Thrift Store Bargains
The first thing Andrea Roe noticed about Leslie Michaels, the new receptionist at Quigley & Richards, Attorneys at Law, was her seemingly limitless wardrobe. Since she had been hired two months earlier to man the front desk at the Boston law firm, Leslie wore a different outfit to work each day, all of which were well made and obviously expensive. Andrea knew that the receptionist was a single woman living on her own, and it amazed her that Leslie could afford rent, utilities, food, a car and an extensive wardrobe on a receptionist's pay. Her parents might have had money, but she drove a twelve-year-old Subaru and lived in a studio apartment above a bookstore in Southie, neither of which pointed to her being born into a wealthy family.
Then one Saturday morning while Andrea was shopping at Braintree's South Shore Plaza, she ran into Leslie, and the two women decided to have lunch together at Johnny Rockets. Leslie was a warm, friendly person with a great sense of humor, and Andrea knew that the two of them were destined to become good friends.
"You know, Leslie, there's something I've been dying to ask you for some time now," Andrea confessed. "Where do you get all your beautiful clothes?"
"I guess I can share my secret with you. You don't seem like the type of person who would look down her nose at a poor, single, working girl," the receptionist laughed.
"How could I? In case you haven't noticed, I happen to be one myself."
"Then you must know how hard it is just to meet your day-to-day living expenses, let alone have money left over for shoes and clothes."
"I sure do. Frankly, I don't know how you can afford those silk blouses and cashmere sweaters. And some of your suits look like they cost at least two weeks' salary!"
"Would you be surprised to learn that I rarely pay more than five dollars for a blouse and that most of my suits cost less than twenty?"
"You're kidding! What's your secret? Do you know someone who gets them for you wholesale or are they off-the-back-of-a-truck specials?"
"No," Leslie laughed. "They're not hot. They're second-hand clothes. I buy them at Sally's Thrift Store in Salem."
"Seriously? Do you mean they have high-quality merchandise at a thrift store?"
"You've got to see this place to believe it. There's so much to choose from: sportswear, bathing suits, bathrobes, nightgowns, pajamas, coats, jackets and—best of all—designer clothes."
"It sounds like a great place. I'll have to check it out sometime."
"We can ride over there right now if you'd like. We'll take my car."
Forty minutes later Leslie pulled up in front of an old two-story Victorian-era building that had seen better days. From the outside, Sally's Thrift Store and Bargain Emporium was not nearly as impressive as its name implied. On the inside, it was not really much better. The first floor of the store reminded Andrea of an indoor flea market minus the vendors. Sally sold everything from old vinyl records and eight-track tapes, books, cookware, linens, jigsaw puzzles, knickknacks and toys to large and small appliances, exercise and fitness apparatus and furniture. Most of the items were old and used, with noticeable chipped wood, worn fabrics, nicks, scratches, smudges and stains. But scattered among the hand-me-downs and throw-me-outs were a few items in remarkably good condition.
"Come on, Andrea, the clothes are upstairs," Leslie called, "unless you want to stay down here and shop for a thigh master or a stuffed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle."
"Actually, I had my eye on that avocado green fondue pot," Andrea joked. "I think my grandmother had one just like it."
It was only when she saw the upper floor of Sally's that she was impressed. The thrift shop had an unbelievable selection of clothing to choose from. There was something to fit every taste as well as every waistline, all at prices even Walmart could not match.
The afternoon wore on, but neither Leslie nor Andrea was in any rush to leave. They were like two kids on a treasure hunt, frequently going to the dressing rooms to try on clothes. Both had their carryall baskets overflowing with bargains.
While the women were shopping, the owner of the store would, from time to time, bring up new items and hang them on the racks. On Sally's third such trip, Andrea saw her holding a red silk evening dress, one that was sure to capture a man's eye from across a crowded room.
