Prodigal Daughter
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 2
The rest of the day was a nightmare. The room at the bed-and-breakfast was tiny—but that wasn’t the worst of it. Elise couldn’t stop replaying the horrible accident in her mind, along with everything that had led up to it. It made her want to scream, like a bad actress being chased by a killer in a B-movie horror flick.
“Sorry about the room. It’s high season, and this was the only one available. At least it’s cheap,” said Laura Wittmore, the owner of the bed-and-breakfast.
Laura was kind and easygoing. She had even walked with Elise to the mall and helped her land a waitress job, apparently knowing the guy who ran one of the fast-food joints—Speedy Snacks.
The next day, Elise’s phone woke her up at seven AM. She needed way too much coffee to stay awake for her shift, but the job was fine—nothing she couldn’t handle. She quickly discovered that smiling earned her better tips. Two of the other waitresses were at least ten years younger than her.
At least three guys tried to get her number that day, but she brushed them off. Their intentions were obvious, and while she was tempted, she was determined to stay out of trouble.
By the end of the day, her feet were killing her. She withdrew some money from the ATM to buy more appropriate clothes for work, some basic lingerie, and a pair of flats.
She was running out of money.
Later, her parole officer called to check in. She gave him her updates, and he informed her that she’d start community service next Saturday at four PM and gave her the address.
The rest of the week was a blur—learning how to grocery shop and cook for herself. Thankfully, Laura let her use the kitchen and even gave her a few cooking tips. Elise couldn’t afford takeout every day, and greasy mall food wasn’t doing her hips any favors.
By the time Saturday came, she was exhausted. She never thought waitressing could be so hard. Instead of calling an Uber, she decided to walk to her father’s house. It was a long walk, but at least she’d had the good sense to wear flats.
The house was easy to recognize. A new picket fence—still unpainted—surrounded the front yard, which was mostly destroyed.
Standing at the front door, Elise felt nerves ripple through her. Her father lived here, with his new family. The last time they met, he’d been full of anger and resentment, wanting nothing to do with her.
She rang the bell and waited, heart pounding.
A few moments later, her father opened the door.
Elise’s heart jumped. “Dad ... I mean, Mr. Olson. My parole officer said you were expecting me.”
Paul nodded. “I know why you’re here,” he said, eyeing her up and down with a look of disgust. A young girl stood beside him, looking at Elise with curiosity.
The past flooded Paul’s mind. He remembered the day Elise chose her cheating mother’s new husband over him. She had discarded him, just like his slut ex-wife had. Paul couldn’t compete financially with Doctor Dick, the wealthy surgeon, who offered Elise a life of luxury.
He pushed the thoughts aside. His daughter had become exactly what he’d predicted—vain, shallow, and obsessed with material things. He still cared for her, but he wasn’t about to let his guard down again. Tough love was what she needed. He wouldn’t let Elise rip his heart out of his chest a second time.
Paul had moved to Middletown and married Mary. He had two daughters who adored him—Maggie and Sabrina. He was happier than he’d ever been during his first marriage.
“Wow! You look like a model!” the girl exclaimed, sniffing the air. “I’m Maggie. Is that Chanel No. 5 you’re wearing?”
“Thank you. I’m Elise,” she replied, smiling at the girl. “Actually, it’s Roja Parfums.”
She always kept a bottle in her purse. It saddened her to realize this would be her last one.
“It smells nice,” Maggie said, sniffing her wrists.
Elise smiled. “I hope so. It costs 3,500 dollars a bottle. Want me to spray some on you?”
Maggie looked at her father, and when he nodded, Elise crouched down and gently sprayed the perfume behind the girl’s ears and on her wrists. The floral scent filled the air.
Maggie beamed. “Wow! Look, Daddy, I smell like a princess now!”
Paul ruffled her hair, smiling briefly, then clapped his hands. “All right, Maggie. The lady is here to work. She’s going to help us with the garden.”
Elise took a deep breath, her rehearsed apology ready. “Dad ... I mean, Mr. Olson—”
“Paul is fine,” he cut in.
“Okay, Paul. I’m deeply sorry and embarrassed for knocking down your fence. I know you worked hard to get it built, only for me to wreck it. I offer no excuse. I was drunk and lost control of my car.”
She’d looked up how to apologize on her phone and memorized the words, hoping to get back on her father’s good side.
“The house insurance covered it,” Paul said, briskly. “I’m doing the repairs myself, and I’m using part of the money to buy new flowers.”
