Writing Prompt: Is it intentional.

Morning all. This week appears to be chugging along at a rapid pace. I think it is too much to do in too short a time span. But that is life, right. So Off we go into the morning prompt then. Timers set for fifteen minutes please.

I have no idea what is in the letter. Until she made the phone call I thought it was going to be some sort of blackmail note. Now it appears to have come from a lawyer. Wasn’t expecting that.

Thursday, March 6^th: Is it intentional.

‘Is it intentional,’ she thought looking at the page.  Her name had been left off the guest list.  Was she not being invited to her step-sister’s birthday party or did her step mother think that she didn’t require an invitation?   She read through the list.  She counted the names.  Even her father and Step mother were added to the list.  She set the list down and picked up the page detailing the number of place settings.  The numbers matched. 

‘So not invited,’ Penelope thought.  She nodded to herself.

There was no way she was forgotten.  The head count eliminated the possibility that she was expected without being sent an invitation.

The omission no longer stung.  At this point Penelope almost expected it.  ‘The bright side is I won’t be stuck with Trinity’s friends for the evening.’ The down side was of course missing a meal at the restaurant.  It won awards and talk of the restaurant was on everyone’s lips.  It would have been nice to eat there and try he food for herself, perhaps even see the grand banqueting room she knw her step-mother reserved.

‘But I wouldn’t have gotten to enjoy the food anyway,’ she thought.  Any event with the steps tied her stomach into knots.  ‘Probably not the best way to enjoy a gourmet meal.’

She accepted the snub and wondered how it would be conveyed.  While Trinity might enjoy having her show up and be turned away from the door, her step-mother still maintained the blended family approach in public and wouldn’t want to show the active split.

‘So she will probably pull me to the side and say something,’ Penelope thought.  She shrugged.  She set the papers to the side and picked up the pen she had actually come into the room to get.  She needed to make a call and suspected that she would need to at least jot a note or address down while she did it.  Having no pen, she went to the most likely place to secure one.

Pen in hand, Penelope left the room.  She didn’t want to be accused of snooping.  She also didn’t want anyone to overhear her conversation.  Pen in hand she made a quick detour to look out the window.  The cars were gone.  She was alone in the house. 

‘Perfect time to call,’ she thought.  Still Penelope retreated to her room, closing and locking the door before sitting down on the bed.  Laid out in front of her was the pen she recently picked up, a notebook for any notes, her cell phone and the mysterious letter that was prompting the call.  She unfolded the letter and scanned down to the contact number.  Before she could worry about it, she dialed.

“Carmichael, Alvis and Michaelson,’ the receptionist who answered said after picking up.  “How may I direct your call?”

“Johnathan Alvis please,” Penelope said.

“May I say who is calling please.”

“Penelope Douglas.”

“One moment please.”

There was a click and hold music played.  Penelope tried not to twitch.