Chapter Fifteen

Later that evening, Henry invited me to dinner.

I had no desire to see his face, because right now, it made me angry. How could I have let my guard down? Everyone sought something from my father. Now I knew, even Henry could not be trusted. So, I declined his invitation, claiming I had heat exhaustion and just needed to rest and drink lots of water. Luckily, he bought it and let me be.

Once I heard his car roll out of the driveway, I tiptoed into the kitchen and ate another plate of Rosa’s Mexican surprise. The family, or should I say, my family, had decided to go away for the weekend and took Eunice along. Rosa, and most of the other staff, lived in their own homes, so the mansion was vacant except for one—me. I roamed from room to room, petting the furniture as I walked through. The large foyer, the formal dining room, the living room, the library, but I halted just outside Dad’s study. As a child, I stayed in this doorframe until he beckoned me in. When famous or important people sat in the high-back leather chairs, he did not beckon, which became my cue to go on my way. But most of the time, he greeted me with his wonderful smile, and I would run to climb into his lap.

Unexpected tears pooled in my eyes. I sniffed and swiped them away with my sleeve and shuffled forward. I crossed the threshold for the first time in years, and for a moment, guilt weighed on me. When my dad wasn’t here, this space had always been off-limits. Probably because at age two, I sat quietly in the middle of his office, ripping pages from a first-edition book. I don’t even remember the book’s title, but I recall the stern warning about entering his study alone ever again.

I pushed the feeling of guilt away and toured the room. I reached out and grazed the bookshelf packed with old, gold-lettered reference books and modern-day biographies. The center sill boasted an Oscar and Golden Globe for Dad’s production of his movie, Thunder Apocalypse. I touched the base of the tall, gold man. Shamefully, I never saw Dad get the award. When I found out that he invited Meredith, instead of me, to share his big moment, I spent that night drowning my sorrows at the bar.

I turned away to a large cherry desk positioned in the middle of the room. I dragged a finger across the side and landed at a picture of Meredith smiling. I stuck my tongue out and folded the frame onto her face.

Fancy pens and a gold letter opener lined up with a laptop and desk calendar. On the other end, I thumbed through a stack of screenplays that waited to be accepted or rejected. In front of the desk were two leather armchairs, separated by a coffee table. I dropped down into one and breathed deep in Dad’s smell—spicy cologne and spearmint gum.

A memory filtered through my mind of Dad sitting in this chair next to a famous actor, who I had a huge crush on at the time. I peeked in, hoping I would get the green light to enter. Dad clearly pretended not to see me, which should have been the clue to leave, but I remained steady, waiting and hoping for an introduction.

After about ten minutes, the actor started to leave. He spotted me and smiled.

Of course, I was eleven, and he was like eighteen, so the smile on his part was innocent—but for me, it was everything. I grinned at the memory and got ready to leave.

In the hall, I shut the door, then sauntered to the stairs and stopped. I glanced from the bottom to the top—the forbidden climb to the second floor. Eunice served this area, not me. Technically, I had no right to be up there. Well, according to everyone but me. Of course, I had a right to be anywhere in this house, not that any of them realized it. The last time I showed on the second floor, Meredith about had my head. I took a deep breath and made the climb.

A high glass railing stretched along one side of the hall, making it possible to see the house below without falling. The other side displayed movie posters from Dad’s various film projects. A single painting hung in the middle of them. Mom insisted that not everything be about Dad’s work. She had purchased her favorite artist, Leonid Afremov. The bright and colorful painting of streetlights mixed with trees looked out of place among the Hollywood posters, but it made sense for anyone who knew her. It surprised me, that despite Meredith’s presence, the painting still remained. Maybe Dad had the same idea and taste as Mom. Or maybe he couldn’t bear to take it down. In this reality, Dad might not remember a daughter, but he still had a first wife.

Most likely, Meredith had no idea of the painting’s significance.

No matter the reason, I was glad to see it still hung there and at least one thing had not changed. I peeked inside my once bedroom, now a converted to a game room. Though altered, it felt right and comfortable to be here. I crept in, closed the door, and tiptoed to the window. Bulky white shutters had replaced my flowy chiffon curtains. I pulled the string to draw them open and peered to the driveway below.

From this vantage point, everything appeared to be as it had been before Dad’s birthday wish. Many times, over the years, I perched in this window, waiting for his car to return from his latest trip. Right here, it all seemed the same. Intending to linger in that moment for a while longer, I turned my gaze to the room and found a beanbag. I positioned it at the window and plopped down. The air shot out and made a funny sound. I smiled, then stared out at the driveway, remaining for a while, pretending everything had returned to normal. My imagination soared, and I encouraged it.

