THE GIRL FROM THE ALLEY

Strangers Until Morning

Saturday Night — Forty-Three Dollars and Seventy-Five Cents

Erica Miller sat on the edge of her motel bed, counting her money.

Forty-three dollars.

And seventy-five cents.

She counted it again, as though a second inspection might somehow produce more.

It didn't.

"Well," she muttered, "at least I'm not completely broke."

At twenty-seven, Erica had spent the last two weeks discovering just how expensive starting a new life could be.

She had arrived in town with two suitcases, a little savings, and the determination to make something of herself.

The savings had disappeared with alarming speed.

Motel rooms. Meals. Transportation. Job interviews.

And the occasional cup of coffee that cost nearly as much as a proper breakfast.

But yesterday, everything had changed.

She had landed a job.

A real job.

A live-in position at one of the enormous mansions in the city's most exclusive neighborhood.

The salary was considerably better than anything she had earned before, and the arrangement included a private room, meals, and one full day off every week.

She would be helping with housekeeping, serving meals when needed, and generally assisting the household staff.

The employment agency had assured her that the family was respectable, the house beautiful, and the working conditions excellent.

Erica had already visited the mansion for her final interview on Thursday.

She had met Mrs. Whitmore, the lady of the house, and the household manager, who had shown her the room she would occupy.

It wasn't particularly large, but it had its own bathroom, a comfortable bed, and a lovely view of the gardens.

After two weeks in a shabby motel, it had seemed like paradise.

Best of all, she could move in on Monday morning.

No more motel bills.

No more worrying about where she would sleep.

And, once she received her first paycheck, perhaps she could begin saving again.

Erica looked around her tiny room.

The wallpaper was peeling near the bathroom door. The carpet had seen better decades. The air conditioner rattled whenever it started.

But tonight, none of that mattered.

Tomorrow would be her last full day here.

Monday would be the beginning of something better.

She stood, straightened her short denim skirt, slipped into her sandals, and checked her reflection.

Blonde hair tied loosely behind her head. Bright blue eyes. A little tired, perhaps, but still pretty enough.

"Time to celebrate, Erica."

There was a small neighborhood pub next door.

Nothing fancy.

But she could afford one beer.

Perhaps even two.

She picked up her handbag, checked that she had her room key, and stepped outside.

That was when she heard the scream.

The Back Alley

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

Erica froze.

The cry came from the narrow alley behind the motel.

Then came the sound of running footsteps.

A frightened voice.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Erica didn't hesitate.

She ran toward the alley entrance.

A young woman was racing toward her, barefoot, her expensive-looking dress torn at the shoulder.

Behind her came three men.

One shouted something ugly.

Another laughed.

The woman stumbled.

Erica grabbed her arm.

"COME ON!"

The stranger looked at her in terror.

"They're after me!"

"I CAN SEE THAT! RUN!"

Erica pulled her toward the motel's exterior staircase.

The men were still coming.

"HEY! STOP!"

Erica ignored them.

She shoved the woman ahead of her.

"UPSTAIRS! SECOND FLOOR!"

They scrambled up the metal stairs.

Erica's sandals slapped against the steps as she practically dragged the frightened woman along the balcony.

Room 214.

She fumbled with the key.

"Come on, come on..."

The lock turned.

She pushed the woman inside, followed her, and slammed the door.

Click.

Deadbolt.

Chain.

Then she switched off the light.

"Stay down," she whispered.

The stranger was trembling violently.

Erica guided her toward the wall beside the window.

Outside, footsteps echoed across the parking lot.

"Where'd she go?"

"Check the stairs!"

Erica's heart hammered.

The woman clutched her arm.

"Oh, God. Oh, God."

"Shhh. You're safe. Just be quiet."

Someone ran along the balcony.

A shadow passed the curtains.

Then another.

Erica held her breath.

A man's voice sounded directly outside.

"She couldn't have disappeared!"

"Maybe she went into the bar."

"Then let's check there!"

Footsteps retreated.

Erica waited.

Five minutes.

Ten.

She carefully lifted the corner of the curtain.

The men were searching the parking lot.

One looked inside a parked car.

Another walked toward the street.

The third cursed loudly.

