Misplaced trust sarah elizabeth epub bud
He wants her to work at his company for a year to be worthy of her inheritance. Only daddy dear is never there and clearly has no interest in her whatsoever and she has zero interest in him or his company. The relationship made no sense. Day 1 at work she is befriended by Sean Roberts and goes to a party at his house. After that he randomly turns up at her house for a swim. All of his friends have the same raven tattoo. They race cars. His friend, moody Dominic King with a French accent although we later find out he was born in America works at a garage pimping the rides and doing some geeky computer stuff.
Sean left Horner industries to work at the garage to cover for Dom but then goes back and is a supervisor. No one will tell Cecelia the secret either. Is it some Robin Hood kind of thing? Is it vengeance against a particular person? Is it a drug dealing thing? Why does Cecelia throw a wobbler and start crying when a song is played?
Why does she turn hot and cold? Why does she even like Sean and Dominic? Why do they like her? Does she like her mum? Does Roman have house elves that clean and cook but are never seen? Now it is home to corrupt capitalists, foreign ambassadors and their lonely wives—and a small group of enterprising strangers rocking into port on the Dutch cargo ship, Medea: a well-meaning pair of Americans claiming to bring vegetarianism to the natives; a former jungle fighter in World War II Burma and current confidence man; and an English hotelier returning home to the Trianon, an unsalable shell of an establishment on the hills above the capital.
Each is embroiled in a charade. I am innocent. Do you believe me? The world will finally know the truth. But whose? A skill that became vital in my position.
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The bot kept moving away from him. When Chica walked up a set of stairs on the other side of the fountain, Gregory tried to go into the store closest. Unfortunately, a grate pulled across it, barring him entry until he could find a way to unlock it. Maybe there were doors on the second floor? Where was Chica? Gregory looked around, but she neither wandered the floor nor on the stairs. Although most of the cameras were inside the shops, a couple viewed the floor above him and his floor.
Chica meandered from the left stairs to the right and stopped, staring listlessly at the double doors leading to the Superstar Daycare. The thought caused a flicker of excitement to spark inside of him. If Freddy was nice despite all the other animatronics being evil, then Sun and Moon would definitely be good! Chica started to go down the stairs right in front of him.
The boy darted to the other set of stairs and made his way up, throwing a sharp glance back at her on occasion. But she just kept moving down, not once giving any indication she saw or heard him. With her now downstairs, he snuck past her and to the upper doors of the store. They really like their lightning, huh? Navy blue carpet and deep pink walls probably made the background of the store. The racks of shirts, displays of toys, two large basins of basketballs, shelves and displays of cups, helmets, and pretty much any bobble he could think of and more cluttered the area as well as the arrangement of pink and yellow neon lights that only hallowed some objects and turned others to darkness by sheer contrast.
Who designed this place? He could barely walk in here, much less focus on any one thing. The exit, thankfully, came into his vision and he immediately ran into the deep blue walkway. A poster with a sun person holding a piece of candy decorated the moody hall. Further in after a bend sloping down were other posters of animatronics and a neon paw and star, but he paid them no heed and eventually found himself in the bottom section of the store.
Gregory perked up and approached the little present under the sign. He grasped the little handle and cranked it like one of those Jack-in-a-Box toys. The box opened with a congratulatory cry and confetti. His fluttery interest flattened. Hippo fridge magnet? I am truly sorry. With a press of a button on the wall, the gate opened. When he peeked his head out, he found Chica climbing the opposite stairs.
Once she got up high enough, he darted out into the open, head and shoulders down, and stopped again. His heart fluttered and every muscle in his body was tense, ready to move and let him shoot off in the least dangerous direction on a hair trigger. Once her thumping footsteps dimmed a little further, he climbed up the stairs and, when her back turned to him, he made his way over the small bridge with a glass wall.
What he could see through the window was warm and inviting and way less cluttered with a few tables, chairs, a bar, and a raised section at the end with a few booths. Her heavy footsteps thundered behind him. The ground shook as she got closer. Her call burst into the stairway and clanged through the kitchen in the story just under the floor. The boy jumped up beside the island and shoved the plates. Gregory ran down the next flight of stairs and into a semi-empty space lined with walls of what looked like lockers.
A counter with a ticket machine behind it sat near the stairs. A giant glass window cut through one part of the wall facing the statue while a collapsible gate filled a giant, otherwise empty doorway. A few kiddie strollers clustered near the corner closest.
Gregory jumped into one of the strollers and pulled the hood down over himself. Two orange, three-toed chicken feet stomped past. A flash of green and pink from her ankles flitted past his vision. Hopefully, she would have the same inability to see him. The feet stopped. The feet continued moving at a much slower pace than full-flank-kill-mode. He let out a heavy breath and hopped out of the baby stroller. A large ATM-like machine sat behind the bar.
Was this the upgrade machine at Customer Service? This was Customer Service, right? Welp, only one way to find out. The machine burred as it ate his ticket and… did nothing else. Well, he had heard of magnets messing stuff up. A sign on the wall beside the ticket thing specifically told him not to hold a magnet near the machine. Gregory took out the fridge magnet and set it on the machine. Its screen glitched terribly. It spat out a baby blue ticket with a rainbow connecting clouds.
A sun and half-moon with faces were on either side—the same ones from the posters and plushies. Sun and Moon. Gregory pulled out the Daycare Pass. He put down the sudden twist of excitement in his chest. The entrance is on the second-floor balcony.
