"Damn you, Charlie Jergens." Christine tossed the phone on the sofa. "And damn you Laci, Jim, and the whole freaking corporation. I should let the machine get Kathy's calls because all they do is depress me. And make me talk to myself." She paced like a wild thing caged. Why did Charlie still have his position while she got placed on leave? Because he knew so many of the corporate administrators, was the up and coming golden boy, or threw great parties? Damn him. "I want to be glad you are unaffected and your position secure, but I'm not such a big person. It's not fair when your signature appeared on those invoices too. Must be nice to have friends in high places."
Christine stalked to her front door and slung it open. Bright sunlight filled the hall, glittering off the polished wood floors and the glass of the new screen door she'd installed with lots of curses and smashed fingers. Fresh air might help vent her anger. "What the hell kind of word is 'fine'. It's a damn dead word. Everything will be 'fine' he said. Yeah, maybe for him."
She traced the splintered wood near the top of the doorframe. She recalled that day, her husband's funeral. Charlie had taken Adam and Anna to see their paternal grandmother when their Uncle Earl 'came to right a wrong'. Christine shuddered. Earl had shot at her as she stood in the doorway then shattered three windows while she lay on the floor sobbing and calling the police with Maddy crouched beside her. The officers came and took Earl away. Detectives investigated and asked if she wanted to press charges. She declined just wanting it all over. Earl had persisted, driving by her house, filing lawsuits, calling at all hours, following her when she shopped, anything to harass her until she'd finally taken out a protective order.
Christine sighed. She should replace these panels before Anna came home from college and Adam moved back in. They were a reminder none of them needed. "I will not let this crap at work get to me just like I didn't let Earl get to me." She smacked the wood then waved her stinging hand in the air. "I won't." She'd not felt secure enough to leave this door open in months; today she would, her own personal victory. If she survived a lunatic former brother-in-law, she could survive a thief trying to frame her.
Outside, the tire swing rope marks could still be seen on the giant oak tree, though the swing itself had been gone for years. She should put a bench under there now, a cozy nook to curl up and read. Soon flowers would burst through the ground; all the bulbs she'd planted would create bright, happy colors. She raised her arms, gave a little twirl in the warmth of the sun, and felt simple pure joy in being alive. "I don't need the old corporation job. I could be a gardener. Or a destination wedding planner. Or someone who restores houses. I really should start serious planning on that second story addition for this place. I've wanted it for years. No time like the present to start. I could build it myself." She gave her yard one last smile, strolled back into her living room to pick up the nail gun and finish the base molding waiting on the covered floor.
She held it like a pistol, James Bond style. "Ha! Take this, Corporate America! There's a new free woman in town, and I've sanded, painted, ripped, refinished, and polished. The house smells of hardwood floor restorer and new paint, my body aches, and I have bruises on bruises. The home improvement store employees don't dare call me 'the little helpless woman' and know me by my first name now. This house is in better shape than it ever has been. I am woman, hear me hammer!"
She blasted music and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the shinning window. The house might be awesome, but she had lost weight, a good thing. Her hands were scratched and rough, not soft or delicate. Her fingernails would never be the same. "I'd love to see Laci doing this in biker shorts and a sports bra, Ms. Perfect Hands. Has she touched you with those perfect little hands yet, Charlie boy?" She had a flash of Laci straddling Charlie, his gorgeous body entering hers.
A loud clack filled the air. "Damn it. Not paying attention is a dangerous thing when using a power tool. Now I've nailed the floor and have to rip them out before the molding slides flat. Damn it, damn it, damn it!" She placed the nail gun on the floor and grabbed a hammer to tug the misplaced nails free one by one. A favorite song began to play so she sang along, music to soothe the caged beast. Damn the embezzler, damn Laci, and damn Charlie Jergens.
***
Charlie knocked on the screen door. When there was no answer, he knocked again harder. Music blared, some Celtic beat, as he tried the door handle, and he cursed when it turned. Damn it, Christine knew better than to leave her front door unlocked after the trouble she'd gone through. He opened the door and called, "Christine?"