Few are blessed with the ability to blindly chase their dreams, unburdened by the means to achieve them. If God handed out such traits at birth, Emily was undoubtedly first in line. From a young age, she knew she’d have everything she wanted—she just had to wish for it. With a flick of her finger, high school admirers carried her backpack, and lovesick romantics raced across town to fetch her favorite ice cream.
Her mother, Linda Marie, couldn’t fathom where her daughter’s high-society airs came from. Linda herself was a simple woman, never one to reach for the stars, having spent her entire adult life working at a poultry processing plant. The grueling, monotonous labor exhausted her, and often, after a shift, she’d collapse into bed still in her work clothes.
She barely had time or energy for her daughter.
Emily grew up without a father. He died of diphtheria years ago. Her only childhood companion was her grandmother, Evelyn Rose.
Evelyn’s ancestors on her father’s side had ties to old American aristocracy, so she fancied herself a sort of local Eleanor Roosevelt.
Teetering on the edge of senility, she adored romance novels and passed that passion on to young Emily. The girl began to imagine herself as a high-society lady, gradually transforming into a spoiled, morally unmoored young woman.
As an adult, Emily manipulated men effortlessly. But the problem was, in their small town, there wasn’t much to work with—either drunks or men who didn’t measure up.
Her mother pleaded, “Stop fooling around! You’ll end up an old maid! Youth and beauty fade fast, sweetheart!”
“So where am I supposed to find these men?” Emily snapped back. “Am I to blame that all that’s left around here are losers?”
“You should give Greg a chance,” Linda urged. “He’s been following you around for years, wearing out his welcome at our doorstep. He loves you, trust me.”
Emily just wrinkled her nose, curling her lip in disdain. “Why would I want Greg, with his measly septic tank cleaner’s paycheck? I’m not cut out for that kind of life, Mom. I’d rather charm a couple of rich sugar daddies and live the high life.”
“Watch yourself, girl, you’re asking for trouble! It’s not right to hop from bed to bed, selling yourself for fancy clothes. Those men are married, aren’t they?” Linda said sadly.
“Well, not all of them, Mom. Take Owen, for example! Ten years older, sure, but is that really a big deal? He’s got three clothing stalls at the market and a couple of auto shops on the bypass. That’s the kind of man I’m talking about, not Greg,” Emily replied, pleased with her cunning.