Joanie looked up from her magazine. “He is drop-dead gorgeous,” she said, pushing her dark, curly hair into an untidy twist which she pinned with a pencil. “He has a sexy laugh and the most beautiful eyes I ever seen on a man. His father, boeph!” Joanie’s characteristic French exclamation when she wanted to show contempt beyond words. English weather wasBoeph! American cuisine wasBoeph, boeph!
“I don’t care how good looking he is,” Millie complained. “He scared poor Liam out of his wits and glared at me like I was a school girl who lost her homework. And”—she pulled a chair next to Nurse Ann—“they both have this infuriating habit of having the last word and turning away as if dismissing you. I hate that.”
Nurse Ann had finished one set of medication and started on another. “They are both like negatives of each other,” she said. “George is lovely until his father brings out his angry side. The old man is angry until you bring out his better side.”
“Old Du Montfort doesnothave a better side,” Joanie said. “Except in the same way that sulfuric acid has a better side.”
Millie turned to Mrs B, who was busy polishing a set of crystal tumblers. “Anyway, I won’t be having dinner with you tomorrow because I am summoned to an interrogation.”
The housekeeper had kept quiet throughout the discussion. She never gossiped and never said an uncharitable word about anyone, not even old DuMontfort.
But Nurse Ann spoke first. “Really, Mrs B, you should have warned Millie. I like young George, but I’ve learnt to avoid him right after he’s been speaking to his dad.” She shook her head, despairing. “There is bad blood between those two, they’re worse than Protestants and Catholics inBelfast.”
“What interrogation?” Mrs B finally looked up fromher work.
“He wants me to have dinner with him, at least I think it’s dinner, he said BrasseriePascale.”
“What?” Joanie was excited. “With gorgeous George?”
“Ogre George,you mean.”
“But a dinner date—”
“Joanie, please don’t make fun, I am nervous enoughas it is.”
“But Brasserie Pascale, it’s posh, no?” Joanie pushed the point much to Millie’s chagrin. “What are you goingto wear?”
Haute couture was the last thing on Millie’s mind. “I’m not going to wear anything.”
“I don’t think you should dothat,” Nurse Ann said, matter of fact. “They have a dress code atPascale.”
Millie couldn’t sit still. “He wants to question me about his father’s care. I hardly think I need a ball gown.”
Mrs B came to Millie’s side and put a hand on her shoulder. “What are you afraid of, dear? He just wants to talk about his dad, it’s allowed. Besides, you have nothing to worry about. You are the best companion his father’sever had.”
“I told him as much myself last night,” Nurse Ann said. “We’ve all been singing yourpraises.”
Their kind words failed to cool down Millie’s anxiety. She needed to move. “Tea, anyone?” she asked, going to the end of the kitchen and reaching for the electric kettle.
“Yes, please,” Joanie said. “If you make that wonderful cinnamon tea.”
Millie put the kettle on and spooned tea leaves into the large china pot. Why did Ogre George rattle her so much?
She broke a cinnamon stick into tiny pieces and tried to calm herself.They’re right. I have nothing to worry about. I have nothing to worry about. I have nothing to worry about.
The kettle was taking ages to boil, so she looked out the kitchen window. East Hill was visible in the distance, the hill where she fell asleep yesterday and was woken up by heremployer.
So that was it? He’d made a strong impression on her, and she’d been hoping for hisapproval?
Okay, take a deep breath, and stop being feeble.
He isn’t your husband. You don’t need to charm him or impress him.
Her reflection in the stainless-steel kettle looked back at her with a crooked smile. Whatever else, she was always honest with herself. It was going to take more than a deep breath to calm her nerves. Every bit of her wanted to impress him.
The water boiled, and she poured it into the pot.
“Who elsefor tea?”
