Authors: Jenna Pizzi
Chance Encounters
By
Jenna
Pizzi
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Amazon
Edition
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Chance
Encounters
Copyright
© 2013 by Jenna Pizzi
Editor:
Melissa Ringsted
Cover
Artist:
Mae I Design
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Without
limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or
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the author of this book.
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents
are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without
permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized,
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EMMA CLOSED THE trunk of her Montego
Blue BMW and took one last look at her Malibu home. It had been the house of
her dreams, or so she thought. It had been the place that she’d called home for
more than six years, with her now ex-fiancé Matt.
She reflected on the last eight years of their life
together. Never once had she seen any warning signs that they were in trouble.
She never would have suspected that either one of them had been even remotely
unhappy. That’s why it came as such a shock to her when she found Matt in their
bed, tangled in the sheets with another woman.
Emma reluctantly walked to the driver’s side door of her car
and climbed in. She was as ready as she’d ever be to embark on her new path in
life, while attempting to let go of the heartache of her past. She couldn’t
help but notice Matt standing at the top of the brick walkway, pleading for her
to change her mind. It broke her heart. He was the one who did this to them,
not her, yet she couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be more torn up
about it than she was.
After taking a deep breath, Emma slowly exhaled. It took all
of her willpower not to get out of the car and tell him that they’d work it
out. They had always been able to work through everything else in the past. She
wondered if maybe this could be one of those times, too.
She shook her head at the very thought, knowing how
ridiculous it was. She quickly turned away so she could no longer see him.
Adjusting her rearview mirror, she gave herself a once over and smiled. She
pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and pulled her car onto the
Pacific Coast Highway. It was time to head cross-country, begin her new life
with her new job, and work on a whole new her.
Alone with the open road ahead of her, Emma allowed the
scene to unfold in her mind. She recollected her life and how she came to be
exactly where she was … there, on a highway heading back to New York.
Emma had always dreamt of being a journalist. From the
very beginning, she would make up fictitious, newsworthy stories. Even before
she knew how to write, she would simply scribble lines in her notebook,
pretending that they were her articles. Her mother had been a journalist for
their local town paper in upper state New York. Emma spent countless hours
sitting in the newspaper office, observing her mother at the typewriter,
clicking away at the keys. The very sound of her mother’s fingers connecting
with the keys of the typewriter soothed and comforted her. She longed to sit
and type, just like her mother.
Emma accompanied her mother on excursions following up on
tips for a story. Her mother used to call it their “adventures.” They travelled
to many local businesses where they interviewed the owners. They attended all
of the town festivals and events. Emma loved to watch her mother in action; she
was always so carefree and happy. Her mother knew absolutely everyone in town,
and they all adored her. Emma always thought that her mother must have been the
most important person in town because she knew everyone, and everyone knew her.
Growing up in Sacket’s Harbor, it had been just the two
of them. Emma’s father was a firefighter, and he’d died on the job when she was
too young to remember him. Her mother often told her all about him and how he
had been a hero. He had saved an entire family from a house fire, and gone back
to find the little girl’s cat. That was when the structure collapsed, taking
her father with it. Emma wished she’d had the chance to known him, but she did
know just how much he had loved them both.
Her mother’s job didn’t pay very much, due to the fact
they were from a small town. When Emma was about eight, she remembered
listening to her mother on the phone, talking about a big job opportunity in
Manhattan, but her mother didn’t want Emma growing up in a city environment.
Her mother would always choose the small town community any day over some large
impersonal city. She loved the idea of neighbor helping neighbor, and you just
don’t get that in the city.
So, needless to say, money was often tight for them. Emma
had to rely on other people’s hand-me-downs for her clothing needs. It was fine
when she was younger, but once Emma became a teenager, she didn’t want other
people’s discarded clothes. She didn’t like feeling as if she were a charity
case just because they couldn’t afford new things. She wanted what she saw all
the other girls had: designer clothes that were new, not handed down.
Her mother tried hard to save enough money to take Emma
to the big mall in the next town over, just so she could pick out some new
things here and there. Emma was always grateful to her mother, but felt guilty
knowing that it would put her mother a month behind on the electricity bill.
