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She continues to watch me as I walk to the coffee machine and flick it on. She’s my father’s terrible hire. Not mine. He won’t be happy if I let her go, despite how tempted I am. Although I’ll be making my recommendation the minute I see him.
I roll my neck side to side, cracking it.
“That’s bad for your bones.”
I repeat the move, forcing another deep crack to ring out in the air.
“And telling me what to do is almost always bad for the other person,” I quip, abandoning all sense of civility. I’m tired, under-caffeinated, and have a natural aversion to slackers and freeloaders.
This new housekeeper, young and pretty, or not, is testing my already thin patience.
“Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Rude to guests.”
I hover over the coffee machine’s button.
“Guests…” I echo before clearing my throat. “You never told me your name.”
I don’t turn around, unable to see if those pouty lips are wearing a smug smile from uncovering my faux pas. Maybe she hasn’t noticed it.
“Ava,” she says.
I whirl around. “Ava?”
“Roberts.” She raises her chin, holding my eyes.
I narrow mine in response as I regard her. “I see.”
“Your father told you I was staying, right?”
I busy myself making my coffee, ignoring her question. To admit that he didn’t will be admitting that I thought she was someone else. And that I was wrong.
And I’m never wrong.
“I’ll keep out of your way. I’m going to unpack and then head into the office,” I say, turning with my coffee in hand.
“Okay. Well, I usually work in the pool house anyway, so…” She shrugs as I blow the steam away from my cup and take a sip.
She looks at me as if she’s waiting for me to ask what work she’s doing. But I don’t care. I don’t have time to care.
“Then I guess we’ll not see much of each other during my visit.” I eye her over the rim of my cup.
“No. I guess not. It was… interesting meeting you.” With that, she leaves the room.
The moment she’s gone I pull my phone out of my pocket and text dad.
Me: You didn’t mention you had a guest staying?
Dad: Ava’s a friend’s granddaughter. You’ll love her. Nice girl. She’s just graduated and needs somewhere to stay until she finds a job.
I grunt and pocket my phone. A poor, bratty freeloader. Just who my father needs in his house.
I deposit my mug in the dishwasher and grab my suitcase, heading straight to my room. I may not live here anymore, but my father insists I always have a base here, should I need it.
I walk into the dressing room, placing my suitcase down. There’s an unfamiliar scent in the air, lemony, but also… aquatic. It must be a new air freshener the real Margaret uses.