Eventually they climbed into a battered sedan.

The engine started.

And they drove away.

Erica let the curtain fall.

"Okay," she whispered. "I think they're gone."

The stranger collapsed onto the edge of the bed.

And began to cry.

The Girl with No Shoes

Erica switched on the bedside lamp.

Only now did she get a proper look at the woman she had rescued.

She was beautiful.

Perhaps twenty-five, with long dark hair, enormous brown eyes, and delicate features.

Her dress had clearly been expensive once.

Now one shoulder was ripped, the hem was torn, and there was dirt on her bare feet.

She had a small scrape on one knee.

Erica knelt beside her.

"Are you hurt?"

The woman shook her head.

"I don't think so."

"Did they hit you?"

"No. One grabbed me. I got away."

"Do you want me to call the police?"

The woman looked frightened all over again.

"No!"

Erica hesitated.

"Are you sure?"

"Please. Not yet. I just... I can't."

"All right. We can talk about it."

The woman wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For dragging you into this."

Erica smiled gently.

"You didn't drag me anywhere. I came running all by myself."

The woman gave a small, shaky laugh.

"I'm Erica," she said. "What's your name?"

"Sophie."

"Well, Sophie, you're safe for now."

Sophie looked around the little motel room.

The worn carpet.

The cheap curtains.

The television with its cracked plastic casing.

Then back at Erica.

"You live here?"

"For another day and a half."

Sophie looked puzzled.

"You're leaving?"

"Monday morning. I'm moving somewhere much nicer."

"That's good."

"Very good."

Erica sat beside her.

"Now, do you want to tell me what happened?"

Sophie took a deep breath.

"I thought I was going to a party," she whispered. "A girl I knew invited me. She said there would be music, drinks, some interesting people."

Erica listened.

"But when we got there, things were wrong. The men kept watching me. One of them took my handbag. When I asked for it back, he laughed."

Sophie's hands began trembling.

"Then I heard them talking in the next room. About how much money they could get for me. About taking me somewhere else tonight."

Erica felt her stomach tighten.

"Oh, God."

"They weren't joking, Erica. One of them said I was pretty enough to make them a fortune."

Sophie's eyes filled with tears.

"I tried to leave. One grabbed me. Another blocked the door. They said I wasn't going anywhere until they'd finished with me."

Erica put an arm around her.

"How did you get away?"

"There was a kitchen door. Someone left it open. I pushed past him and ran."

She looked down at her torn dress.

"One of them caught my shoulder. I thought he was going to pull me back."

Her voice broke.

"I got away, but they chased me. I didn't know where I was. I didn't have my phone, my money, anything."

She began crying.

"If you hadn't been there..."

Erica drew her closer.

"But I was there."

Sophie clung to her.

"They would have taken me away."

"I know."

"And I don't think anyone would ever have found me."

Erica held her tightly.

"You're here now, Sophie. They didn't get you."

After a while, Erica reached for her phone.

"We really should tell the police. They could still be out there looking for someone else."

Sophie shook her head violently.

"Please, Erica. I can't. Not tonight."

"All right. But think about it, okay?"

Sophie nodded.

"Okay."

Erica squeezed her hand.

"First things first. Let's get you cleaned up."

A Hot Shower and a Second Chance

Sophie looked down at her torn dress.

"Oh, God. Look at me."

Erica followed her gaze.

"Well, you've definitely had better evenings."

Sophie laughed through her tears.

"That's one way to put it."

"Listen. Why don't you take a shower? You can use my bathroom."

Sophie looked up.

"Really?"

"Of course."

"But I don't have any clothes."

Erica glanced toward her open suitcase.

"I've got a few things. We're about the same size."

She pulled out a clean T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

"Here. They should fit."

Sophie accepted them.

"Thank you."

"No problem. There are towels in the bathroom."

Sophie hesitated.

"Erica?"

"Yes?"

"You're not going to leave?"

Erica looked at her in surprise.

"Of course not."

"Promise?"

Erica smiled.

"Promise."

Sophie disappeared into the bathroom.

A moment later, the shower started.

Erica sat on the bed and finally allowed herself to breathe.

What a night.

She had been planning to enjoy one quiet beer.

