If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine an alternate universe where I might meet them all.
(NOW)
“So have you always wanted to be a pet sitter, dear?”
Two hours after arriving at the mansion, I’ve deposited my many bags in the entryway, had a tour of the place, and I’m now sitting with the gray-haired, petite housekeeper and a cozy cup of tea. It’s nice to chat in person after corresponding with her over the last few weeks about the details of the job and my arrival.
“I had a vintage shop, but I just closed it.” I smile as if it’s no big deal.
I must not fool her because she puts a wrinkled hand on my leg. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She frowns. “What did you sell? I love poking around in antique stores for china and old treasures.” She has kind eyes and a grandmotherly presence.
“It was mostly clothes. Though I also sold accessories,” I say, then give a lighthearted shrug. “But I felt too cooped up in that store. I thought pet-sitting for the summer would be fun. I mean, who doesn’t love dogs? Right? And living in a mansion overlooking the sea, fab!”
A creepy mansion, I keep myself from blurting out. The historic house is gorgeous in its faded grandeur, but the three-story home with a widow’s walk at the top totally looks like it’s the setting for a ghost movie from a bygone era, complete with a cliffside view of the crashing Atlantic below.
The dog, a small corgi, is trying to scramble up my legs and into my lap. I pick him up. And then I realize his paws are muddy, and he’s peppering my white pants with little brown paw prints.
“Oh! I’m so sorry about your beautiful slacks. If you want to change, I can get the dirt out in a trice,” Mrs. Halle says.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” I debate whether I should kick the dog off my lap, but he’s settled in so sweetly now, and the damage has already been done. “I’m a whiz at removing stains. Vintage fashion trade secrets,” I say with a grin.
“Well, regardless, dear, you might not want to wear white around him. He’s discovered the joys of digging up the garden. Archie’s a doll but a little…high-spirited.”
Archie yawns and rests his head between his paws. Mrs. Halle smiles at him. “I’d love to stay here this summer with the little fellow, but I have to go back to Kansas and help my mother after surgery. So I’m glad that you’re taking over. As I mentioned over the phone, you won’t have to do any housekeeping duties. A cleaner will come a few times a week. But you’re responsible for making sure that Archie’s needs are taken care of. He likes to walk at least twice a day.”
Mrs. Halle isn’t exactly young, so I wonder just how old her mom is. But before I can say anything, she points to a stack of papers on the coffee table. “This is Archie’s schedule, his preferences, and details for anything else you might need, like the numbers for vets, pet shops, and the owner, in case there’s an emergency. The owner wants you to send him a photo of Archie and a text message every day. Just to make sure everything is okay with you two.” She looks at the dog in my lap with a fond smile. “Archie adores a good cuddle.”
“I can tell,” I say, grinning at the corgi. “He’s still a puppy, isn’t he?”
“He’s a stray. My employer found him a few months ago. The vet thinks he might be over a year now. Maybe two. Not quite a puppy, but not full-grown.”
“So you’re a stray too,” I murmur under my breath. I look down at the dog with fresh eyes and realize that though he’s definitely part corgi, his hair is a little shaggier, his ears a little droopier, his tail longer. We’re both strays. And now, we’reboth here for the summer—runaways, deserters from our former lives.
He hops up and licks my face. I laugh.
“I can tell you two will be fast friends,” Mrs. Halle says with a satisfied smile. She looks out the window and sighs. “I’ll miss this place. It’s so beautiful in the summer, even if the house is a lot quieter than it used to be.”
“How long have you worked here?” I ask.
“I got a job at Piper’s Peak as a cleaning girl when I was twenty. Back then, it was a grand old house. Elegant, like its owner. But she passed away a few months ago, and her grandsons inherited it. And before you ask questions about them, the boys are both very private, which is why you signed a nondisclosure agreement as part of your application process. Not that you’re likely to meet either of them. They rarely visit anymore. So we need someone to watch over things while I’m away.”
I’m not surprised. Even if I hadn’t realized it by the size and location of this very fancy East-Coast-royalty type of mansion, which apparently has its own name, I’d figured this job was for some billionaire or celebrity. After all, I got the position through Emma, and with her personal-assistant network, she knows all the A-listers—or at least, she knows all the A-listers’ assistants.
Mrs. Halle continues, “I’ve been told that you’re discreet and responsible. So I trust I’m leaving the care of Archie in expert hands.”
“You can count on me, Mrs. H,” I say, hoping I can live up to her faith. I’ve never cared for another living thing, not even a houseplant. But I keep that to myself.
She pins me with a kind but shrewd gaze. “Well, you must be trustworthy. My employers are picky about who they hire.”
Mrs. Halle stands. “You must be wanting to unpack now, dear, and get settled. I’m sorry to leave you so soon when youjust got here, but I have last-minute errands to run before my flight in the morning. You have your pick of the empty guest rooms to stay in, so long as you avoid the primary suites I pointed out, which are reserved for the owners. Are you sure you don’t need any help with your bags before I leave?” she asks. “You seem to have an awful lot of them.”
I shake my head. “No. I still need to decide which room to take. You go ahead.”
“Okay. Well, if I don’t see you in the morning, as my flight leaves very early, good luck. And have fun.” She must sense my concern because she gives me a warm hug. “Don’t worry about a thing. You and Archie will soon be fast friends, and you’ll do wonderfully. I can already tell.”
Once alone in the mansion, I wander through the rooms, feeling a little lost. Archie scampers after me. Despite the large windows and high ceilings, the house is full of shadows. It feels bewitched, as if it was left abandoned and frozen in time. Perhaps it’s the faded glamour of the antique furniture, the Gilded Age feel of it. Or maybe it’s the large portraits of fancy-looking people filling the walls.
Nerves skate down my spine. I’m not sure how I feel about sleeping here by myself. I’ve never been overly superstitious, but if ever a house was haunted, I’d bet money on this place. Though the apparitions are probably fabulously dressed, like Great Gatsby in the afterlife.
