“Do you know where my husband is?”
She shakes her head, but something tells me she’s lying.“You should be in bed,” she chastises me like I’m a naughty child who has snuck out of bed.
“I couldn’t sleep.I could hear someone talking outside my room.”
The woman doesn’t respond.She simply walks on, looking back over her shoulder every so often, making sure I’m following.She gives me the creeps, but I don’t even recall where my room is, so I don’t have much of a choice.
“Do you know which room my parents or my little sister are in?”
She meets my question with an icy stare that sends a shiver through me.Maybe she was fond of Catherine.Or maybe she’s just a mean old hag.Her floral perfume hangs in the air between us.It’s a musty, powdery smell that turns my stomach.
“Your room.”She points a bony finger to the right.I could have sworn I exited on the left side of the hall, but maybe I got turned around in one of the halls.“Mr.Moretti will expect you up and dressed before breakfast,” she says.
I slip into the room and crawl back under the covers.I close my eyes and try to sleep, but it never comes.I spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling wondering if Nico will ever join me.
He never comes.
The light gray of the morning sky filters into the room.
A knock strikes the door once and Nico, my husband, enters the room.“You’re dressed.Good.”
“You didn’t sleep here.With me,” I clarify.
“No.”he offers no further explanation.“We’ll have breakfast with your parents, and then you’ll have the day to explore and get accustomed to the house.”
“And you?Are you going to give me the tour?”
“Ms.Bentley will show you around.I have work.”
“No rest for the wicked,” I murmur, surprised by my disappointment.
If he heard me, he doesn’t comment.
I follow him downstairs, making note of exactly where my room is and how to find my way back.As we go down the staircase, I observe the portraits hanging along the walls.Their eyes seem to track my every move.“Your relatives?”
“Yes,” he answers but makes no further attempt at telling me anything about them.“Your portrait will be added next to mine soon,” he tacks on, and I notice the outline of a missing frame next to his.
Catherine’s portrait must have been removed before my arrival.
My parents and sister are seated at the dining table already digging into the buffet set up at the center of the table.Nico pulls out the chair at the opposite end of the table for me, then goes to the head of the table and takes his own seat.
I’m isolated at the foot while he banters with my father.
Mother glances at me.“Someone had a busy night.”She smirks and shovels eggs in her mouth while Gissette giggles at what she’s implying.
If only.
Ms.Bentley shows up and slides a plate of egg whites and whole-grain toast in front of me, followed by a side dish of mixed fruit and yogurt.
“Can I get some coffee?”
The old bat shoots me a stern look and pours me a glass of orange juice instead.
I thank her quietly, making a mental reminder that I need to find the kitchen.I can get my own damn coffee.
“You’re lucky to have someone as experienced as Ms.Bentley to run the house for you,” Mother says.
That’s me.Lucky.