I fantasized Mom saying from the doorway. “Hey, girl, what are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, just sitting here in the window, waiting for my Prince Charming to come and rescue me from this crazy existence,” I responded.

Her ghostly image joined me in a phantom beanbag chair. She touched my hand and grinned a reassuring smile. “Someday, dear.”

“I’m just so tired of being alone, Mom.”

“Aw, my beautiful daughter. I promise, you won’t always be alone.”

“Are you sure? Because it sure feels that way since you left.” Tears flowed down my cheeks. My chest heaved as I released years of pain. I refused to stop the grief this time. It needed to get out. I envisioned my mother pulling me into her arms, stroking my hair, and whispering things like, “It will be okay, Sweetheart. I promise.”

“I love you, Mom. But I don’t know if it’ll ever be okay.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

I pulled back and stared at the ghostly image. “Because I’ve been so bad and have basically destroyed everything.”

She nodded with pinched lips, then her smile returned. “Nothing is permanent, Cindy. Sure, you made some mistakes along the way, but nothing is so messed up that it can’t be fixed.” Her finger tipped the bottom of my chin. “There is still time to change, my darling daughter. To make everything right.”

“I don’t know, Mom. I’m not the girl you left behind. I’m a monster. I’ve become evil, and darkness invaded my soul. You have no idea what I’ve done. If you did, then you’d totally get my concern. I’m afraid I can’t be good. And if I can’t be good—” I sucked in a deep breath against the knot forming in my throat. “What if I get stuck here? In this life? Forever. A maid.” I sobbed, hard.

She reached out her invisible arm and wrapped it around my shoulders. “Then you’ll make the best of this life—that really is the key, you know. I wish you could see that life isn’t about stuff. It’s about love. It’s about people. Stop torturing yourself and everyone around you. Drop the bitterness and find joy.”

There it was again, that word joy. I cried, unsure. “I’m just so angry, like all the time.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be,” I admitted.

“I know that, too,” she said. “I love you, and I am proud of you.”

“Proud of me. No, Mom, you could never be proud of me. This is something I am pretty sure of. I haven’t been the daughter you raised. If you were to really show up outside my imagination, I’d be ashamed.” I sniffed. “Didn’t you hear me? I’ve been awful.”

Her indistinct hand touched my cheek. “You’re not dead yet. There is time to change that. To find a way for me to be proud of you.”

“I want to.”

“Then do it.”

“I’m not sure I know how.”

“Sure, you do. It’s there, inside you, the sweet girl in front of the mirror. You just need to find her again.”

I choked on my tears, then grinned and nodded. “For you, I’ll try.”

“No, Cindy. Do it for yourself first.”

The sound of tires crackled below, and Mom’s presence faded away.

I wiped my face with my elbow and glanced out to see Dad’s luxury car was now parked out front. Oh no, they came back early. I should run back downstairs so I don’t get caught on the second floor, but I had to see him first. I could bolt the minute Dad got out of the car.

First, Meredith stepped out, and then her girls.

And finally, my father exited. He grinned at them.

The smile I counted on, the one I missed so much. This was the first time I had seen him since our birthday party. He looked good and rested.

He started to walk around the car, but then stopped to answer his cell phone. He held a finger up to Meredith, indicating he’d be just a moment.

I watched him as he lingered at the car, talking animatedly, likely bartering some deal.

The keys jingled below, and then the front door opened. Oh no! I had forgotten to run. Nothing blocked my path between here and the servants’ quarters. If I left this room, they would see me.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Panicked, I leapt for the closet. The built-in drawers and racks made it impossible to really hide, but then I remembered a secret cupboard in the middle island. I used to hide things in there. I inched my finger below the wood until I hit the nail. It released it and glided the access to the side. Once open, I crawled in and slid the door back. It was a tight squeeze and smelled of pine and dust. Not to mention, little air flow made it stuffy, and I had to stay in the fetal position. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing in an effort to block out the discomfort and claustrophobia.

The two other rooms sandwiched mine, so escaping would not be easy. Within seconds, pop music blared from the girls’ room next door. It occurred to me, despite my non-existence in this new reality, neither of the sisters had claimed this room. There were also several guest rooms downstairs. Curious. Why would they want to share a room when they could have their own room?

Low tones of Meredith and Dad conversing on the other side of the wall filtered through now and then. At some point, I fell asleep. When I opened my eyes again, the house had calmed to silent. I shoved the cabinet door aside and scrambled out. My muscles locked, and for a moment, my wobbly legs struggled to stand. I shook them, then tiptoed to the door. It stood ajar. Someone had come in here for some reason. I listened for a moment before slipping out. As it settled for the night, the mansion moaned and creaked. Each noise and tick made me jump. I crept to the stairway and touched my foot against the first step. It squeaked in complaint. I closed my eyes and inhaled deep. I started to take another step when I heard, “What are you doing up here?”