Elise glanced at his hands—scarred, calloused. A working man’s hands.
“You must hate me.”
“Hate you? No. Hating you would mean I still think about you. When your mother betrayed me in the worst possible way, and you turned your back on me, the only way I could survive was to erase both of you from my heart and mind. I started over in a new town. I was lucky—I found a woman and two daughters who love me for who I am, not for my money or what I can give them,” Paul said, smiling at his wife, who was watching through the kitchen window.
“Then why are you helping me?”
“Despite what you and your slut-of-a-mother think, I’m a good person. If I see someone in need and I can do something about it, I do.”
“That’s all I am to you? Someone in need?”
“Have you been anything else these past years? The last time I saw you, you wanted me to lie for you, to pretend to be something I wasn’t. And when you didn’t get your way, you lashed out.”
Elise lowered her head in shame and instinctively touched the cheek where Sabrina, Paul’s older daughter, had slapped her.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For everything. I was young, stupid, and I had the worst role model—a mother who filled my head with bullshit.”
Paul nodded. “We all have to live with the wrong choices we make. If we learn from our mistakes, we can make better decisions in the future. Enough talk. You’re here to work.”
Elise wiped her eyes, cleared her throat, and asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“You’re going to help us replant the flower beds your car destroyed,” Paul said. “Be ready to get your hands dirty.”
“I suppose ... I mean, yes. Of course.” Elise glanced at the yard and fought the urge to cry. Her fingernails were going to get ruined, but she was ready for the challenge.
“Your clothes aren’t suitable for gardening. Go inside and ask my wife to lend you something more appropriate.”
At that moment, Mary appeared and kissed Elise on the cheek. “Hi, Elise. I’m Mary, Paul’s wife. Thanks for helping us.”
“They didn’t give me much of a choice,” Elise muttered, under her breath.
Mary pretended not to hear. “Follow me,” she said, warmly.
She led Elise upstairs to the master bedroom and sifted through her closet, searching for anything that might fit. Elise couldn’t help but think her lingerie probably cost more than Mary’s entire wardrobe.
Noticing Elise’s gaze, Mary commented, “Your dress is gorgeous. It must have cost a fortune. It’d be a shame to ruin it. Before I married Paul, there were times Sabrina and I had nothing but the clothes on our backs.”
“Sabrina is your older daughter, right?” Elise asked, remembering the teen who had slapped her in defense of her father years ago.
“Yes,” Mary said. “She’s at the lake with friends right now. When summer ends, she’s heading to college to study veterinary medicine.” Mary handed Elise a set of clothes.
“She’s not Paul’s daughter, though,” Elise said.
Mary’s face turned serious. “Don’t let my husband hear you say that, or you’ll be out of here before you know what hit you,” she warned. “He adopted Sabrina and loves her dearly. Sabrina IS his daughter.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Elise mumbled.
“I hope not. Look, we all make mistakes. Mine was sleeping with a boy who got me pregnant, couldn’t hold a regular job and drank a lot. Sabrina and I were lucky to find Paul. He’s an amazing man, husband, and father—and a respected pillar of this community.”
Elise looked down at the faded jeans and sweatshirt Mary had handed her and sighed.
“I’m sure this isn’t the kind of thing you’re used to wearing,” Mary said, gently touching her arm. “But at least it’s clean. I’ll leave you to change. Come down when you’re ready.”
“It’s fine. Thank you,” Elise said, quietly.
“If my friends could see me now, dressed like this ... What would they think?” she wondered. “Friends, ha!”
It was a generous word for them. None of her so-called friends had offered to help her in her time of need. There had never been any real bond—no affection, no loyalty. Just shallow, empty relationships and appearances.
Elise changed and headed outside. Paul and Maggie were already working in the front yard.
Paul handed her a pair of gardening gloves. “We need to clear the area before we start planting,” he explained.
They grabbed shovels and rakes and began working to level the ground that Elise’s car had damaged. Their goal was to prepare it for the new flowers.
It took a couple of hours to remove all the dead plants, pull weeds, and clear out the wood splinters and metal scraps. Once the area was clean, they started shaping the flower beds.
“Dad and I went to the greenhouse to pick out the plants,” Maggie told Elise. “I love flowers, but I love fantasy books even more. Have you read The Werewolf Vigilante Saga?”
“I love flowers, too, Maggie. But no, I haven’t read it. I’m not much of a reader,” Elise admitted.
“Oh, you should! It’s amazing,” Maggie exclaimed.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.