I barely slept a wink when I finally found a place to park because I was so afraid he would appear, even though I’d taken our only vehicle. Sometimes it keeps me up, wondering when he’s going to find me.
It doesn’t feel like a matter ofifso much as awhen. He’spersistent, if anything. That’s how he got me to date him in the first place, by showing up where I worked enough times that I finally cracked and went out with him.
That should have been a red flag.
I try not to think about Andy as I ball up my pillow under my head and pull the blankets over my eyes, hoping to block out the streetlights. I’ve been trying to save up what I can for a deposit on an apartment, to truly have my independence from Andy. Even just a room in a house would be fine, but everyone wants two months’ rent up front, and I got away from Andy’s house with barely ten bucks in my pocket.
The first cleaning company I worked with was a shit show. The woman who ran the place took an instant disliking to me and always gave me the worst-paying jobs. She chewed me out for the smallest things, then poisoned the clients against me by saying she was sending in a rookie. She couldn’t be bothered to post a schedule, insisting on texting it to us when I don’t even have a phone. It was after she cussed at me in front of my car—because it wasn’t “presentable” enough for clients—that I broke.
I grabbed my vacuum, got in my shitty sedan, and drove away without looking back.
At least that’s how I ended up with my own equipment. She insisted I pay for it out of the money I made, so while I walked away with nothing, I do have a nice vacuum now.
Finally, my muscles manage to relax enough that sleep might be within reach. If I can hold on to this job with Mr. Edgewood, if I can stick with it and keep my food costs low by eating at his house, then surely I can scrimp and save enough money for what I need to live on my own again.
That thought lulls me into dreams.
When I arrive at Edgewood Manor the next day and Mr. Castle takes my car away, I peer up at the many windows that run along the broad, brick side of the massive house. Mr. Edgewood lives in the east wing, through a door at the end of the hall.
I wonder what he looks like. Why does he hide up there? When does he leave?
With none of my questions answered, it’s on to my second day of cleaning.
I spend the first few hours finishing up the lower-level common rooms and considering what I should cook for lunch. Something light but filling would be ideal, so I piece together a plan for an arugula salad with an Italian sandwich.
The sitting room is clearly never used, but I move all the furniture anyway to clean underneath and behind it. There’s yet another sitting room across the hallway, which has also never been used. I’ve reached the dining room when I hear Mr. Castle’s voice.
“Ms. Austin?”
I stick my head out. “Yes?”
“I have a favor to ask.”
Returning my window cleaner to the caddy, I head out into the kitchen.
“What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Edgewood has decided to go out tomorrow and would like you to clean his rooms while he’s away from the manor.”
I wasn’t sure when I’d be allowed in his space. I suppose he probably wants it cleaned like the rest of the house. He just… wants to make sure I don’t see him.
Well, fine. It’s weird, but at the hourly wage he promised to pay, I don’t mind, and I want to prove to him I can do this job and do it well so I can keep it.
That night, though I’ve already been working for ten hours, I whip up an easy dinner of green beans and saucy beef on top of a rice bowl, with a side of an Asian salad with sesame vinaigrette. I send it away with Mr. Castle, then devour my own. When he’s returned, the butler digs in.
“You’re not a bad cook, Ms. Austin,” he admits.
I can’t help but preen. That’s what brought me to cooking in the first place—that people enjoyed and appreciated it.
Once I’ve cleaned up, I tell him I’m headed home for the night. Mr. Castle retrieves my car, and I make the long drive back to the Thrifty Mart.
rupert
I have business to attend to.
There are a few who know of my ailment: my butler, the groundskeeper, and my numbers man. Today, I’m visiting the numbers man.
It’s a long drive to the big city, and I do it myself because I have no need of a regular driver with how rarely I go out. Fitting my big body into a human-sized vehicle is always awkward, but I bought a rather large 4x4 with tinted windows, fitted with special seats that allow my tail through without squashing it.