My heart leapt out of my chest. I glanced back to see the short and round outline of Charlotte standing behind me. Her frizzy red locks stuck out in all directions and zit cream glowed against her skin in the dark space. “I, um, brought something up for Eunice, but I’m going back to my room now.” I turned to start going again.

Charlotte walked closer. “Then why are you sneaking around?”

“Well, I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

The girl crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the rail. “What did you bring up?”

Think. Think. What had I seen in the room? “Oh, a table tennis ball was found on the first floor. It must have got knocked down during a game. I just put it back. That’s all.”

Charlotte stared at me a moment, then her teeth glimmered in the night. “That was nice of you, but it probably could have waited until morning. I don’t think any of us will be playing ping pong at 11 p.m.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” I laughed nervously. “You’re Charlotte, right?”

“That’s right. And you’re Cynthia, the maid.”

I bristled at the word maid. “Most people just call me Cindy.”

“Cindy,” she repeated. “Well, Cindy, my sister and I were just about to play a card game. You want to come play with us? It’s always better with three people.”

Part of me wanted to bolt. Play a game with the sisters? Was she nuts? The old me would have responded with a big fat “no” before the girl even finished her sentence, but perhaps I should. I could use the distraction and maybe, just maybe, this would work in my favor later. “Sure, why not? I suppose one hand couldn’t hurt.”

I followed her back down the hall. Not once had I ever stepped foot in their room since they had moved in. Before Dad remarried, it had housed Mom’s art studio. It has always been cluttered, so I never went in. Now, I got why the sisters didn’t care about sharing a room, or should I have said “suite.”

Two loft beds adjoined at the corners of the room, covered by hot-pink-and-green comforters and matching pillows and stuffed animals. Underneath them sat a hot-pink couch and matching chaise. Two furry, lime-green bean bags rested on either side, and a round white couch sat in the middle of the room. The walls sported one canvas of ruby lips and another with a green eye and long black lashes. To my left lay a white dinette with fluffy green chairs.

Gabby waited in one with cards and a huge grin. “You found a third person. I’m so glad you didn’t wake up Mom. She was super tired and a tad grumpy.”

“Hi, I’m Cindy,” I said, walking toward her.

“Welcome, Cindy. Sit, and we’ll show you how to play.”

I slid into one of the green chairs—soft and comfortable, and my body relaxed.

Charlotte bent down to a short refrigerator, and then returned balancing three strawberry sodas, a bag of carrots, and a tub of hummus. “I hope you like strawberry. We adore anything pink. Don’t we, Gabby?”

“Yes, yes. Of course. We like color. Really any color, but pink is the best. You can probably tell.” Gabby beamed, peering around the room.

“Why do you suppose you’re attracted to so much color? I’ve always been drawn to black,” I admitted.

The two sisters glanced at each other, then Charlotte shrugged. “I suppose because it makes us happy. Both of us went through a pretty dark place when our dad left our mom. It was ugly. He never even said good-bye. He just left in the middle of the night, like we meant nothing to him, and I guess, we decided not to let the bad junk have us. We made a choice to just be happy.”

Not once had I ever considered the sisters’ past, pain, or feelings. It had not occurred to me that they also shared my grief of losing a parent. Nor had I cared. Guilt crushed my chest. Sure, I had never understood these two. I still didn’t. But truthfully, I had never tried. For the first time, I did not view them with contempt, but I intended to see who they really were. Of course, if they knew who I actually was, I would apologize then and there, but an apology would not make sense in this context. So, I remained quiet, but thought, I’m sorry, really and truly. If I did make it out of this nightmare, I hoped to make it up to them somehow.

“Okay, enough talk about sad stuff. Let’s play.” Gabby fanned the cards through her fingers, then set them on the table, and lifted each one to explain its purpose. “The winner will be the one of us with the least number of points. But this is about deception. Charlotte has a tell, so I always know.”

Charlotte huffed. “I do not.”

“Sure, okay. You don’t.” Gabby smiled and winked at me. She finished the rules, then started to deal.

The game sounded easy enough, and it was. I won the first round.

“Beginner’s luck,” Gabby touted dramatically. “You haaave to play again. Please.”

So, I did. Three more times. And I won three more times. This was my kind of game. Lie, be vicious, destroy your opponent—something I knew how to do well. I loved it.

“Wow, are you sure you’ve never played this game before?” Charlotte asked.

I shook my head. “Never.”

“Well, you’re really good at it. If we ever find a fourth, we’ll have to play teams. I get you on mine, of course.” Charlotte grinned.

“Hey!” Gabby said. “Who says?”

