Chapter Sixteen

Around noon, the staff gathered in the kitchen for a pre-Thanksgiving lunch and a cake to celebrate one of the gardener’s last days. Jorge and his wife had decided to return to family in Mexico for their golden years. Funny, I didn’t even know Jorge that well. Honestly, I thought his name was something else like Bob. Apparently, he had worked for our family for twenty years. How did I not realize that?

“What’s that in your hand?” Gus pointed to a long gold envelope in the man’s right hand.

“Mr. Tremaine gave me a bonus check,” Jorge said, wiping his eyes.

Sounds like Dad. Unlike me, he had an enormously generous bone in his body. I dipped my fork into the buttercream frosting and licked the tip. Everyone seemed merry, but I wasn’t part of it. I observed from the corner like an outsider.

“Oh, good for him.” Rosa patted Jorge’s shoulder. “Well, we’re going to miss you, my friend.”

“Yes, me, too.” Jorge touched her shoulder and turned to the room. “I’ll miss you all very much.”

The women all leaned in for a hug, and Gus wrapped around the outside. They all laughed and stepped back.

“We’ll miss you, too,” Rosa said. “But I’m jealous.”

“Why?” asked Eunice.

“Because he’s from Cancun.”

Everyone hmmed and hawed.

“Yeah, you’ll have it really bad, mi amigo,” Rosa said. “I’d like to retire to Cancun.”

“Come down any time.” Jorge winked.

“I just might.” She gave him another hug.

I focused my attention on the blue flower on my plate. I smashed it, then swirled it around, watching the blue mix with white lines. Behind me, I sensed Henry’s presence. First, his cologne, then his footsteps. I couldn’t help but look up, despite how much I despised him right now.

His gaze caught mine, and he winked.

I dropped my gaze back to the mound of colored sugar. I couldn’t explain to him why he upset me. It wouldn’t make sense. Why would a maid care about a chauffeur using the boss for gain? He didn’t believe me about the alternative universe, so how could he possibly grasp my issue with him?

While the group gushed over Jorge, I tossed my plate in the garbage, slipped out, and returned to my room. We were given the rest of the week off of work to celebrate Thanksgiving. Dad usually let Meredith and her girls cook the traditional feast. The first year, Meredith served tofurkey, and Dad threatened to never allow her to cook again. He called her actions “sacrilegious and un-American.” All in jest, of course, but she had been warned. So, it got a little better, but not by much. Her kind of cooking discarded the good stuff like cream, butter, or any kind of animal fat. You know, anything yummy. Everyone knew she liked her nutritious food, but who wanted to be healthy on Thanksgiving? Just give me mashed potatoes with mounds of butter, stuffing, and gravy piled on top of all of it, and call it a day. But right now, I’d eat her tofurkey if it meant sitting next to Dad at the table. Instead, I would spend the holiday sulking in my room.

I nudged back the cheap curtain and stared out the window. The overcast sky edged shadows across my room, making it gloomier than usual. I lay down and stared at the popcorn ceiling, miserable, until someone knocked on my door. “It’s unlocked,” I said, lifting up on one elbow.

The door opened to reveal Henry.

Despite my irritation, his gorgeous looks still took my breath away. He wore dark pants and a white tuxedo shirt with the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up. Having discarded the jacket and tie, the white shirt pulled tight, exposing his muscles.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

I shrugged and pushed up to rest my back against the wall.

He crossed to the only chair in the room, flipped it around, and straddled the back. “I can tell you’re upset with me, but I don’t know why. Did I say or do something to make you mad?”

I stared into his gorgeous, amazing eyes, afraid to speak. I had never been afraid to speak my mind in an effort to avoid hurting someone else’s feelings. Usually, I didn’t care if people believed me or not. It had never been about them. Everything had always been about me. This, on the other hand, hurt. If only I could return to my old ways, protect my heart, and to stop caring. I longed for the simpler life. But then, I would never be able to return to my dad. And in truth, I had changed. I don’t even know if the old Cindy existed anymore.

“Please say something,” he said.

“I don’t really know what to say, because you won’t understand. You already don’t believe me. So, what’s the point?”

He folded his arms over the back of the chair and rested his chin on them. “Try me. I promise to have an open mind. No judgment. No denying your feelings. I will listen. Trust me.”

