Chapter Ten

“Cindy!” Eunice said from the archway between the living room and entryway. “What are you doing in the dark?”

Before looking at her, I wiped my eyes. I assumed my face had swelled red and puffy. It often got that way when I cried. Hopefully, the unlit room hid this from the maid. “What do you want?”

“Rosa wants you to clean the crystal before dinner.”

“Fine. I just need to use the restroom first.” I hurried past her, with my face turned away, and darted through the kitchen to the servants’ hallway. My stomach cramped, my head throbbed from the intense crying, and my eyes burned from the dried salty tears. I was a complete mess, but I still had one more chore for the night. I entered the small bathroom and avoided glancing in the mirror. I didn’t want to know how awful I appeared. Instead, I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face several times, then held a pool of the liquid to my eyes. Slowly, my skin cooled, and my muscles relaxed. Keeping my eyes closed, I fumbled for the towel behind me.

Suddenly, it was in my hand, but someone had placed it there.

I dabbed the scratchy towel to my closed lids and then gazed up. Of course, it would be Henry—always my hero. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, with concern in his voice.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m living the dream,” my voice cracked.

He eyed me for a moment, bobbed his head once, and then sauntered down the hall and out the back door.

I drew in a deep breath and exhaled through my lips. I was ready for a ticket out of this nightmare. It was so bizarre, all of it. Maybe I was insane. I rolled the towel back on its rack and shuffled back to the kitchen.

Rosa glanced up from the dough she rolled and glared with pursed lips.

“I was told to clean some crystal?” I asked.

“If you can handle it, they are waiting for you in the family dining room. I need them to shine really well, understand?”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay? It’s like talking to a wall. Go, get started. When you’re done, you can get yourself something to eat. But we’d rather you ate it in your own quarters tonight.”

I shook my head, completely surprised at her blatantly rude behavior. I had known her as the sweet woman who baked me cookies as a kid. Of course, I was the boss’s daughter then. This must be who she really was—a nasty, insolent old biddy. When I had my position back, she’d be the first to go. Bye, bye, Sweetheart. See ya. Hope you like living on food stamps.

I entered the family dining room and slid into my father’s chair at the head of the eight-person table. Instantly, memories slammed back into my conscience. One night, we had come down for a snack. Dad had tossed a grape at me, and I somehow caught it with my teeth. Dad kept trying to see if he could duplicate the motion. Failure after failure, Mom and I laughed for hours.

In addition, Mom had taught me proper etiquette in this room. “Keep your elbows off the table,” she would say. She then pointed out what the different forks meant. Most nights, when we finished our dinner, we remained at the table for hours, telling jokes and stories about our days. It was in that chair on my left, I announced Andy Scott had asked me to go to homecoming. The day Mom died, we had lunched here—potato cheddar soup and egg salad on homemade croissants—her last meal.

I blinked back the tears and reached for the first goblet. The starburst-cut glass with sculpted stems sparkled under the warm light in the room. Though lovely, I didn’t even remember owning them.

A cloth rested next to a bin of clear liquid. The aroma of vinegar floated up, pungent and apparent. My best guess—dip the cloth in the vinegar and rub it onto the crystal. So, I did, twenty times. I set the final goblet down, pushed back in the chair, and walked to the kitchen with the tray of glasses. My hands reeked of vinegar. I started to cross to the sink when I heard my name. Rosa and Eunice gossiped about me in the pantry, but I couldn’t make out anything else they said. I waited a moment, trying to distinguish their words, but I couldn’t. I gave up, flipped on the faucet, and washed my hands.

A pot of something bubbled on the stove, sending a spicy aroma into the air. I lifted the lid and peeked inside. Chili. Gross. I didn’t really like chili, but my rumbling stomach would tell my taste buds to take a hike and be grateful. I hadn’t eaten all day and needed something. Rosa had left a stack of bowls by the pot. I reached for one and dished out a serving. I had just crumbled some crackers on top, when the two women came back in.

“You’re not eating in here, right?” Rosa asked, eyes narrowed.

“Rosa, why do you hate me so much?”

She rested her crossed arms over her bosoms. “Who says I hate you? We need to clean up in here, that’s all. Now get out so we can do that.”

I plunged a spoon into the chili, tucked a bottle of water under my arm, grabbed my bowl with a napkin, and hurried out. I heard them giggle after I left. Jerks. I’d get them eventually.

The chili tasted okay. Better than any chili I had eaten before. Or it could be an empty stomach skewed the results. Once I had consumed all of it, I decided to take a walk. I felt cooped up and sad. I needed a break. Outside, the brisk breeze nipped at my skin. I rubbed my arms and skipped down the walkway to the driveway.

Someone leaned under the hood, inside the limo’s engine.

“Hey,” I said.

Henry peeked over the engine and smiled. “Hey, yourself.”

“What are you doing?”

He straightened and wiped his hand on a red cloth. “Checking the fluids.”

“Oh,” I said, clearly having no idea what fluids he was talking about. “Well, have fun with that.”

“Will do,” he said, then returned to his former posture.

I hiked around the mansion, across the lawn, to the hedges below. Once there, I ducked behind one and sat on the stone bench where I had shared my last conversation with Dad. Where he scolded me and prepared to blow my life away with his one birthday wish. I sighed and scanned the fragrant garden. I had been here many times but rarely paid attention to its beauty. Emerald-green trees lined all sides of a stone walkway surrounded by colorful snapdragons, zinnias, and begonias. I knew the flowers’ names only because Mom had told me once. She loved anything pretty, and this garden was her baby. Someone had taken care of it over the years. She would have liked that.

A small brook, that emptied into a white, tiered fountain in the center, lapped water. The sound soothed my mind.

A gray robin sporting an orange chest flew over and landed on the tree to my right. It pecked at the trunk, chirping as it did.

Suddenly, colored spotlights flipped on as the last of dusk disappeared.

The bird flew away.

I didn’t mind being in the darkness, away from the crazy. I liked it here, peaceful and calm. Here it didn’t matter if I had money or not. If people liked me or hated me. I closed my eyes and pictured Mom sitting by my side. Just sitting with me, not talking, but relaxing here for hours.

Mom didn’t need to fill space with unnecessary words. “Beauty talked enough,” she would say.

I finally understood that sentiment.

“Are you okay out here all alone?”

Startled, I glanced up to see a portly tan man in his late sixties, wearing overalls, a tool belt, and a floppy hat. “What time is it?” I rubbed my eyes, not realizing I must have fallen asleep.

“After eight p.m.,” he answered.

“Oh wow, yeah, I should probably go.” I stood. “Do I know you?”

The man smiled a crooked smile. “I’m the new gardener, Gus.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Gus. When did you start?”

“Last week. I’m replacing Jorge.”

I nodded, not sure who Jorge was. “Isn’t it a little late to garden?”

“Oh, I am just going around, turning on the sprinklers. California law and all, we have to water the garden at night.”

“Oh, right.” I grinned. “Well, Gus, it was really nice to meet you. I’d better get inside.”

The man bent down to a row of begonias, snipped off a pink one, and handed the stem out.

I reached for the flower and smiled. “Thanks. That’s very sweet of you.”

“Night, Miss.” He tipped his hat and stepped back.

“Good night, Gus,” I said as I passed him.

For the first time, someone had no former opinion of me. He treated me kindly without reservation. It felt nice. I would remember Gus when I returned to my old life. The rest of them might be fired, but Gus could stay.