Instead, she had nearly been run over by three angry men and was now sheltering a frightened stranger.

She glanced at the clock.

Eleven-fifteen.

Then she looked at her little pile of money on the dresser.

Forty-three dollars and seventy-five cents.

Enough for tomorrow's meals and the taxi to her new home on Monday.

Barely.

She sighed.

The shower stopped.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened.

Sophie emerged wrapped in a motel towel, her damp dark hair hanging around her shoulders.

Erica looked up.

And forgot what she had been thinking about.

Without the torn dress and frightened expression, Sophie was even more beautiful.

She smiled shyly.

"I hope you don't mind. I thought I'd let my clothes dry a little."

"Of course not."

Sophie looked around.

"Do you have a hairdryer?"

"Somewhere in that drawer, I think."

Erica stood to find it.

Sophie watched her rummaging through the dresser.

"You're very kind."

Erica laughed.

"I've been called worse."

"Seriously. You don't even know me."

"Well, I know your name. That's a start."

Sophie smiled.

"And I know yours."

"See? We're practically old friends."

For the first time that evening, Sophie laughed properly.

It was a lovely sound.

Erica found the hairdryer and handed it to her.

Then she noticed Sophie's bare feet.

"Do you have shoes somewhere?"

Sophie shook her head.

"I lost them running."

"Well, I've got some flip-flops you can borrow."

"You're going to give me everything you own?"

Erica grinned.

"Not everything. I'm keeping the television."

They both laughed.

No Place to Go

It was nearly midnight when Sophie finally emerged from the bathroom wearing Erica's borrowed T-shirt and shorts.

Her hair was dry.

Her color had returned.

And she looked considerably more relaxed.

Erica had made two cups of instant coffee.

"Sorry," she said. "It's all I've got."

Sophie accepted a cup.

"It's perfect."

They sat together on the edge of the bed.

"Do you have someone you can call?" Erica asked.

Sophie shook her head.

"My phone was in my bag."

"Do you know anyone nearby?"

"Not anyone I can get hold of tonight."

Erica considered that.

"Well, you can stay here."

Sophie looked at her.

"Really?"

"Of course. It's not the Ritz, but the bed's comfortable enough."

"Where will you sleep?"

Erica laughed.

"Well, unless you're terribly opposed to sharing, I was planning to sleep right here."

Sophie smiled.

"I wouldn't mind."

"Good. Because the floor looks awfully uncomfortable."

For a while they drank their coffee and talked.

Sophie was twenty-five.

She liked books, old movies, swimming, and Italian food.

She hated being told what to do.

She had a complicated relationship with her family.

And she had recently been trying to find some independence.

Erica told her about arriving in town two weeks earlier with her savings and two suitcases.

About the endless job interviews.

The expensive motel.

The fear of running out of money.

And finally, the wonderful job offer that had arrived just in time.

"Starting Monday," Erica said proudly, "I'm going to have a real job, a proper room, and a regular paycheck."

Sophie smiled.

"That's wonderful."

"It's housekeeping work. Nothing glamorous."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"I know. And I'm actually looking forward to it."

"Then you should be proud."

Erica grinned.

"I am."

Sophie looked at her thoughtfully.

"You're a very unusual woman, Erica."

"Why?"

"Most people wouldn't have helped me tonight."

"Most people would have."

"No," Sophie said quietly. "I don't think they would."

Her eyes filled again.

Erica moved closer.

"Hey. What's wrong?"

Sophie shook her head.

"Nothing. It's just..."

She began to cry.

Erica put an arm around her.

"It's all right."

Sophie leaned against her.

"I was so scared."

"I know."

"I really thought..."

Her voice broke.

Erica held her gently.

"You're safe now."

For a long while they simply sat together.

Then Sophie lifted her head.

Their faces were very close.

"Erica?"

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Erica blinked.

Then smiled.

"I was rather hoping you would."

Sophie laughed softly.

And kissed her.

It was gentle at first.

Almost hesitant.

Then Sophie drew back and searched Erica's face.

"Was that all right?"

Erica smiled.

"More than all right."

She leaned forward and kissed Sophie again.

A little longer this time.

When they finally separated, Sophie was smiling.

