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“No, baby, we were just talking.” Daisy climbs into my lap and wraps her arm around my neck. “What are you up to? Are you having fun?”
“I had a ciminim roll.” She grins happily, and I can’t resist kissing her smooth cheek. She smells so good.
“Was it delicious?”
“Yes.” She smiles shyly at Brady. “Did you have one?”
“Not yet. We’d better go get our share before my brothers eat them all.”
“Come on!” she exclaims, jumping off of my lap and running out the door, and Brady smiles at me.
“Come on, then,” he says, offering me a hand and pulling me up to my feet. “Let’s go find a sugar coma.”
The weekbetween Christmas and New Year’s is always chaos for me. I want my employees to have time off, too, so they rotate the holidays between them, and I cover. Typically, I only clean a couple of houses each week for clients that I especially enjoy and spend the majority of the week in my office and doing all the laundry that comes in from the rentals.
It’s paid off big time to buy sheets and towels and offer them to the short-term rentals that we clean, so we can just haul them back to the office to launder and put them back into the rotation. I have two industrial washers and dryers that are running pretty much all day.
But, this week, I’m short by two cleaning teams, so I’m picking up the slack, spending my days cleaning rather than in the office.
And that’s okay. Ienjoycleaning. If I were to see a therapist, they’d probably tell me that my love for keeping things clean and tidy stems from a need for control, and that’s something that I actually have control over. When I was in foster care, my rooms were always sparkling. And even now, if I’m stressed, I clean.
It’s just who I am, and it’s likely something I inherited from my mother.
I have two clients today, both short-term rentals in the condos at the ski resort. One asked for a late checkout, so I have them on deck for later this afternoon. I’ll take the bigger of the two units first.
IloveBitterroot Ski Resort. I’ve never been on a pair of skis in my life, but being at the resort is justnice.It’s new, with so much recently remodeled or added, and the mountains are beautiful. The restaurants are great, too. Our Iconic Women’sCollective meets up here often for our monthly meetings, and the lunch provided by the on-site restaurant, Snow Ghost, is always delicious.
I might just have to take something to go on my way home.
Daisy’s spending the day with Merilee, our next-door neighbor. She’s a retired school teacher, and she loves spending time with my girl, so if I ever need a sitter, Merilee is my go-to.
Having her just steps away is convenient.
Since Daisy will eat with Merilee, I might as well grab a burger and onion rings from Snow Ghost to eat at my office as I process the day’s laundry. God knows I’ll be working off those calories today.
Merilee isn’t expecting me home until well into the evening. It’s rare that I have a day that I don’t have to worry about what to fix for Daisy, so I’ll indulge a bit.
With that decided, I park my SUV in the visitor parking and cut the engine. These two units both have a locked closet with most of our supplies inside, so I have minimal things to carry in with me, which is nice, as they’re both on the second floor.
I ease around the car gingerly, since there is a lot of ice on the ground, and I don’t want to fall. I pull out a bucket with rags, a tote full of clean sheets, and my favorite mop, then close the SUV and turn for the building.
Once the elevator doors open, I muscle my gear down the hallway to the first condo and knock on the door before unlocking it and stepping inside.
“Housekeeping,” I call out, just in case the guests haven’t left yet, but the condo is still and quiet, so I shut the door, set my stuff down, and slip out of my coat and boots before hauling the bucket and rags into the kitchen to get started there first.
There are pots and pans in the sink, which is an irritation. We always ask that guests at least load the dishwasher on their way out, so this will take me longer, but it is what it is. I’vejust finished loading the dishwasher and started the cycle when I turn to scrub the glass top stove that has dried spaghetti sauce stuck to the surface.
What a mess. I’ll let the owner know that they shouldn’t refund any of the cleaning deposit.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I feel the air in the room shift.
“I don’t think we’ve met.”
I yelp and spin, my heart climbing into my throat at the sound of a man’s voice, and I grip the countertop behind me as I swallow hard.
“I called out when I got here,” I reply, my voice sounding calmer than I feel. Jesus, he can probably hear my heart hammering against my breastbone. “I can come back later or tomorrow.”
“No need for that.” He’s a tall man with blond hair and a sneer as he looks me up and down. He’s shirtless, covered only in a pair of jeans that ride low on his hips. Under any other circumstances, I might think he’s handsome. “I must have fallen asleep.”
