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“Master Andrew, it’s good to see you. Though I shouldn’t be calling you master any longer since that’s reserved for children, and you aren’t a child. I hear you’re getting married. You must be his fiancée. You’ve done well, Master Andrew. Oh, there I go again. What should I call you? I call your father, Mr. Scott. I guess I could call you Mr. Scott too, but it doesn't really fit you."
“Hello, David. This is Heather. She’s my fiancée. I think you’ll like her. And no, please don’t call me Mr. anything. How about you call me Baxter.”
David glances over his shoulder and then turns back to face us, his lips turn down in a frown. “If they catch me calling you anything other than Mr. or Master, they’ll fire me. I can call you Mr. Baxter if that’s the name you’re going by.”
Baxter nods and flashes a devastating smile. “It is, I can’t go by Andrew. Everyone calls him that and it feels wrong.”
“Sure, then it’s Mr. Baxter. And you, young lady, you’re lovely. How did you get hooked up with this guy?”
I laugh and my cheeks heat. “We met a long time ago.”
Baxter tosses an arm over my shoulder and pulls me close. It feels right to be so close to him. Sadness fills me because this isn’t real.
“In college, we met in college,” Baxter says.
“Well, what may I call you? You’re not married yet so I can’t go with Mrs. How about we just call you Miss Heather?”
“I’d like that, David.”
“Good, good. Now then, if you need anything, I’ve written my number on a card and it’s in your room. Text me and I’ll take care of whatever it is you need.”
"Oh, thank you," I say, dismissing his use of the word room. He must have meant rooms, or maybe Baxter already had David's phone number. That had to be it.
“I’m serious, day or night. I live in a house just past the woods, on the left, so I’ll be on the property most nights.”
I nod, wondering how weird it would be to have a full-time employee waiting on my every need.
David takes our bags and we head into the house. Baxter’s mother and father greet us along with another couple. They’re sitting in a front room with a bar setup that is way fancier than almost any restaurant bar I've ever seen.
“Baxter, it’s good to see you,” a gentleman who was maybe in his late fifties or early sixties says.
“William, it’s nice to see you. This is Heather, my fiancée.”
William turns to face me, his smile broad. “Well, aren’t you a pretty one. We wondered if Baxter would really ever find someone. Honestly, I thought you were fake since he wouldn’t share anything about you with his parents.”
I sputter and Baxter has to pop me on the back a few times. It takes a few seconds but I recover. I loop my arms around Baxter’s closest arm and kiss his cheek.
“I’m very much real.”
“What would you like to drink?” a woman who looks to be a near replica of Lucinda asks. “I’m Alisha, William’s wife. Lucinda is my cousin. That’s why we look alike though people have always confused us for twins.”
I’m a little surprised. They do look like twins, not cousins, but I don’t say anything. “I’ll have wine.”
“Oh drats, I was hoping I could impress you with my mixology skills. I’m taking a couple of classes. I’ve gotten very good at making a mojito.”
“Oh, what type of mojito?” I move to the bar and Alisha pulls down a few bottles and a tall glass.
“I have raspberries.”
“Sure, I’ll have a raspberry mojito.”
Alisha looks pleased. Lucinda steps close and shakes her head. “You shouldn’t encourage her. Bartending is a vile profession.”
Alisha’s lips curve up and she winks at me. “Darling, you may consider it vile and beneath you, but it doesn’t stop you from getting smashed each night.”
“Bartenders are servants,” Lucinda says.
Horror washes over me. Alisha shakes her head and Lucinda rolls her eyes. She reaches for a glass. “Since you’re playing the servant, get me something to drink.”