That was next to the gift shop. Knowing the path after being dragged through it once before, and then walking through it a few times on his own behest, Gregory snuck back upstairs. This hallway, void of neon lights, stayed dark and the scant regular lights glowed dimly as if the dark ceiling, walls, and floor consumed their light. Stars that glowed just enough to be seen but shed no light on anything else dusted the black ceiling above.
He stepped across shiny tiles with triangles of various shades of white, black, and gray. A long-stepped fountain filled the middle, going from the wall almost down to the doors leading to the Superstar Daycare. A charging station like the one in the utility tunnels sat snuggly against the wall, its lightning bolt logo gently glowing. Did this place change during the day or did it always look so… sleepy?
With the stress of Chica fading significantly the further from her she got, the more the gentle, serene darkness got to him. He knew it was midnight and all, but he had more things to worry about than being tired! Ignoring the soda machines and gently bubbling creak-fountain with palm trees planted on its edge, he found the more festive shutters at the end. They opened and he ducked inside. Gregory squinted his eyes against the sudden change.
He walked into a much smaller room with pale blue walls and dark blue carpet peppered with chairs and tables for adults and children greeted him. Gregory gave an electronic TV trying to sell him night-time candy a hard side-eye. Check the daycare security desk for a security badge, then let me in. More light leaked in from below. Gregory hesitated at the slide. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes.
It had been some time since he was here. Though, it would be Moon to do that, since again it was very late. Speaking of which, it was very late so Moon should be out. Why were the lights on? Gregory shook himself and hopped into the slide. He would just ask Sun when he got down there.
Maybe Moon was tired or something? Or they took turns at night? Or were there humans there who needed light? His heart skipped a beat at that last theory. Unfortunately, the mouth of the curly slide was already out of sight, and he found no purchase on the smooth plastic. The skin of his palms skidded, but his clothes-covered body slipped right through. Light blazed pure and bright as the slide ended and he was thrown into the huge ball pit bordered by a castle-themed half-wall.
Gregory jumped up and looked around. The structures stood tall and grand. Bouncy, squeaky music interlaced with random noises played over the speakers. The very air pressed down on him, oppressive and chilly despite the lukewarmness of… seventy-two degrees. All the employees tended to be weirdly specific with the temperature of the entire building. Gregory had not made it three steps before he heard an excited shout. The motion threw him back, so he balanced on one foot.
He let momentum throw him down onto two feet before he clapped his hands together and dove into the ball pit. Gregory, caution overtaking his previous excitement, moved forward. A pair of large, plastic hands lurched from the depths and grabbed him around his sides, and yanked him up into the air.
What are you doing back here? Are we having a slumber party? Where are your friends? Gregory stared, only seriously perturbed and hiding it through sheer confusion. Who was this guy? Yeah, Sun could be overbearing, but he was happy and peppy. He sounded… anxious. Rules change sometimes! Absolutely positutely! How are you doing? Are you alone? Not necessarily making a quick buck, mind you. Not necessarily taking on the job because he has it in for the sheep. He takes on the job precisely because it is a job.
It puts food on the table. It puts money in the bank. He's looking after the sheep for his sake, and perhaps even for his family's sake, but not for the sake of the sheep. ILLUS: I'd like to switch gears for a moment and have us think about the giant oil companies that so many of us have learned to hate. I'm sure all of you have heard, and maybe even some of you have said, that it's simply obscene -- irresponsible even -- that companies like Exxon Mobil, Shell, and BP, should be making tens of billions of dollars off a commodity -- oil -- that all of us need.
Maybe we don't say it as much now, but we were certainly saying it when gas was over four dollars a gallon. Surely no company should be allowed to make that much money! We say these things, because we've forgotten something very fundamental about these companies. The founders of Exxon, of Mobil, of Citgo, and all the rest, are not drilling, refining, distributing, and selling oil to benefit us. They are not doing it for our sake. They are doing it for the reason every business does what it does.
They're doing it to make money. So long as we understand that, we will find it hard to begrudge them their profits. They're doing what they're doing because it's what they do. Jesus does not have it in for people just doing their jobs, just trying to make a living. He is not suggesting that the one making money and doesn't care about the sheep is somehow evil.
But what he is most definitely saying is that we should not for one moment expect that a hired hand has our best interests at heart. With very few exceptions, most people that start oil companies, retail stores, investment banks, and any other business or service you can think of, are not doing it for you. They are doing it for themselves. No matter what their ads might say.
So why are we so surprised that when the wolf comes, a hired hand heads for the hills and leaves the poor sheep to fend for themselves? Why are we so surprised when a company makes billions of dollars of profits when it has the opportunity to do so? Why are we so surprised that a CEO or chairman of a Board of Directors would lie to protect themselves and their family?
Why are we so surprised when, backed into a corner, even a military leader will start justifying themselves and their actions, even if it means hurting the people who serve under them? Good Shepherd Sunday, celebrated the fourth Sunday of Easter each year, could also be called "misplaced trust" Sunday.
Rather than beating up on the poor hired hand, we should be taking an intense look at ourselves. In whom do we put our trust? Do we really expect that a mere human being, or a corporation, political party, or even a government made up of mere human beings, will take a bullet for us?
Will lose their life savings and livelihood for us?
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