Sally noticed Andrea's interest in the garment and told her, "A woman brought this dress in a few years ago, and I fell in love with it. I was hoping that I'd be able to wear it if I just lost a few pounds. But I've finally admitted to myself that I'll never fit my size twelve fanny into a size eight. So, it's out of my closet and into inventory."
Andrea was delighted.
"I take an eight. Could I try it on?"
"Sure. I knew someone would grab it the minute I put it on the rack."
As she admired her reflection in the dressing room's full-length mirror, Andrea smelled the faint scent of perfume that stubbornly clung to the dress. She recognized the fragrance: Possession. The feel of the exquisite fabric against her skin and the scent of the tantalizing perfume made her head spin. In the red silk dress, the mousy secretary was a different woman: glamorous, sexy and self-confident. Reluctantly, Andrea took the dress off and got back into her jeans and T-shirt. She felt like Cinderella after the stroke of midnight, out of the ball gown and back into the rags. It was then that she noticed the price: only fifteen dollars.
The practical side of her mind reasoned that even though the dress was an unbelievable bargain, it was still a waste of money to buy an outfit she couldn't wear. Except for an occasional wedding, she never had a use for formal attire. Andrea, a sensible young woman, usually followed the advice of her practical side; but on this occasion, she decided to ignore it and buy the dress.
That evening, in the privacy of her small apartment, the secretary again tried on her new garments—new to her at least. The fact that the clothes were used didn't bother her at all. Who cared if someone else wore them before her? Was it really any different than when she had worn hand-me-downs from her sister or borrowed outfits from her friends in high school? Besides, she reasoned, there was no way she could ever afford such clothes if she had to buy them new.
Andrea had always considered herself a plain girl with an unremarkable figure, but dressed in clothes that had been designed to enhance a woman's charms, a new woman emerged. About two or three evenings a week, she would try on the red dress, not because she believed she was gaining weight but simply because she loved the way she felt when she wore it. It was while she was admiring the feel of the red silk against her naked flesh, that she decided to have her long, straight hair cut in a shorter, more flattering style. The dress also inspired her to change the color from a mousy brown to a pale blond and to experiment with new shades of makeup that brought out the intensity of her blue eyes.
The other women at Quigley & Richards couldn't believe the change in her. Shy, mousy Andrea in her Kmart blue light special wardrobe was turning into a serious rival for the attention of the few eligible bachelors in the office. The men at the firm looked at the secretary with new interest, seeing her as a woman not just as an employee. One man, Boyd Pendleton, a young lawyer with a background of wealth and privilege and with a brilliant career ahead of him, took particular interest in the new and improved Andrea Roe. Their romance started one evening when Boyd asked her to work late.
After their work was finished, sometime around seven, Boyd turned to her and asked, "I hadn't realized it was so late. You haven't had anything to eat; have you? Why don't you let me take you out to dinner? It's the least I can do."
"You really don't have to, Mr. Pendleton."
"Call me Boyd. I'm hungry myself, so why don't we go out and get a bite to eat?"
It had been so innocent at first, at least as far as Andrea was concerned. They had an enjoyable dinner, followed by an unexpected yet pleasant goodnight kiss, but then things got out of hand. Soon afterward Andrea fell in love with the handsome lawyer and began dreaming of one day becoming Mrs. Boyd Pendleton. Not wanting to be fodder for the office gossipmongers, Andrea and Boyd were careful to keep their private and professional lives separate. In fact, no one at Quigley & Richards ever guessed that the two of them were having an affair.
* * *
The holiday season was soon upon them, and the company Christmas party was approaching. Held at the Boston Harbor Hotel, it was a formal event that all employees eagerly looked forward to every year. Andrea desperately wanted to go to the party as Boyd's guest, but he never asked her, and she lacked the courage to invite him.
He probably doesn't want anyone to know about us, she supposed. Maybe the partners frown on the lawyers fraternizing with the clerical staff. You can't blame them, what with all the sexual harassment suits there are nowadays.
She decided to go alone, believing that once she arrived at the party there was no reason why she could not spend at least part of the evening in Boyd's company.