“Me, I called it.”

“What are we, twelve? We’ll play rock, paper, scissors.” Gabby put out an open palm with a fist in the middle.

I had to smile at their chemistry and interaction. What I thought was nerdy and obnoxious before, I now saw as kind of enduring. “Thanks for letting me play. But I’d better get to bed. I’ve got an early day tomorrow mopping floors.” I rose to go.

Gabby mirrored my movement and blocked my path. “This is strange to say, and please don’t take offense to it, but you don’t seem like someone who should be a maid.”

I laughed, not sure how to respond. Of course, I didn’t seem like someone who should be a maid, because I wasn’t. “Thanks for saying so. I appreciate that.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Cindy. I bet you could be someone amazing if you wanted to be. I mean, if you want to be a maid, there is nothing wrong with that. Like, if that is your dream, you can be the best maid, but I just think you are destined for more.”

Charlotte came on the other side of me and put a hand on my shoulder.

Surprisingly, I didn’t flinch her off.

“You’re a strong young woman growing up in the twenty-first century. It’s our time as women to rise above the stereotypes and become something amazing. Be whatever we want to be.”

“Wow, that’s, um—”

Charlotte stepped a bit close and laid a hand on my other shoulder. “What’s your dream, Cindy?”

“My dream?” That stumped me. Did I even have one? I had never thought about it before. Life had been about spending my dad’s money, not making goals. Why dream when one has it all? Because of our wealth, I had what most people worked their whole lives to obtain. Up until it was stripped from me, I had been all right with that. But if I didn’t get my life back, what would I do? I had no idea.

“What have you always wanted to do when you grow up?” Charlotte giggled. “That is your dream.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Maybe now, I should find a dream and aspire for more. Because returning to my old life might not happen. Anything but being a maid. That I knew for sure.

“Well, when you figure it out, you let us know.” Charlotte backed up a few steps.

Gabby let go. “Maybe we can help.”

I walked toward the door, but then I stopped and twisted back around to face them. “Out of curiosity, what are your dreams once the two of you graduate?”

They looked at each other and said in unison, “To be like Oprah.”

I stared a moment with a wrinkled brow; unsure I had heard right. “I’m sorry. Come again?”

Gabby flashed her metal smile and started pointing around the room. “You get a car, and you get a car, and you get a car.”

“And you get a pony,” Charlotte said, and both girls giggled.

I laughed. “Oh, you want to help people achieve their dreams.”

“Precisely,” they said in unison again.

It was like they shared a brain.

“There is nothing cooler than seeing someone sad start to smile for the first time,” Charlotte said.

Gabby nodded, grinning ear to ear.

“We got to do that at an orphanage last year. Oh my gosh, it was the best ever.” Charlotte rushed to a tiny bookshelf, removed a small album, flipped through it, and handed it out for me to see.

I cupped it in my palms and looked at the first photo.

A small kid sat in Gabby’s lap, holding a sucker in his mouth with one hand and a large, plastic car in the other. Charlotte leaned forward and turned the glossy page to reveal a Christmas tree surrounded by presents, and then another photo of a group of kids tearing into them. “The best moment ever.”

I really had misjudged these two. Sure, they were a little strange, but they were really nice people. I handed the book back. “That’s super cool.”

“We go every Christmas. You should go with us.”

I grinned. “If I can get away, I’d like that.”

“Cool,” the girls said in unison.

“One last question.”

“Shoot,” Gabby said.

“Why do you two share a room, when there’s another one just next door?” I asked, pointing toward my old bedroom.

Gabby shrugged. “I guess because we’re used to sharing. Before coming here, all three of us lived in a studio apartment and had to split a queen-size bed. This house is so big, I suppose it just felt more comfortable to be together.”

“Less scary,” Charlotte added.

“I see.” These two had something I never had—a person to go through the dark times with. How I craved that now. The sad realization hit me like a brick. Maybe if I hadn’t been such a jerk to them, they would have given me that, too—friends to help carry the load. “Well, thank you again for letting me hang out with you both. It was a nice change of pace. Night.”

“Anytime. Good night,” Gabby said.

“Good night,” Charlotte echoed.

I skipped down the steps, back to my room. Once there, I crashed face-first onto my bed, exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of being angry with Henry, crying over everything, pretending to talk to Mom, and then laughing and having fun with those girls.

Strange enough, I kind of liked them, after all. They had an innocence about them and a happiness no matter what kind of attitude. I admired that. Unlike me, they didn’t dwell on the negative. Despite losing their dad, they had a sunny outlook on life. I could use a little of their mindset. I closed my eyes and imagined a huge weight fall from my shoulders. For the first time since Mom died, I had a peaceful night’s rest.