Mrs Jellyby Novels & Stories

At the counter, a woman with tired grace and mischief in her eyes rearranged jars of preserves. “Welcome to St. James,” she said. “I’m Ruth. Kitchen’s in prayer over the shrimp. You here to eat or to confess?” “Both,” Mabel said. “She’s here to investigate.” Ruth sized them up with the efficiency of a woman who had watched dreams invest and walk out before dessert. “You must be kin to Mr. du Prée.” “His mother,” Marvella said. Ruth’s smile softened. “Then we’ll put you where you can see everything.”

Chapter 29 He Fancies You. Lyla Atelo. Mrs. Michelle's office was cold when I entered. The AC was at the highest, and I shivered, hugging myself to try and gather some warmth for my body. My eyes darted around the office, admiring her aesthetics and a series of awards that decorated the office wall. It was long before the door opened, and the principal stepped into the office with her usual plastic smile. "Lyla... There you are..." She began sweetly. "For a moment there, I thought you would have left because of my earlier tone."

The man glanced at the office worker, then turned to shuffle back into his classroom. At the end of the corridor leading to the front office, in the last doorway, was Mrs. Jäger. She was Andre's math teacher and the physical opposite of Mr. Cochrane. Where he was short, old, and frail, she stood five-foot-eleven in sensible flats with svelte curves and fit muscles. The proportions of her significant breasts suggested surgical assistance. As he passed, she was watching him with an intensity that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He immediately dropped his eyes. "Ilsa!" Mrs. Phillips scolded quietly, snapping the tall blonde's eyes to her. She nodded to Phillips and stepped inside her

Now someone was at my door, and I had no idea who it could be. I peeked through the peephole. It was Mrs. Jenkins, my neighbor from down the hall. She was old, with white hair pulled into a tight bun, and she was the kind of person who noticed everything. She’d been my friend for years—I’d helped her carry groceries, fixed her leaky faucet once, even sat with her when her cat died. She was sweet, but nosy as hell. I cracked the door halfway, sticking my face out so she couldn’t see inside.

I walked down the corridor, my heels clicking a steady, unyielding rhythm until I reached the double doors of Room 314. Standing right outside the ward, pacing back and forth with a crumpled tissue in her hands, was a middle-aged woman in a faded floral blouse. Mrs. Gable. The neighbor from the phone. She looked older than I remembered, her face lined with years of witnessing things she couldn't change. Her hair had gone completely gray, and she'd gained weight around her middle - the physical manifestation of carrying other people's burdens.

The sun had already set by the time I finished work. Jaime always called this place a remote village. Every minute here felt like torture to her. I thought she would not be able to stand it and would leave. To my surprise, she waited outside my office door. When she saw me, she stood up at once and hurried to my side. “Joseph, you still haven’t told me what happened. Did your mother really die?” I stopped walking and looked at her. A cold laugh escaped me. “My mother died. Isn’t that what you wanted? Your mother’s so‑called killer finally paid the price. Are you satisfied now?”

It's as if Chloe saw him in someone somewhere before. Mrs. Lewelyn was a small woman, very much like Barbie, but more of a delicate and reserved one. Her eyes was like the olive shoot that grew into a gorgeous tree. Very much like Zabdiel's. She was holding a tray on her chest as she guided them at the upper floor of the restaurant. "You didn't have to trouble yourselves!" she exclaimed with a smile as Lucian handed her the box of delicacies Jucel made. "See? We could have stayed at the house," Barbie muttered with a pout as she sat with her one arm hooked at the back of her chair.

"Jocelyn sneered at me and said, 'Little bastard! You don't accept it? This house was originally mine. Your mother took everything that belonged to me. She thought her status was so noble, always acting like a savior, right? Now let's see how generous she can be. “She said, ‘'Everything here will be mine from now on! Whether you accept it or not, that's the reality. Byron is my man, and Hazel Marrow is his daughter! Oh! ... By the way, you don't know yet! Hazel Marrow's real name is Hazelyn Chandler, do you understand?' “Then she laughed arrogantly, 'Everything here is mine. Helen Keller should have died a long time ago. Everything here is mine. Can you see it?'

She looks so much younger when she's nearer than the first day I saw her at CJ's party. She smirks at me. "We need to have a talk. Eye to Eye. Woman to woman." She sits next to me primly and places the bag on top of her lap. "I am Jezebel. Mr. Jeans' second wife. Everything he owns is mine. And when something is mine, I don't let no one take it from me. Absolutely no one. Not even a cheap slut covered in a pretty face and nice hair. That hero act you pulled won't get you a single cent from my family. You're so desperately trying to get that ring so you can snatch away everything I have waited so long to be mine. But sorry honey, I won't let you. "

I paced up and down, left and right continuously but couldn't lay a finger on what is actually happening. "That arrogant brat might come anytime soon, I wouldn't want him to meet me here and continue nagging." I thought. "I have to leave". I turned to leave only to find my stomach rumbling. "I'm so hungry, I wish I could eat a thousand muckleberries." I imagined myself in a pool of muckleberries when I remembered that there was a huge freezer in the house.