Mrs Martin Novels & Stories

The woman said in frustration. I'm bowing my head. It's more like bend your back to me. Eve replied to the woman. Then bend, if that's what it is to you. The woman retorted. Immediately the woman finished talking, Helen entered the kitchen and went up to her. "Ms Jane, I've been looking for you." Helen said coming closer to her. "The young master has dismissed one of his maids again, and he asked you to replace her before tomorrow." Helen whispered into her ear.

Though the house was old, it was neat. The girl offered us seats on the sofa and she excused herself. She came back, holding a frail and fragile old lady, dressed in a white cotton dress that pooled around her feet. Her hair was covered with a white headgear and a rosary was on her neck. Her skin was pale and wrinkled. She wore glasses on her small eyes. The girl directed her towards the rocky chair and sat her down before excusing herself from the room. "Good afternoon Miss. Dorcas, I'm Tammy Jones and this is Damon Graves. We were directed to you by Sister Magdalen from St. Mary's orphanage". I paused, my gaze wandering to Damon.

I strode past her “Mrs……, Mr Lancaster is in a meeting……you can't go in there” I ignored her, I didn't care. He was going to pause whatever meeting it was and answer me first. I shoved the door open before she could get to me and immediately, the air in my lungs turned to ice Martin's hands were wrapped around a woman's hair, his lips busily crushing hers. For a second, everything went silent. Then the door slammed against the wall behind me, breaking them apart and making me catch a full glimpse of the lady.

I went up to my room to change, a pair of clothes I'd bought at a thrift store so I could look for a job folded on top of the desk, ready to be put on, I put them on and ran downstairs, feeling more and more hopeful. Bob explained to me on the way about the company his daughter worked for, and this made me very excited. It was a very famous cosmetics company, Make-Pró. It was a new brand, about five years old, but it was highly promising, many bloggers were talking about it, and I had her entire collection of lipsticks in my purse, which was cowardly stolen as soon as we arrived at the house Bob had given us in the Bronx.

"There are robins in the ivy, Mama. Three of them." The door swung inward, and Marta Ellison stepped out into the corridor. She was a woman of about sixty, with thick, silver hair pinned back from her face. She wore a simple canvas apron over her dress, and her hands, scrubbed clean and smelling faintly of lemon verbena, were folded loosely at her waist. "Nora," she said softly, her voice carrying the warm, familiar cadence of the American Midwest. "Marta," I replied, letting out a breath I felt like I had been holding since the airport. No one else in my professional life was permitted to use my first name without a title, but she had earned that right before I was old enough to walk.

They looked at the emotional, shaken Martin with sympathy in their eyes. The voice on the phone continued. "Do you really not know even now? A few days ago, when Mrs. Hughes came in, everyone saw it happen. Mrs. Hughes was crouched on the floor, crying her heart out, all alone. We kept calling you over and over, but you never once picked up.

"Mamá, I'm so sorry, we can't visit this weekend. I promise we'll make it up to you. I have to talk to you later, we have a meeting right now." Then, a woman appeared. She was stunning in a white, off-the-shoulder gown, showcasing a very expensive-looking necklace and matching white heels. Her blonde hair was pulled high in a bun, bright pink lipstick accentuated her thin lips, and her green eyes were striking. She had the physique of a model, with sharp cheekbones. She walked confidently and sat beside the handsome man.Their matching outfits spoke of a couple. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” Mariella greeted her; she responded with a curt nod.

It had taken nothing out of her to purchase it. "Martin King?" She called in her usual authoritative voice. Her son ignored her and faced his secretary. "You can leave," He told her. She bowed slightly and hurried out of the office. She was scared of Madam Scarlett King. Everyone feared the woman. Martin's head rested on the chair he sat on. "What do you want, mother?" He asked the woman with his eyes shut while he rotated his chair. "You know what I want, Martin!" The woman replied with a stern voice. Martin chuckled. He knew she would soon become soft.

I didn’t informed everyone if where I moved. And the word of mouth, I wonder. I’m not even famous here. “White Knights” I just answered, I’m already counted because of his many questions. I’m getting impatient. “Ma’am Maritess! Reserve us food!” He just stopped asking when a loud voice shouted. “Shut up! Isn’t it time for your class? Why are you here” Ate Maritess said. Maritess look jolly and looks like she’s friends will all of her costumers.

Martin, whenever he was not busy. Mrs. Martin came from a rich family. The marriage to Mr. Martin was a parental agreement of their parents. She was a beautiful and delicate woman. She mostly hang out with her elite friends for socialization. The Martin's couples seldom interact to each other at home. Mrs. Martin works in his father's company. There was no love between them not even warmth for each other was absent since Mrs. Martin give birth to their daughter. The thing that was only tying them was their daughter and the company partnership.