As soon as Emma was old enough, she took a full-time job
at a local boutique. She made a promise to herself that she would get out of
this small town and make something of herself. She’d get herself and Mama out
of that town and show her that they could be happy somewhere else. So, she
saved most of what she earned, and her boss was always very generous with great
discounts on the all clearance items.
Emma worked really hard. She woke early to clean up the
house. She then spent her days in school, and her evenings at the store. By the
time she got home, she’d fix herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and do
all of her assignments. She was so busy between school and work that she hadn’t
realized that her mother had become very thin and frail. She didn’t notice that
her mother had been frequently calling in sick to work. It wasn’t until her
mother collapsed on the kitchen floor that Emma realized her mother had been
extremely sick, and just not telling her.
Emma was only eighteen years old when her mother passed
away, and only four months away from her high school graduation. It was the
hardest time in Emma’s life. She was mad at herself for not taking the time to
notice that her own mother was sick. She was even more upset when a close
family friend told Emma that her mother didn’t seek help because she couldn’t
afford the medical expense.
Emma wanted to prove to herself that she could get out of
the small town. She worked harder than she ever had before, and she graduated
top of her class.
With the money she saved up from all of the long hours at
the boutique, and with the money she made from the sale of her childhood home,
Emma was able to pay her way through journalism school in Southern California.
She worked full-time as a waitress, while taking a double
course load at school. By her sophomore year, Emma no longer wanted to live in
the dorm; it just wasn’t her lifestyle. All her roommate ever did was party and
bring home random guys who ended up spending the night. Emma often had to sleep
with her earphones on and music turned up loud enough to drown out the noise.
Then there it was, a flyer, posted on the restaurant
bulletin board:
Emma ripped down the entire flyer and stuffed it into her
apron. During her break, she lined up a walk through as soon as her shift was
over.
Emma knocked on the door of the apartment, and Renee
answered. After one look at the girl, Emma felt completely homely compared to
the blonde Barbie doll standing in front of her. Emma found herself nervously
adjusting her work shirt as Renee invited her inside. The apartment reminded
her of something out of a girly fantasy magazine; everything sparkled. She
noticed that the room was filled with mirrors and covered in zebra and leopard
print, from the rugs, to the pillows, to the curtains hanging in the windows.
Renee smiled at Emma as she looked around the room.
Renee showed her the two bedrooms, the bathroom, the
shared living room. Emma was thrilled. It was clean and pretty, and it sure
beat living in the small one room dorm. Plus, the two girls hit it off
instantly. Renee was aspiring to be a TV anchorwoman and Emma was aspiring to
get into journalism. It was instant kinship.
Emma moved in the very next day. She didn’t own much.
Most of her belongings fit into three cardboard boxes. Renee teased her about
how little Emma owned and promised her that they would fix that.
The two girls studied together, ate together, relaxed
together, and on occasion, hit the town together. They were like the sisters
they always wished that they had.
By college graduation, Emma had landed herself a job
writing obituaries at a local newspaper. She knew it was nothing glamorous, but
like Renee told her, “It’s only up from here, babe. Only up.”
Renee, of course, only had to bat her eyelashes and she
landed a job as a reporter for a local channel. “Well,” she said, “I’ll just
have to make the stories more interesting, juicy even. I’ll get my face out
there, babe, you just wait and see. Within five years I’ll have my own morning
show.”
Emma always admired Renee’s confidence. Emma was just a
quiet, reserved country bumpkin from a small town. Renee was the one who
introduced her to the right clothes that accentuate her body, and the correct
heels to make her stand taller than her five foot six height. She learned how
to apply her make-up just the right way to give her smoky, sultry brown eyes.
Emma was finally in a place in her life where she was transforming and
beginning to live the lifestyle that she promised herself she would. She would
never allow herself to revert back to the girl who needed the handed down
clothes. She was determined to leave that part of her life behind her.
Emma pulled her car off of the interstate and into a
self-service gas station. As she placed the nozzle into her gas tank to fill it
up, her phone beeped to inform her that she had a new voicemail. Emma slowly
picked up the phone and looked at the screen. “Ugh! Come on, Matt. You calling
me every half an hour is definitely not going to solve anything.” She was about
to throw the phone back onto her seat when it made a ding sound, indicating a
new text message. –Emma, will you please call me. Don’t leave like this. We can
work through it. I love you.-
