“I will take it,” Mr. Castle says quickly. “I’ll eat when I return.”
He slips the plate onto a silver tray, then covers it with a matching cloche and vanishes.
Most odd. Perhaps Mr. Edgewood simply likes his privacy. I’m a little insulted, because I do like watching when people appreciate my food, but I’ll get over it. This is a great opportunity, and I’m going to look at it that way.
When I’m finished eating my portion of dinner, I clean up the kitchen. Eventually, Mr. Castle returns and helps himself to his meal. He even unties his bowtie, and I’m glad he feels comfortable enough already to let his hair down a little.
“You won’t meet Mr. Edgewood,” he says as he finishes his last bite. I turn around from where I’ve been cleaning some wine bottles.
“At all? Ever?”
“All business will be conducted through me. You will clean Mr. Edgewood’s quarters on previously agreed-upon dates, when he won’t be in.”
I gape at him. I can’t decide what level of rude that is. I’m in his home, but I’ll never meet my employer? I suppose the hired help is too far below him to be bothered with meeting. What a creep.
“Fine,” I say, replacing the bottle I just dusted. “As long as he pays me.”
Mr. Castle nods agreeably. “He will, and on time.” There’sa note of desperation in his voice. “If you work hard and choose to stay.”
“I can work hard.” I dust the next bottle quickly as if to show him. “And I won’t so much as look at Mr. Edgewood’s window.”
A rather pitying smile crosses his face. “Probably for the best.”
rupert
I watch as the new housekeeper leaves later that night. The lights are all off in my study, so I know nobody down below can spot me if I lean against the window. Ms. Austin waits with her hoover and caddy of supplies while Kellen retrieves her vehicle.
The keys exchange hands, then Ms. Austin loads her cleaning supplies into her car and drives away. The vehicle looks to be fifteen, maybe twenty years old, and a good amount of duct tape is holding the front bumper on.
Hmm.
She came highly recommended by my neighbor, Stella Austin—one of the more annoying Americans I’ve met since coming here.
My grandniece, she had said.She’s in a pickle and needs a job.
Good timing, as it’s been nearly three months since the last housekeeper left. Word must have gotten around, probably via the country club, that Mrs. Quill had stormed out of the house. She likely got another job with one of my neighbors and spilled her story about the picky, reclusive cunt who lives in the Edgewood Manor.
Ah, well. Eccentric billionaires aren’t uncommon.
When the car is gone, I remember Ms. Austin’s unusual shape—rather like a pear, but with full breasts under her loose work shirt and trousers. It’s too bad we’ll never get to meet. I would like to get a closer look at her.
I stare down at my hands and open them wide, extending my claws. Why, if I so much as touched her… I’d tear her to ribbons.
Curling them back into fists, I sit down on my red silk sheets, which I’ve shredded many times while I slept. My dreams are always disturbed.
Just like me.
two
. . .
peony
What a weirdo, that Mr. Edgewood.
I head back to town, trying to keep my eyes open as I drive under dark branches. It was a long day at the manor, and my body’s exhausted. Eventually, I end up on the highway, and then it’s all I can do to reach the Thrifty Mart parking lot in town before I fall asleep at the wheel.
But first, I push the seat back as far as it will go and reach into the trunk for my blankets and pillow. I managed to smuggle bedding out to the car a little at a time before the night I finally left, so it was waiting there when I drove away from Andy’s house.
