96It was colder than Los Angeles, Charisma thought, as they pulled up outside their new home. The biting air, stinging every square millimetre of her skin. She pulled her maroon long coat around her like a blanket.
She stepped out, her red stilettos, almost sliding without grips, across the sidewalks leaf covered concrete. She caught the car door, just before the she shut it, to keep balance.
Looking up to the sky, she sighed, there was a storm brewing, and it looked pretty vicious, there was a smell of fresh dew, from the morning lingering in the air. Charisma squirmed, her nose repelling the herby drift, from the village green, from which the road circulated.
"This is home then." She said, looking up at the eighteenth century building.
She was gob smacked by its glory. Above the door read a sign "Established 1867". Wow, she thought, she'd never seen anything that old bar the cowboy hut she visited when she was only five years old up in the Rocky's. But nothing made of brick. That building was only scabby old rotted wood.
"Has it got a pool Max?" She questioned her father.
"'Fraid not-anyway it's a bit nippy to be going swimming dontcha think?" He came back at her, and she simply nodded.
He retrieved the two suitcases, they had brought, part from the two lorry loads of furniture, expected to deliver later on in the day. He looked up, almost in tandem with Charisma again. He hoped it wouldn't rain. He didn't want the velvet flowered chaise longue shrivelling up in the damp air. And he hadn't given any of the delivery men, any plastic sheets, just incase either. He really should have checked the weather-when they were half way, in Iowa.
He sighed. "So we ready to see what's going on in this old mansion then?"
Charisma coughed. "I would hardly call it a mansion."
"Pardon me?" He said astonished, ignoring her remark, he pursued up the quaint garden path, and to the front door.
From here the grandeur of the house was more obvious. There was a tiny circle like window, above the limestone arched doorway, and to each side, on the lower and upper floors, were two windows. It was like one of those fairy tale houses Charisma had drawn up on white paper, when she was little. The roof was made from neat slate.
As he opened the door, the pair gasped in shock.
The hallway was a complete set of wooden panels. Above which, an ornate styled rosette wallpaper, and above which, a large hanging crystal chandelier.
"Wow, I take that back." Charisma retorted.
Her father opened one of the side doors, which lead to a reception room/lounge area, perfect for the chaise longue, if it made it he thought. At the end of the corridor, stood a curved English style Wimbledon white Georgian window, complete with a small patio directly outside. Leading down a few steps a small grassy area, surrounded by a walled enclosure, inclusive with ivy growing on the walls.
To the left, was a large oak kitchen, complete with stove, not a modern cooker.
"You are like so going to have to show me how that works." Charisma said, heading up the staircase, and up onto a landing area. Her father smiled.
"So you like it then?" He joked, following her lead.
She headed into the front room, which stood a marble panelled bathroom, and that was where the central window came in. To the South, was a medium sized bedroom, with views across the green area.
"Max. This place is gorgeous." She answered him back. "I take back what I said before-this place isn't a mansion, it's incomprehendable. Just think when we get out furniture in here how nice it will be." She headed on into the front bedroom. "Can this be mine?" He walked over to her, kissing he on the forehead, he answered her.
"Of course."
She squealed in utter delight, already placing her furniture, she decided on the rocking chair, being put in front of the lattice style window, with a desk.
"Daddy." She said. "Can I have a laptop?"
Her father loosened his grin.
"Charisma dear, you know I haven't got that kind of money-that was the whole idea of coming out here. I tell you what-I can buy you."
She smiled, like a child. "I can buy you a typewriter-so you don't fall behind in you're school work."
Her smile, a little dismayed, continued as she followed into the enormous backroom.
"My bedroom." He said pedantically, with a business type grin.
He followed on into the North room.
"A library perhaps-for all those books." He said looking at a complete wall with mahogany bookcases.
"Sure." Charisma said, walking down the staircase, even more distraught at the idea of a typewriter. Now she was going to have to stick in at school, just to use the laptops.
It was going to be a fresh start for the both of them.
Maxwell Paisley had moved due to job prospects. His pay in Los Angeles was pretty dismal, to what it could be in Boston. His salary was only thirty thousand, where as in Massachusetts, the company estimated, it could be anything between 27,000, and 35,000. Not a vast increase, but that extra few thousand was what he needed to keep Charisma in school.
His wife, Charisma's step mom, had moved out a year back, so the family income was sharply reduced. Wendy being a college professor at Charisma's old school was about eighty thousand per annum, so without that, they couldn't keep the swimming pool lifestyle going. That's when they decided to move to Boston.
