Published by Aleatha Romig
Author’s Edition 2012
Copyright © 2012 Aleatha Romig
978-0-9884891-0-3 ISBN Kindle Edition
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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A million thank yous to my prized group of readers! Val, Heather, Sherry, Kelli, and Angie... TRUTH would not have materialized as it did without your help. Your honest comments and opinions along with your time and energy helped me in ways I can never express!
Thank you to the many readers of CONSEQUENCES. It may be because I’m new at this, or because I care, but I have read every review and have seen every rating. It thrills me to learn readers feel as passionate about my characters as I do. Hopefully, the twists and turns of TRUTH will be as enthralling and unexpected as those in CONSEQUENCES.
My very last acknowledgement is to Claire Nichols and Anthony Rawlings... never in my wildest dreams did I expect your story to find its way into the hearts of so many!
Be prepared, their saga will continue with CONVICTED, due out the end of 2013!
But, like rain to the parched ground,
returned to Flint at the turn of the century. GM invested 60 million dollars to upgrade the plant. Over 2,000 hourly workers and 180 salaried workers frequented the building they passed. Honest work for honest pay. This blue collar haven once again bustled with activity.
Then during the latter part of the first decade, the auto industry suffered collapse. Some plants scheduled for closing were
The tax breaks expired. Workers were asked to accept even lower wages. It was inconsequential; the economy couldn’t support the product. Only the bottom line mattered. With no incentive to keep the doors open, men and women in insulated executive offices, miles away, made lofty decisions. The result filled Rich’s view: building upon empty building, decaying skeletons of what once was.
Rich thought about his father’s recent proposal. The prospect of moving back to Iowa felt like defeat. After all, was the banking business better in Iowa than in Michigan? The economy
“I’m just so amazed by this article.”
“What are you reading?”
“Vanity Fair. It’s the cover story from a couple months ago. I forgot I’d left the magazine in here. I just found it.” Rich nodded; he wasn’t interested. “It’s about Anthony Rawlings and his wife. Didn’t your dad go to their wedding?”
“Yes, I think so. It’s one of the perks of being Richard Bosley, the great governor of Iowa. You get to smooze with big donors.”
“I remember him mentioning it. It sounds amazing.” Sarah rambled, “The wedding was at their estate. So that means your dad went to their estate?”
“I guess. I’m honestly not impressed.”
“Why not? It sounds like they’re both involved in charity work. Did you know his wife was a bartender when he met her?”
“The man makes his money harming other people.”
“It doesn’t sound like that. It sounds like an amazing love story. Can you imagine, being an out of work meteorologist, working as a bartender, and falling in love with one of the countries billionaires?”
“Again, where did those billions come from?”
“It says something about the internet.”
“Yes. According to my father that’s where it started. Anthony Rawlings has managed to take that start and feed off of the unfortunate circumstances of others. He’s personally unemployed enough people to fill these factories.”
“He also employs enough people to fill these factories.” Sarah peered at the barren landscape. “I think people are just jealous. I mean, I could be. What woman wouldn’t love to suddenly have Claire Rawlings’ life?”
The sound of their son’s voice refocused the couple’s thoughts. Instead of dwelling on urban decay and the nation’s economy, Rich saw the blond hair of hope in the backseat. “Dad, I need to pee.” Ryan pleaded wide eyed at his dad in the rearview mirror.
“Ryan, we’ll be home in a few minutes. You can wait.”
“No, Dad, I can’t. I gots to pee now!”
Rich’s eyes met his wife’s. Her expression said everything he already knew; this wasn’t the neighborhood to stop. If they could just drive a little further. However, Ryan’s voice whined and his little legs fidgeted with need. “I see a gas station. Stop, pl-ea-se.” The last word elongated into three extended syllables.
Against his better judgment Richard Bosley II, turned the Equinox into a parking space outside of a Speedway. He turned to his wife, “I’ll go in with him. Besides, it’s the middle of the day, and it doesn’t look busy.”