Industry (Part 1) - Completed

Isabella had gotten really good at packing. She was too paranoid to leave any of her or Alice’s things unattended while they were at school or work. As a result, she had perfected the art of fitting everything they owned into one school bag, one diaper bag, one travel bag, and the undercarriage of the stroller.

People noticed her limited wardrobe. But as long as they didn’t think she was unfit to take care of her baby sister, she didn’t care. Alice was constantly growing, outpacing the handful of outfits Isabella could carry.

That was why she came to the thrift store.

On the outskirts of town, the locally owned shop had a trailer out back where they tossed anything too broken, stained, or torn to sell. A large sign with FREE painted in bright red letters hung on the side.

That’s where Isabella found new clothes for Alice. It had been almost fun at first, hunting for something usable among the rejects. Alice had been underweight when Isabella first got custody of her, swimming in 3-6 month clothes at eight months old. Now, at ten months, she was already in 12-18 month sizes.

And that trailer is where she met Martin Ray Housley.

The first time he approached her, it was casual. A warm smile, easy conversation.

"That your little one?" he asked, nodding toward Alice as Isabella sorted through a pile of onesies.

"My sister," Isabella corrected, glancing at him warily.

Martin raised his eyebrows, impressed. "That’s a lot of responsibility for someone your age."

"I can handle it," Isabella said quickly, bristling.

"Oh, I don’t doubt it," he said smoothly. "You seem mature. More put together than most girls around here."

His voice was warm, his words careful, laced with admiration. Isabella wasn’t sure why, but she found herself relaxing.

After that, she started seeing him more often. Apparently, he volunteered at the thrift store several times a month.

"You wouldn’t believe what came in today," Martin said one afternoon, grinning as he gestured her toward the counter inside the store. He reached under it and pulled out a tiny pink jacket, barely worn. "Thought of Alice as soon as I saw it."

Isabella ran her fingers over the fabric. It was soft. Too nice.

"How much?" she asked.

"Ah, don’t worry about it," Martin said with a dismissive wave. "Consider it a gift."

She hesitated. "I can’t take charity."

He chuckled. "It’s not charity. It’s just—what kind of man would I be if I saw a hardworking young woman struggling and didn’t help?"

She still refused.

But It didn’t stop there.

"That stroller of yours looks like a nightmare to lug around," he remarked another day, watching as she wrestled to fold it up. "I know a guy selling one that collapses into a car seat. Practically brand new."

Isabella shook her head before he could even offer. "We’re fine."

Martin just smiled knowingly. "Sure. But you let me know if you change your mind."

She never did. But it was getting harder to say no.

And every time he spoke, every time he called her mature or praised her for doing her best, Isabella felt something stir inside her—flattery, or maybe relief at being seen.

Martin owned several local restaurants. He’d mentioned it casually, like it was nothing.

"If you ever need a job, I could set something up for you," he said one evening as she bundled Alice into her too-small coat. "And if you need someone to watch the little one while you work, I’ve got connections for that too."

It all seemed too good to be true.