SAN FRANCISCO

Malicious whispers trailed every step Gloria took as eyes of steel and indignation bore into her flesh.

With her chin raised up in the air, shoulders straight, and a smirk plastered on her face, Gloria made her way to the dress shop.

The bell on the door announced her presence, drawing the attention of the entire store to her as she stepped in. She raised a brow and slowly moved her gaze over the faces of the women in the store who stood frozen in their tracks, glaring at her. Offering them a stiff smile, she turned and faced the shelves.

They glared at her as she shopped, their eyes throwing invisible fiery darts at her back. These women might not agree on a lot of things — she thought, a smile curving her lips — but one thing they seemed to arrive at a consensus on was the fact that their town needed to be purged of sin, and by sin, they meant Gloria Grande.

If only she cared, she thought, the smile on her face broadening as she lifted a purple fabric that caught her fancy from the shelf and began heading toward another shelf on the other end of the store. She noticed as she walked that the store seemed a lot emptier than it was when she walked in. Ah, they couldn't have good old sin rub off on their silky white garments.

She ran her fingers down a red lace fabric, inspecting the intricacy of the gold patterns on it. This was the color of sin; a perfect portrayal of infidelity. It would suit her perfectly.

"What are you doing here?"

Gloria ignored the indignant voice behind her, knowing full well who it was that stood behind her; Bunny, the store owner.

"Your presence in my store is making the few women who have not stormed out yet very uncomfortable," Bunny growled.

"Hello, Bunny." She turned to the blue fabric beside the red and ran her fingers over the soft silk.

"I would prefer if you'd keep your soiled fingers to yourself. Heaven only knows where they have been."

Laughter escaped her lips as she turned to another black fabric. "Do you not mean hell, Bunny? Hell only knows where my hands have been. Certainly, heaven will not stand to view my activities."

"You are not welcome here, you sinful woman!"

Gritting her teeth, she spun around to face the brunette whose cheeks were burning red. "I'll get what I want, and I'll be out of your overly massive, ridiculously ugly skirt in no time, Bunny!" Gloria hissed, anger bubbling in her chest.

Bunny's cheeks burned a brighter red, her hand immediately resting on her rounded waist.

"You are not welcome in my store, and that's that. I don't need your money!"

"Well, Bunny, I would like to see you try to kick me out! If not, I would like to get back to shopping!" Gloria hissed, her gaze perusing the shelves that lined the wall.

Who did these women think they were, anyway?! She gathered her skirt and began moving toward a bright purple dress that caught her attention at the end of the store. If Miss Coleen, the brothel owner, hadn't insisted on the fact that Gloria needed a few new outfits, she would not be here. She was also thankful for her bodyguard, Max, the bulky escort that ensured that Bunny could not kick her out of the doors easily.

Picking the red fabric, she made her way to the counter where Bunny still had a glare squeezing her chubby face.

"How much?" Gloria threw the fabric on the counter.

"Sixty dollars!" Bunny spat.

Gloria quirked a brow in question and ran her gaze down the length of Bunny.

Seeing the look of disdain in Gloria's eyes, Bunny felt the need to explain: "Seeing as you sent half my customers storming out the front door because they could not bear the thought of shopping with a woman of your... profession, I figured you might as well pay for the money I lost along with those customers."

There was no point in arguing with Bunny, Gloria decided, pulling out the stated price and slapping it on the counter. She instead derived satisfaction from the knowledge of the source of the money; it came from the unfaithful husbands of nearly half the women who stormed out. She would not expose the secret of their husbands... yet. But she knew the time would come when she would derive pleasure in letting out the skeletons in every woman's husband's closet, including Bunny's.

"Do have a lovely day, Bunny." She smiled coyly, knowing she would see Bunny's husband before the week runs out, and for payback, she would make him pay twice the money Bunny was making her part with. "And you should think of frowning less often; it makes you appear bloated."

With her package in hand, she made her way out of the store and into the full glare of a wider audience.

*

Stuart clung to the vase that held the remains of his dead wife, his fingers brushing lightly against the carvings of colorful flowers on the vase.

It was nearly impossible to believe Hannah was dead. While they had been separated for many years, a part of him clung to the hope that there was a possibility their marriage could be restored and he would be given yet another chance at love, but death had taken that chance away.

Despite Hannah's many shortcomings, Stuart loved her. Howard, on the other hand, cared nothing for his mother. He saw his mother's failures too many times. They were failures that created emptiness and a deep-seated anger in his heart toward her. Yet, Stuart tried his best to get Howard to see his mother the same way Stuart had seen her — broken.

It was her brokenness that eventually killed her.

With a deep sigh, Stuart admitted to himself that he needed to let her go. This was the place she chose to be laid to rest; a peaceful hilltop in San Francisco. Perhaps it was her way of feeling a semblance of freedom. Stuart understood his wife remained a prisoner until the very second of her death; he understood this very well.

