“Don’t answer it,” he hissed to her.
“Why ever not?”
“Weston is looking for me.”
“Don’t tell me, you got sacked too,” she huffed.
“No, Cassie, I’ve not. Please,” he begged. “Just act like no one is home.” She scanned her brother’s face. His light brown eyes silently pleading with her. She nodded and went to sit on the sofa. Charles placed his bag on the chair and slid it back under the table. No one would see if it they looked in that direction.
The knock came again. It was louder this time. “I know you are in there.”Weston! “I saw the back window open. Now open the door!”
Cassie gave a little jump and placed her hand on her chest, willing her heart to slow down.
“What is all this racket?” her father said, getting up and walking towards the door. Charles tried to reach his father, but it was too late.
“Stockton,” Mr. Weston said, entering the apartment. He was so large that his frame took up the entire doorway. He had thinning dark hair on top of his head and a mustache that appeared to have food stuck in it. Cassie grimaced.
“Mr. Weston,” Cassie said. “Please have a seat.” She hurried to take the basket from the settee.
“I prefer to stand. This shouldn’t take long.” Cassie felt his eyes roam over her. She tried to suppress a shiver. “Cassandra, you look lovely tonight,” he said, stroking his mustache. She watched the crumbs fall to the floor. “It looks like there was an accident here.” Cassie followed his finger to the broken glass on the floor. “And it appears the wall is damaged. I’ll have to add that to your rent this month.”
“It was just a jar breaking, Mr. Weston,” Cassie hurriedly replied. “I just haven’t had a chance to clean it up.”
“Harrumph. Well I came to tell your father that I will send someone over with his items at the factory tomorrow. I can’t have a thief working the floor.”
Cassie gasped.
“A thief?” Charles cried. “My father is no thief. He didn’t take a thing from you.” Cassie could see his fists open and close.
“I saw the evidence with my own eyes. Spools of thread, scissors, buttons were stashed in his work box.”
“But aren’t those tools he would use for his job?” Cassie asked.
“Not anymore. He hasn’t sewn in years. Now he just checks the quality before items go out the door. That and drives everyone crazy with those habits of his.” Mr. Weston paced the floor. “But it wasn’t that. Money was stolen from the till. Money that was later found in that very same work box. I don’t know why I kept you on for so long.”
“No!” Cassie cried.
“I didn’t take a blasted thing from you, Weston,” her father insisted, standing to his full height. It had been so long since Cassie had seen him stand without his shoulders curled, she forgot just how tall he was.
“That is for the constable to decide. One look at you and you may be headed for the asylum, not prison.” Weston tapped his fingers against the settee back. “However, you may always pay restitution and we can consider the matter closed.” Weston looked at Charles. “Oh, you are fired too. I am sure if there is one thief in the family, there are more.”
Cassie flew to Charles’ side. “Say something,” she pleaded.
“There is nothing to say,” Charles met Weston’s glare. “His mind is already made up.”
What were they going to do?She doubted her father would be able to find work, and her brother had been working at the factory since he was seven. Nearly fifteen years. Folks just didn’t find other employment – they worked at one factory until they died.
“Oh, Cassandra, you can deliver your jackets tomorrow morning and then you may seek employment elsewhere. I will write a reference for you, of course.”
“Fired? I’m fired as well?” Cassandra asked. It all seemed like a bad dream.
Mr. Weston nodded. “And you have 30 days in which to vacate the property. Unless, of course…” he grinned.
“Unless what?” Charles asked.
“Cassandra becomes my wife. Then this whole matter will go away. You can have your jobs back and she will be taken care of.”
“No!” Cassie’s father and brother said at the same time. Cassie felt as though she would faint. He was nearly three times her age!
