She stares intently at me.Do I have shrimp puff on my face?I wipe my hand across my mouth, just in case.
“Is this your house?”I ask.
“No, this isyourhouse,” she says.“It’s Finn and Jasmine’s house, where you’ll be living and working.”
“I got the impression Mr.Finn doesn’t want me here.”
Phyllis swats at the air.“Finlay MacLaine doesn’t know what he wants.Follow me.I’ll show you around.”
The inside of the house looks like it came out of a magazine.I imagine that Finn’s wife is either an interior decorator or that they hired someone to decorate every square inch.It’s perfectly laid out.But as I look closer around the massive living room, I notice the thick layer of dust on the surfaces, the crumbs on the couch, and various Barbies and Kens strewn around the floor.
When Phyllis shows me the gourmet kitchen, I realize Finn is single.There’s no wife or mother here.The sink is full of dirty dishes, and the utensils and spices and everything else are put in the wrong place, disorganized, like whoever uses this kitchen has no idea what they’re doing.
I turn toward Phyllis, unable to ask her the question, but somehow she reads my mind.“His wife, Amy, passed away in labor with Jasmine.Pre-eclampsia in the eighth month.Do yourself a favor and don’t mention it to him.He won’t talk about Amy except to Jasmine, and nothing about her death, of course.”
I let that soak in and try to digest it, but her explanation fills me with a lot of questions.I want to tell her that I never knew my parents either, that I was told that my mother and father are dead.But I don’t say a word.In my experience, no one wants to hear it.
I think it’s kind of like trying to tell other people about a dream you had the night before. The specifics are boring, out of context, and make them a little uncomfortable.
“I’ll take you to your room,” Phyllis says, and I follow her upstairs.
The staircase is massive and hand carved.Once we get to the second story, I look down at the living room—and what a room it is!I could stay up here and gaze down forever.But I remind myself not to get too attached to anything.
Any minute now, I’m sure Mr.MacLaine will bust in the front door, give Phyllis a piece of his mind, and throw me out. I take a second to memorize the beauty of the house before I have to leave it.
“In here.”Phyllis is at the end of the hall.I follow her past a pink room that has to be Jasmine’s, and then to the guest room.“I’ll make sure there are fresh towels in the bathroom for you.I’m pretty sure the sheets are fine.”
“I’m going to sleep inhere?”I ask.
“You don’t like it?”
I know my mouth’s hanging open again, but I can’t seem to close it.Until Phyllis gives me that intense look again.I snap my lips shut and clear my throat.
“It’s beautiful.I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”And I sure asshithave never slept in a room like it.There’s a king-size four-poster bed!A large television attached to the wall over a massive fireplace!Lamps!A comforter!“I don’t mean to be rude, Phyllis, but this can’t possibly be my room.”
“You got that right.”
The voice a few feet behind me is deep and angry.I knew it.Mr.MacLaine has arrived.I turn to look at him, noting that the strap of my duffel bag is over his shoulder.He’s ready to kick my ass to the curb.
Of course he is.
I step toward him, my hand held out in his direction.He holds out his open palm, and I let the wad of cash drop into it.
It kills me to have to do it.I’m right back to having fifteen dollars to my name, right back to being homeless and hopeless, right back to learning—yet again—that I can’t count on anyone or anything.
I won’t be feeling any more shame in front of this man, though.With a little bit of food and water in me, I’m strong enough to know I don’t have to apologize simply for existing.For trying to find something better in life.
It’s been nothing but humiliation and groveling for scraps for me.I’ve done most everything to stay alive.But when I look into Finn MacLaine’s violet eyes, it’s important to me that a man of his status and money doesn’t think of me as inferior.Less than.
I am proud that I’m still here, still breathing, because I really shouldn’t be.I don’t want his pity or disdain.
He stares at the money in his hand.It takes him a moment to slip it back into his trouser pocket.It takes another moment for him to find his voice.He glances up at me.
“I didn’t place an ad for a housekeeper.”
“I did,” Phyllis snaps.
“Youwhat?”
