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He smiles. “I’ll plan on it.”
I push through the front door before he can see my mouth mirror his. I hum Shania Twain’s “Best Friend”all the way to my room.
I havetexts waiting for me from Meg and Livy in our group chat, but I don’t read them. As much as I want to know how much fun they’re having with Meg’s family, it’s easier if I keep my focus here in Maine. They’re probably worried about my silence, but they would be so much more worried if they knew the truth.
If I were home, I’d stay in my pajamas all day, or at least yoga pants and a t-shirt. Instead, I curl my hair and applymakeup to smooth out my pinkish complexion and bring out my eyes. I wear the softest gray wool pants I’ve ever touched and a green silk blouse that feels like a cloud against my skin. Not my usual wardrobe for a Sunday morning.
I glance at the schedule. Today we’re visiting the town of York and the Nubble Lighthouse. I grab the Valentino flats Spencer bought me since it seems we might walk a lot.
I’m excited about tomorrow’s visit to a tree farm. This house needs some sort of decoration for Christmas, and a tree is perfect. On Christmas Eve, Rheta has planned Nordic skiing at Mount Agamenticus. I don’t imagine she’ll be joining us on such a rigorous activity. The day after Christmas will be Boxing Day at the community center, whatever that means. Friday is a family discussion with her lawyer about her last will and testament. I’ll be officially engaged by then. Does that mean I’ll be invited to the family meeting? Something that’s not worth worrying about right now.
I knock on Spencer’s bedroom door, but there’s no answer. A glance at my watch shows its nine. He must have already gone down for breakfast. Except when I enter the breakfast room, I’m the first to arrive. I expected everyone to be prompt after Rheta’s edict last night, but even she’s not here yet.
The breakfast room is smaller than the dining room, with a table large enough to seat twelve instead of thirty. The east wall is completely glass, with a sliding door and windows that open onto the back deck. Beyond is the ocean where sunlight reflects off the water. It’s breathtaking. This may be my favorite room in the house.
A server, a young woman who looks to be around age twenty, stands next to the sideboard and smiles at my entrance. The smile only lasts a few seconds until she looks down. I wonder if she isn’t allowed to engage with the guests in the house. It bothers me if my guess is correct. Enough that I go to the sideboard, but instead of picking up a plate, I speak to her.
“Have you worked here long?”
She clears her throat. “Not long.”
I lean close and say in a whisper, “This place is crazy, right? I counted ten bedrooms upstairs, all with their own bathroom. I hope you don’t have to clean them all.”
Now she looks up, her eyes dancing. “No, I’m kitchen help.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“I don’t know yet. This is my second day, and it’s only a seasonal position.” Her face brightens. “But if Ms. Rheta likes my work, I could get a permanent spot on her staff.”
“Doesn’t the family only come for vacations?”
“The family, yes, but Ms. Rheta moved here permanently this past summer.”
“I didn’t realize.” I wonder if Spencer knows. If so, he didn’t mention it. “I’m Layla.”
Her smile brightens. “Hannah.”
A clatter comes from the anteroom and she straightens her back and looks down again.
“Miles said I’m to be invisible and silent.”
I can understand how Dorian and Ellory might be offended if the staff started talking to them, but I’m not like that. Just a few days ago I would’ve been in Hannah’sposition, trying to make money during the holiday break. I relate to her more than Spencer and his cousins.
“Well, I am the one who spoke to you,” I say. “It would be rude if you didn’t respond. It’s nice to meet you, Hannah.”
“You too, Layla.”
My stomach grumbles. Everything smells so delicious. The food spread out on the sideboard is enough to feed three times as many people as are staying here. There are biscuits, muffins, croissants, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, cut fruit, yogurt, and three fresh juices along with coffee and hot cocoa.
“Hannah, do you know if I should wait for everyone else to arrive before filling a plate?”
“I was told breakfast lasts until ten o’clock and that the family will come and go during that time.”
“Thank you. That’s very helpful.”
My stomach grumbles again, and I reach for a plate. The door opens and I look over my shoulder as Owen, Marianne, and Brady enter.
Brady has a thick book under his arm, and Marianne reminds him there is to be no book reading during meals. “We’re here to spend time with extended family, not fictional characters.”
