giggled, “that would be pretty costly.” But as she stared at the phone thoughts of her grandmother popped into the mind. Though they had never met, or for that matter know of each other’s existence, Charisse was so taken by her sweet and loving manner that all of a sudden the anger subsided and in its place sadness came rushing in.

 

Charisse could not even begin to muster up any sort of ill feeling towards the woman. In fact, the more she started to think about it the more she started to believe that regardless of the circumstance, if it had been made known that she was truly indeed the daughter of Connelly O’Brien that the sweet and loving woman would have openly accepted her in a heartbeat.

 

Fatigue returned. The cell phone plopped back down on the lap. Charisse stared out the window and to the bed of clouds knowing that the opportunity to do damage had passed.

Testimony in Defense of the Thief

 Stepping out of the taxi Charisse looked up at the gloomy penthouse floor then staggered towards the doorman. With a wave of the hand she motioned the building’s security personnel away and marched directly to the penthouse elevator.

 

The elevator ride was slow. She felt the fatigue setting in and was hoping to avoid contact with Connelly or anyone else. But as she stepped into the hallway and tiptoed towards the apartment door a voice was heard, “Oh, you’re back.”

 

Fury overtook fatigue. A release of adrenaline had the mind fuming at full speed.   Thoughts over the situation with Connelly’s mother had her about to unleash the vile and true judgments against him but were squelched. She knew if the visit to her grandmother was made known then suspicion might be raised therefore ruining the vengeance scheme.

 

“What a rotten thing to do,” grumbled Charisse as she turned and walked towards Cheryl.

 

“What rotten thing?”

 

Charisse followed Cheryl into Connelly’s apartment, threw the umbrella onto the couch and plopped down next to it. “He sent me all the way to Paris just to pick up that lousy old umbrella.”

 

Cheryl chuckled. “That’s Connelly.”

 

“Where is he?”

 

“I don’t know…hey wait a minute, weren’t you supposed to be gone for a couple of weeks?”

 

“Yeah, but I decided to come back early.”

 

“Wow!” bellowed Cheryl as she stepped towards