OP-DEC: Operation Deceit

Chapter 1

CLAIRE EYED HER HAIRDO IN THE MIRROR, nitpicking each out-of-place dark bronze hair. Pausing for a moment, she met the reflection of her own gaze. Her bold blue eyes matched those of a mother she held only in memory now. The corners of her mouth pulled slightly in a frown. Her eyes switched back to her hair. She refused to think about her. After all the time that had passed, she learned nothing was to be done on that front and her father might just be right. It was a hard pill to swallow, making her worry she remembered her past like an idyllic dream. Besides, Father sent Mother to Switzerland, convinced the American doctors had done nothing to help her. She lived far away now and Claire knew she wouldn't ever come home.

Claire reached for her brown hat, a trendy little thing she picked up from one of the chic shops of New York City. She put the hat on her head and arranged it just so to salvage her unruly locks. She stepped back, inspected her work and smiled with approval at how well the ivory silk blouse matched with the rest of her outfit. Smoothing her brown A-line skirt, another fine purchase from another fine establishment, her excitement grew. She soon cast off the shadow of her past. It was time to think of the future.

School faded to the annals of time along with her mother. She took a deep, settling breath, leaving the past in the mirror, and faced her room. The small chamber was tiny and tidy. She had never grown very attached to the old four walls, just thankful for the shelter from weather and moods.

A leather suitcase sat at the foot of the bed next to an upturned trunk, scratched and marked with wear from good use. The set was like a pair of old friends. Her aunt had purchased them for her when she came to live in New York. Claire stepped past the trunk, giving it a pat where an old rail sticker distinguished it. She took up the smaller suitcase and went to the door. She opened the barrier to her bare old room and ducked her head out. The hall beyond, as worn and well used as the case she carried, was well lit from the noon sun streaming through the huge windows and doors at either end. Claire scanned both ends. Not a soul wandered in sight. She set the case beside her door and went back into her room, leaving the portal open.

It struck her as odd that she was so alone at this accolade. While everyone else had gone off to celebrate with family, she waited there for the only person left in her world. Claire found her tweed suit jacket and quickly put it on. Light footsteps echoed along the hall beyond as she buttoned the garment.

"Claire!" She heard a young woman's voice call.

Claire saw a bright, freckled face smiling at her from the door. At the young woman's side stood her perfect match, though the other girl appeared more subdued.

"Claire Healey," the young, flaxen-haired woman said with the lyrical tones of the south. "You're going to leave without even a good-bye?" she cried, entering Claire's inner sanctum.

"I do apologize, Margaret. I woke late today and with all the hubbub of everyone getting ready to go, I've been a bit at sea."

Claire acknowledged the other girl. "Hello, Marcy."

Margaret and Marcy were twin sisters and as Southern as they could come, right down to their dappled cheeks and flaxen hair. Their superficial details, however, marked the end of the similarities. The girls occupied opposite ends of the spectrum, Margaret being the melodramatic socialite and Marcy being the gentle and silent recluse. Regardless of such differences, propriety numbered the first and most commonly held value, something to follow to the letter. None of Claire's big-northern-city-ways excused her.

"Well, I won't hear of it. It's not proper. We've been friends this whole time, Claire, and you sneak off without a good-bye. Why, we even went to the same grammar school. I made Daddy move us to this one when you left," Margaret said while her sister predictably held her silence.