Last Semester Max had been offered a new job in East Boston. The branch had just expanded, and they needed new recruits. It seemed a good start for both him and his daughter Charisma who had just dropped out of college, just before the year end examinations. Her step mom working at college and her dating one of the other professors's her music teacher, just seemed too much for her to cope with.
Max decided they were to move. Wendy just didn't want anything to do with any of them. Max got full custody, after a lengthy court battle, just to keep Charisma from the authorities. And that was that, his salary used up, he used most of his life savings, and half the house's financial worth, too move home.
Charisma, downstairs, called up to her father, that she was going out for a walk, to visit the local area, the little village of Vale, that they had just moved into.
Maxwell came down the stairs, picking up the phone. Flicking through the Yellow Pages, he found the school's address, and phone number, and began to dial to hopefully find a place at school for his daughter. It was one week into the first school term, so he just crossed his fingers and hoped-for a spare place, a dropout perhaps.
"Yes, this is Felicity High. How may I be of service?" A sharp sounding lady came through the receiver.
"My name is Maxwell Paisley, I and my daughter have just moved to the area and were querying as to any available places at your college."
"Mr. Paisley-ah yes. You're the new family that moved into Vale. You phoned last week." She commented, skipping through a few pages she found the notes. "Ah yes, you're from Los Angeles."
"Yes that is correct Miss."
"Well for security reasons could I please have you're date of birth, and the name of you're previous town."
"My date of birth is the 6th of October, 1966. I used to live in Malibu Beach."
"The information you have given me seems correct. I will put you through to the head-and she can give you further details."
There was a slight pause, and then the receiver beeped.
"The money on your phone is nearly out of order-you're call has twenty cents left."
The receiver picked up, and he raced to talk.
"Hello Mr. Paisley."
"Yes." He shot out.
"This is a little call to you; just to say you're daughter has been accepted into our college. She can start promptly like the rest of school tomorrow morning at nine am. There will be a short informal tour of the school, and then a short coffee break, before she moves onto her lessons in the afternoon.
"Now let me get this correct-you're daughter has chosen to take Music, Mathematical Studies, English Literature and,"
"Cheerleading."
"Yes that too. We have designated a timetable for her and will"
Beep you have five cents credit.
"Pardon?" The headmistress asked confused at the strange remark.
"Nothing, please continue!" He almost yelled down the phone.
"Well yes we will give it to her on her arrival tomorrow, then she will be given a uniform to wear, we just presume she will be in smart dress for tomorrow's introduction."
"We'll be there." He slammed down the phone before the silly computerized voice said "You are out of credit." And he sat back, against the wall, with his head in his palms, and he sighed.
Charisma closed the door behind her gently; the stained glass in the frame looked fragile. Crossing the small road, this was tiny in comparison to the ten laned two Decker highways in Malibu, she thought. She came onto the small path, leading to a small wooden pavilion, where in summer she guessed an orchestra could play melodies, and to that thought, she broke a shallow smile.
She guessed this place, was alright after all. Although she didn't have a swimming pool in her back yard, she could always sacrifice that for long steamy bubble baths in the marble bathroom. With hot chocolate on the side, she thought feeling cosy, inside her swade brown jacket.
The rain was coming down, in small cylindrical spots now, and was dribbling down the roof, and onto the sodden grass.
She sat down onto one of the dry wooden benches, looked around at the various shaped townhouses, smiling. There was one across the other side of the green, that was almost identical to theirs, bar they had they're chimney pot, on the south side of the house, where as Charisma's pot was on the North side of the house.
She understood why her father was poor, it was because that "bitch" Wendy had robbed him dry, behind his back, and for that she felt awful. She knew for a week before hand. Wendy coming into the classrooms, flaunting herself at Mr. Hack, then coming home and sleeping with Max. She should have known something was going on. I mean, it was obvious, there were rumours around school for weeks, but she had put that down to malicious title tattle at home. In the end, when Max came into school for parents evening, finding his daughter's report unsatisfactory from Maths, he was curious to why.
Then he realised when he found them, smooching in the corner of the maths class-like a couple of school kids. Charismas in the background, watching the scene unfold.
Hack walked up to Max, with a wide grin, his small shaved beard bobbing up and down. She would never forget Max's eyes, full of hatred and deceit. In the end it wasn't Hack, who got flawed to the ground, it was Max, when Wendy walked up to him, and handed him the divorce papers-just like that. It was a setup-one with which Charisma would never ever forget.
"Charisma."
She bolted out the seat.
Panting, she looked into Max's eyes.
"You've been accepted into college, congratulations."
She smiled, in return, and hugged him. Her face telling another storyline-when he couldn't see it.
Her face reading.
Sorrow.