Could I trust him? This guy who wanted to use Dad for his gain? But looking into his stare, I sensed I could. I folded my legs to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and prepared to be honest. “It upset me that you planned to use Mr. Tremaine just to get what you wanted. People are forever using him, and it has always bothered me.”

Without speaking, his gaze stayed on me a second.

I assumed he weighed his words, so I waited.

“Don’t be mad,” he finally said, “But I find it odd that you care, since you’ve only been here a short time.”

“In your mind.”

“In my mind?” He sat back, grasping the back of the chair.

I unfolded my legs and sighed. I needed to just dive into the deep end—sink or swim. “Look, I’m just gonna lay it all out there once more. You can call me crazy and leave, that’s fine. I’m used to not having friends, so if that’s what occurs, I’ll deal with it. I so desperately want you to believe me, but I’m not counting on that happening. I’ve tried twice before. The first time, you accused me of dreaming again, and the second time, you told me to see a psychologist.” I took a deep breath. “Whether you believe me or not, I was born and raised in this house. Mr. Tremaine is my biological father. He was once married to my mother, who passed away from a brain aneurism when I was in high school. A short time after, he remarried Meredith. This is not a dream, nightmare, or anything like that. It’s not psychosis or from me hitting my head in jail. This is real.”

Henry shifted in the chair.

He seemed to be listening, so I continued. “After my mom died and my dad got remarried, I was furious. So, I was mean and nasty to everyone around me, including you. On my dad’s birthday, he made a wish that I would change and be good or else. When he blew out his candles, everything transformed into this hell. Though it sounds ridiculous, a fairy godmother met me in the limo, and poof, I ended up here, a maid in this world…in your world.” I paused to see if he was still with me.

His face was blank of any emotion.

But I still had his attention. “Of course, to make it more interesting, I have until midnight, at the start of the New Year, to have rehabilitated for the better, or I’ll forever be a maid.” I exhaled slowly as I lowered my gaze to my hands. I didn’t know how he would respond. Though it might sting, I prepared my heart for him to get up and leave or to call me crazy. Because maybe I was. I only prayed he didn’t do anything drastic, like have me committed. I had never been in a psych ward, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like it.

The chair scraped the floor, and the bed dipped down as he sat. Henry reached for my hand.

I didn’t resist. I raised my eyes to meet his.

“Call me the insane one, but I believe you,” he said.

My eyes filled with tears. I grinned, despite them.

“One question, though.”

“Yeah?”

“At midnight, if you change back to your debutante self, will I still know you?”

I remembered the fairy godmother’s answer. She had said I could not have both lives, but I didn’t want to tell him just yet, so I lied. “I don’t know.”

He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. Our stares locked.

An invisible force lured us toward each other. I closed my eyes as his lips met mine. Soft and warm, he kissed me, then drew back.

“I’m sorry about Mr. Tremaine. I wasn’t trying to use him, at least not intentionally. It has just been so hard in LA. I came out here from Castle Rock, Colorado, with nothing but a backpack, fifty dollars, and a screenplay. I’ve been trying to pitch my dream to anyone who would listen. After hearing of my million rejections, this buddy of mine said he could get me work for one of the biggest producers in Hollywood. Well, being a desperate man, I guess I just…”

I laced my fingers with his. “I get it. I’m just super protective of him, you know. But I don’t think you’re malicious.”

He kissed me again. “I like you. I really hope you remember me when you change back into the boss.”

I smiled. “I hope you remember me, too.”

His finger trailed my cheek and chin, then his eyes lit up. “Hey, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“You’re looking at it.”

He raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. “Uh, no. You should come home with me.”

“Home with you?” My pulse increased.

“Yeah, to Colorado. I’m leaving here in about an hour. Wanna go?”

“You want me to go to your parents’ house?” I still couldn’t believe what he was asking. A man taking a woman to his parents’ house, that sounded serious. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I overthought it.

“Well, my dad’s house. My mom is no longer with us.”

That bit of news overwhelmed me. Henry had lost his mom, too? We were more alike than I gave him credit for. “I’m so sorry.”

He offered a tight grin. “So, what do you think? Road trip?”

Like I had so many offers. “Sure, why not? Sounds fun. Road trip.”