"I didn't expect this."

"Neither did I."

"Do you mind?"

Erica brushed a strand of dark hair away from her face.

"Sophie, I think you're beautiful. And I think I'd very much like to kiss you again."

Sophie smiled.

"Then please do."

An Unexpected Night

Eventually Erica glanced toward the clock.

Almost one in the morning.

"We should probably get some sleep."

Sophie nodded.

"Probably."

Neither moved.

Erica laughed.

"You're not making this very easy."

Sophie smiled.

"Sorry."

"Don't be."

Erica switched off the bedside lamp, leaving only the soft glow from the parking lot outside.

They slipped beneath the covers.

Sophie turned toward her.

"Erica?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for letting me stay."

"You're welcome."

"And for everything else."

Erica smiled.

"Everything else?"

Sophie kissed her.

"Especially that."

Erica laughed softly.

"Well, in that case, you're very welcome."

Sophie settled close beside her.

For a while they talked in whispers.

Then they kissed again.

And again.

The little motel room had never seemed particularly romantic to Erica.

The air conditioner rattled.

The curtains were crooked.

And the mattress made an alarming squeak whenever someone moved.

But somehow, with Sophie beside her, none of it mattered.

They laughed when the bed squeaked.

They kissed when the laughter stopped.

And somewhere in the middle of a night neither woman had expected, the frightened stranger from the alley became something much more personal.

Sunday Morning — Gone

Erica woke to sunlight.

The motel room was quiet.

Very quiet.

She reached across the bed.

Empty.

"Sophie?"

No answer.

She sat up.

The bathroom door was open.

The borrowed towel lay folded on a chair.

Sophie's torn dress was gone.

So were Erica's T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops.

Erica frowned.

"Sophie?"

She climbed out of bed and looked around.

Nothing.

Then she noticed the dresser.

Her little pile of money was still there.

But it was smaller.

She counted it.

Twenty-three dollars and seventy-five cents.

Twenty dollars missing.

For a moment, she simply stood there.

Then she noticed a folded piece of motel stationery beside the money.

Her name was written across the front.

ERICA

She opened it.

Dear Erica,

I'm sorry.

I took twenty dollars from your money. I know you need it, and I know what a terrible thing it is to steal from someone who saved my life.

But I had to get home. I had no phone, no money, and I couldn't face asking you for anything more after everything you did for me.

I took some of your clothes too. I hope you can forgive me.

Last night was wonderful. You were wonderful.

I never expected to meet someone like you, and I'll never forget what you did for me.

I'm so sorry.

Sophie

Erica read the note twice.

Then she sat down on the bed.

"Well, damn."

She wasn't sure whether she felt angry, disappointed, or simply foolish.

Probably all three.

She had rescued a stranger.

Given her clothes.

Given her a place to sleep.

And spent a wonderful night with her.

Now the woman was gone.

And so was nearly half her money.

Erica stared at the note.

"Twenty dollars," she murmured.

Then she laughed bitterly.

"Well, sweetheart, you certainly knew how to make an exit."

For a moment, she wanted to cry.

Not so much because of the money.

Although she desperately needed it.

But because she had liked Sophie.

Really liked her.

She had thought the feeling was mutual.

Perhaps it had been.

Perhaps not.

There was no way to know.

She remembered the terrified young woman running barefoot through the alley.

The torn dress.

The tears.

The desperate fear in her eyes.

Sophie had needed to get home.

Perhaps she hadn't wanted to risk waking Erica and being persuaded to stay.

Perhaps she was ashamed.

Perhaps she'd simply panicked.

Erica sighed.

"You could have asked, sweetheart."

She folded the note carefully and placed it in her handbag.

Then she looked at the empty bed.

She was disappointed about the money.

But she was far more disappointed that Sophie had left without saying goodbye.

And that she would probably never see her again.

Sunday — The Last Day at the Motel

Erica spent Sunday packing.

There wasn't much to pack.

Two suitcases.

A few toiletries.

Some books.

And the clothes she had not lent to Sophie.

She treated herself to a cheap sandwich from the convenience store and spent most of the afternoon watching television.

Every now and then, she thought about the previous night.