As the night of the event approached, Andrea grew more excited. Not only did she plan on wearing the red silk dress she bought at Sally's Thrift Store and Bargain Emporium, but she also spent nearly all of her Christmas bonus on a small bottle of Possession perfume. She considered it a worthwhile investment. Between the dress and the captivating scent, there was no way Boyd could ignore her.
On the day of the firm's Christmas party, the secretary was beaming with happiness and high expectations.
Leslie noticed the radiant look on her young coworker's face and commented, "You're awfully happy today. Do you have a hot date for the party tonight?"
"No. In fact, I'm going alone."
For several weeks, the receptionist had suspected that her friend was seeing someone who, one, worked for the law firm and, two, was married. What other reason was there for all the secrecy?
"Speaking of hot dates," said Louise Trumbull, a paralegal and notorious gossip. "Guess who's come back from Europe just in time for the party tonight?"
"Europe? It must be Vanessa Carr," replied Thelma Miller, another secretary.
"Right. She flew in last night."
"That explains why Boyd Pendleton was so late this morning," Thelma laughed.
The mention of Boyd's name caught Andrea's attention.
"Is this Vanessa Carr a friend of Boyd's?" she asked, trying to feign only a mild curiosity.
"She's his fiancée," Louise answered. "But I don't honestly know when they'll ever be on the same continent long enough to get married."
Thelma further explained, "Vanessa Carr is a fashion photographer, so she spends more time in Paris, London, Milan and Rome than she does in Boston."
The conversation turned to the pitfalls of long-distance relationships, Vanessa's brilliant career and the unlikelihood of her being able to handle both a demanding job and marriage.
Neither Leslie nor the two older women noticed how quiet and withdrawn Andrea had become. Her mind and emotions were in turmoil. Boyd had been using her, she thought bitterly, amusing himself while his fiancée was away. How could she possibly go to the party now? It would be far too humiliating to see him there with Vanessa.
When Andrea got home from work that evening and saw the red dress carefully laid out on the bed, she broke down in tears. But as she clutched the red silk garment to her breasts, a newfound strength engulfed her—strength and a burning desire for revenge. With grim determination, the secretary washed her tear-stained face and carefully applied her makeup. She put on the dress, and once again a magical transformation occurred. As she dabbed Possession behind her ears and on her wrists, Andrea felt wiser, more sophisticated and ready to take on the Boyd Pendletons of the world.
* * *
In the elegant ballroom of the Boston Harbor Hotel, Andrea sat next to Leslie and her date. On the outside, she appeared to be enjoying herself; but on the inside, she was impatiently waiting for Boyd to make an appearance. An hour later he and his fiancée arrived.
As Andrea had suspected, Vanessa Carr was gorgeous, probably more so than many of the supermodels she worked with. The beautiful fashion photographer wore a black velvet dress she had bought in Paris, and her auburn hair had been professionally styled for the occasion. Everything about the stunning Bostonian screamed haute couture, elegance and old money. In comparison, the secretary looked gaudy and cheap in her second-hand red silk dress and her Clairol bleached blond hair.
Andrea was surprised when, in between the first and second courses of the meal, Boyd Pendleton came to her table and asked her to dance. Beneath false smiles, they carried on a conversation in whispers so that the others on the dance floor would not overhear them.
"I should have told you about Vanessa," he apologized guiltily. "I would have eventually—honestly. I just hadn't expected her to come home so suddenly."
"Well, I would have found out sooner or later anyway. You know how people at the office gossip. At least we were smart enough to keep our little affair a secret, that way I'll be spared their pity."
"Andrea, it doesn't have to end between us. Vanessa will be going back to Paris soon, and I'll be free again."
"Free? You're engaged to marry her. You're not free. Look. I know what happened. You were bored, and I was available."
"Don't make it sound so cheap. It wasn't like that at all. Men in my position are expected to marry women like Vanessa. My family has certain expectations for my future. I'll practice law for a few years, and then I'll go into politics. A woman with Vanessa's wealth and family connections will be an asset to my public life."