Pulling the lid off of the vase, he stared into it. Not too long ago, these ashes possessed the most beautiful smile. Not too long ago, this was his wife.

"I love you, Hannah," he whispered, a drop of tear falling down his cheek and landing inside the vase. He watched as the tear sank into the ashes. "Goodbye."

He poured the ashes out; the wind carrying it into the distance.

Stuart wrapped his arms around himself and stood there for a while, feeling empty and alone. He could barely convince his legs to take him down the hill, for there was barely anything to return to but a bitter son. Still, he knew they would serve supper in only a few hours, and Howard would come in search of him if he didn't return in time; it was not his wish to endure the rest of the evening listening to Howard's grievances about his tardiness to dinner.

Readjusting his hat on his head, Stuart turned with great difficulty and began his descent down the hill. He strolled the short distance down the buzzing street, his mind still fixed on the ashes he had left behind.

Thud!

Something crashed into him, knocking the air out of his lungs and nearly knocking him off his feet. But a hand reached out suddenly and steadied him.

"I'm sorry," he said, raising his gaze to find the most beautiful pair of green eyes staring back at him. "Forgive me, beautiful lady." He bowed slightly.

The woman who stood before him was a woman of rare beauty. Her fingers were covered in delicate white gloves that went all the way to her elbow. She wore a black gown and a white hat sat comfortably on her head.

She stared at him, her lips agape, her eyes clouding.

"Are you talking to me?" She glanced around before turning to look back at him, eyes wide.

Stuart chuckled a little at the surprised look that shrouded her features, making her appear like a child at Christmas.

"I suppose." He smiled.

"I see." She tapped a finger to her chin. "Then, you must be new to this town." She quirked a brow.

"Hardly. I grew up here, got married here, and only moved to Arkansas when—" He paused, remembering the humiliating event that forced him to move.

"No need!" She waved him off, a beautiful smile immediately claiming her face. "Folks around here value their privacy—"

The words died on her lips as something caught her attention. Reaching out suddenly, she grabbed his wrist. She searched his gaze, and he stared back at her, confused. "Parkinson's," she whispered solemnly; her words momentarily stopping his heart.

How did she know? Certainly it wasn't so obvious! Even Howard had failed to note Stuart's declining health. How was his ailment so obvious to the rest of the world, yet hidden from his son? Perhaps it was because Howard was blinded by his rage.

He stared at her, noting the compassion that clouded them as she stared at his hands. Then, as if realizing that she held his hand captive, she released it and bowed her head.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"We should get going," a voice called from behind her.

It was only then that Stuart noticed the hefty blond man who stood behind her, his eyes darting from left to right every so often. Stuart followed his gaze to find that a small crowd had formed across the street, watching the exchange. Confused, Stuart turned his attention back to the woman before him.

"How did you know what it was?" he asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. He wanted to know who she was; she intrigued him.

"My father, it killed him," she laughed nervously. "I will recognize it anywhere, having spent most of my childhood caring for such a man." She turned slightly to the man who stood behind her. "We should get going, Max." She turned back to Stuart, a smile on her face. "Nice talking to you, sir. It has been a while since I have had a decent conversation with anyone." She made to walk past him.

"Wait!" he called after her retreating back, causing her to pause in her tracks and turn around. "Have dinner with us," he offered, finding it impossible not to. He desired her company.

A smile brightened her features, but disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

She sighed. "I'm afraid I have misled you. You see, I'm the town's worst citizen. Hated by all, loved by none; town's prostitute!" She gestured with her hand and gave a mock curtsey; her announcement shocked him to silence. "Which explains the crowd gathered, tearing you apart with their eyes." She giggled, openly pointing a finger at a group of women who stood across the street, whispering. Seeing her, the women gasped and pressed their hands to their chests. "They are speaking of how shameless you are, soliciting a woman like me in broad daylight." She laughed.

For a second, he allowed her words to sink in, his eyes scanning the crowd that beheld them both in indignation.

Turning back to her, he found the same smile plastered on her face; she was beautiful. She was beautiful in ways he hadn't seen in a while, yet he knew her beauty went beyond her physical features — she was a beautiful woman with a kind heart. He especially knew he wanted to see her again.

"Dinner is at seven tonight," he answered simply.

She quirked a brow. "Are you sure you want the town's prostitute soiling your reputation?" Her eyes sparkled.

"What's your name?" he asked, to remind her that her identity went beyond being the 'the town's prostitute.'

She opened her mouth, but closed it just as quickly. Smiling once more, she said, "Gloria."

Stuart nodded. "Gloria, it will be an honor if you will join me for dinner in the Sullivan mansion about a mile away. Ask around."

She offered a small nod before walking past him.