Sophie's frightened face in the alley.

The way she had cried.

The way she had smiled.

The kisses.

The laughter.

And finally, that little note.

Erica wondered whether the twenty dollars had been for transportation.

Perhaps Sophie had needed to get somewhere safe.

Perhaps she had been too embarrassed to ask.

Erica wanted to believe that.

It made the whole thing a little easier.

By evening, her bags were packed.

She set her alarm for seven.

Then she lay back on the bed and looked at the ceiling.

"Tomorrow," she whispered.

Tomorrow, everything would be better.

Monday Morning — The Mansion

At nine-thirty Monday morning, Erica climbed into a taxi outside the motel.

Her two suitcases were in the trunk.

Her remaining money was barely enough to cover the ride.

But she was smiling.

She had been to the Whitmore mansion once before.

The employment agency had arranged her final interview there the previous Thursday, and she still remembered how nervous she'd been walking through the enormous front doors.

Mrs. Whitmore had been exceptionally pleasant, and the household manager had shown her the little room she would occupy.

It wasn't particularly large, but it had its own bathroom, a comfortable bed, and a lovely view of the gardens.

After two weeks in a shabby motel, it had seemed like paradise.

Now she was finally going back.

This time to stay.

The driver followed a broad, tree-lined avenue into one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the city.

The houses grew larger.

The gardens more elaborate.

Then the car turned through a pair of enormous wrought-iron gates.

Erica smiled.

She remembered the beautiful property from her interview.

The mansion was magnificent.

Three stories of pale stone, enormous windows, balconies, fountains, and perfectly maintained gardens.

A circular driveway swept toward an impressive entrance.

The driver stopped.

"Here you are."

Erica paid him in cash, collected her bags, and stood looking up at the house.

This is where I'm going to live.

She almost laughed.

Two days ago, she'd been worrying about affording another night in a shabby motel.

Now she was standing outside something that looked like a palace.

She climbed the steps and rang the bell.

A moment later, the door opened.

An elegant woman in her early fifties stood before her.

She had beautifully arranged silver-blonde hair, a warm smile, and the effortless confidence of someone accustomed to living in extraordinary surroundings.

"Erica! How lovely to see you again."

"Good morning, Mrs. Whitmore."

"Welcome back. And welcome to your new home."

Erica smiled.

"Thank you. I'm so happy to be here."

"Well, we're delighted you've joined us. Come inside."

The entrance hall was every bit as breathtaking as Erica remembered.

Marble floors.

A sweeping staircase.

Enormous paintings.

Fresh flowers arranged on an antique table.

And a chandelier that looked as though it belonged in a museum.

Mrs. Whitmore gestured toward her luggage.

"We'll have someone take those to your room."

"Thank you."

"Everything is ready for you. We'll give you time to unpack and settle in before we go over your duties."

"That sounds wonderful."

Mrs. Whitmore smiled.

"And of course, your meals are included. You'll have Sundays off, unless we arrange something different in advance."

Erica nodded.

"Perfect."

Mrs. Whitmore glanced toward the staircase.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet before we get you settled."

"Oh?"

"My daughter. She's staying with us for a while."

Erica smiled politely.

"Of course."

Mrs. Whitmore raised her voice.

"Darling? Would you come down for a moment?"

Footsteps sounded on the staircase.

A young woman appeared at the top.

She wore an elegant cream-colored blouse, a short fashionable skirt, and beautiful high heels.

Her dark hair fell softly around her shoulders.

She began descending the stairs.

Erica looked up.

And froze.

The young woman stopped halfway down.

Her eyes widened.

Her hand tightened around the banister.

Mrs. Whitmore smiled.

"Erica, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Sophia Whitmore."

The young woman stared at her.

Erica couldn't move.

The frightened stranger from the alley.

The beautiful woman who had spent Saturday night in her motel bed.

The woman who had disappeared with her clothes and twenty dollars.

Standing in the mansion where Erica had just been hired to work.

Sophie's face went white.

Her lips parted.

"Oh, my God."

THE END

Why had the daughter of a wealthy family been running barefoot through a dangerous alley? Why had she stolen twenty dollars from the woman who saved her? And what would happen now that Erica was about to move into her home?