"And me?"
He smiled and answered, "A woman like you is an asset to my private life."
It took every ounce of self-control that Andrea possessed to remain calm, to finish the dance and to return to her table as though nothing had happened, as though her heart and pride had not been mortally wounded.
Somehow the heartbroken secretary managed to get through the evening without incident, but when she got home, her fragile façade shattered. She was devastated. Her blossoming love quickly turned to hate. Eager for vengeance, she drove to Boyd's apartment and waited in the darkness for him to return. At three in the morning, he drove up, alone, in his late model Mercedes. He got out of the car and walked up the driveway. As he neared his front door, he saw a flash of red.
"Andrea?" he called. "Is that you? Vanessa is spending the night with her parents. Why don’t you come inside, and I’ll fix us a drink."
Andrea raised the gun and shot him in the heart. Within the hour she was taken to the police station where, still wearing the red silk dress, she was led to an interrogation room.
"Your lawyer is on his way over," the homicide detective informed her. "We'll begin your questioning when he gets here."
"I don't have a lawyer," Andrea said.
"You work for the firm of Quigley & Richards, right? It seems Mr. Quigley has learned of Pendleton's murder. He's sending someone over here to represent you."
Irwin Samuels, one of the finest criminal defense attorneys in New England, was assigned to her case. Why had the firm appointed him to defend her? Did they hope to avoid the scandal that would arise when news of the affair and subsequent murder was brought out in the trial? Doubtless, Samuels was being brought in for damage control.
Before the policeman could begin questioning the suspect, Irwin Samuels requested a word in private with his client. The detective obligingly left the room, and the lawyer took a manila file folder out of his briefcase.
"Andrea, what's your relationship to Mavis Carpenter?"
The name was unfamiliar to Andrea.
"Who?"
The lawyer removed a photograph, a police mugshot, from the file and placed it in front of her. Andrea bore a strong resemblance to the woman in the photo. Both had the same blue eyes and blond hair, and even their hairstyles were similar.
"I'll admit she looks like me, but I've never seen her before."
"Not only do you look like her, but you're wearing a dress that looks remarkably like one Mavis owned. I know because I remember seeing her in such a dress the night she was arrested."
"What did she do?"
"Like you, she shot her lover. He jilted her for someone else, and Mavis was not the type of woman to take an insult lightly."
"How can you be so sure this dress was like hers?" the secretary asked.
"I was her lawyer. When I saw her at the police station shortly after the murder, she was still wearing it. She was a beautiful woman, and the dress called attention to her ample charms. I admit I couldn't take my eyes off her. When you came to the party tonight, wearing that dress, it was like seeing Mavis Carpenter walk through the door."
"What happened to her?"
"She's serving a life sentence in the Suffolk County House of Correction."
* * *
Irwin Samuels managed to successfully plea-bargain Andrea's case and got his client off with a fifteen-year sentence. With good behavior, she could be out in less than ten. The former secretary was sent to the same prison where, a few days after her arrival, she met Mavis Carpenter.
"So, you're Andrea Roe," the inmate said in a low, husky voice.
"You know who I am?"
"Irwin Samuels told me about you. He phoned me after you were taken into custody and wanted to know if we were related in any way. He thought you might be my kid sister."
"He asked me that, too. He said not only do we look alike, but that I was wearing a dress just like one you owned."
"A red silk one, right? That was my favorite dress. Whenever I wore it, I felt this amazing sense of self-confidence. It was as though I became a different person."
"What happened to the dress?" Andrea asked suddenly.
Mavis shrugged.
"I can't say for sure, but it probably wound up back at the place I bought it from, a second-hand shop in Salem that goes by the ridiculous name of Sally's Thrift Store and Bargain Emporium."
On that note, their conversation came to an end, and Mavis Carpenter walked away, leaving behind the lingering scent of Possession.
I see Salem went shopping at Sally's Thrift Store and Bargain Emporium.
