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“Your fingers?”
“Dust! I have run my fingers along every surface between the front door and here. What are you doing sitting at the kitchen table anyhow?”
“Trying to work.”
“And as you can see, the cleaning lady has not done an acceptable job. With Grandmama’s condition, the least we can do is ensure her respiratory health by cleaning the dust. You'll need to fire her.”
“Now, Simone—”
“And I wanted to talk to you about the decor in the front sitting room. It has a classic look, but if we are going to invite photographers into the house, which I think should be the next move for augmenting the brand of Dubois Estates, then we have to bring a more modern feel.”
“Simone—”
“I see this as an opportunity to bring together my strengths with yours. I've had to learn to read the room, and you are a workhorse.”
In addition to being an internationally recognized researcher, Simone’s had to claw her way through the ranks when many women were being overlooked for promotions. When she gets an idea, she doesn’t let it go. It's a wonderful quality in a researcher but rather challenging in an arranged engagement.
An engagement that has never been firmly established. She doesn’t even have a ring.
It's just that this has always been the conversation for as long as I can recall. Somehow conversation became reality. An assumed reality. It's not my assumption nor my reality, but it is the hand I've been dealt.
Until I met Natalie, it never really mattered that everyone assumed Simone and I would one day be King and Queen of the estate.
Now, it matters.
A part of me had hoped that Grandmama would have passed on by the time I would have to face the music. But I don't want to wait for that; I need to find a delicate way out of this situation. Simone is unpredictable and she knows all our family secrets.
“Oh dear,” she says looking at me, her head cocked unnaturally to the side. “You look terrible. What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Can I help?” Her tone is genuine, but then a sly smile dances across her face. “You can't hide anything from me.” Her eyes sharp like knives and her hair slicked back in a bun. With the way she's dressed, she looks more like the villainess of an international thriller and not a biologist. “Come, come.” She waves me in for a hug.
I can't let her think the affection between us is any sign of something more.
“I’m okay,” I say, rubbing my hands together, “really.” I walk behind the table, creating space between us. “I just need to focus on work right now.”
“I understand, mon chéri.” She turns toward the table and flips open my notebook. Heat rises up my neck as she makes a series of grunting sounds at my list of ideas. “This is what you have come up with?”
“I’m still working on it.”
“Thank goodness.” She clasps her hands and bows her head. “I'll go check on Grandmama. You carry on doing what you need to do.”
Natalie is with Grandmama. My hands curl into fists as my mind wracks itself for some way to stop her. It's not that I need to hide Natalie from Simone, but the thought of them coming face to face sends my pulse racing. Simone has a deep-held hatred for all things American, something to do with her being scooped by an American laboratory who published her research findings first.
Simone has venom to spare when she feels wronged. Natalie waiting on Grandmama is harmless, but it could have a negative effect on Simone.
I can't keep her from seeing Grandmama---Grandmama was there when Simone was born. Our family and hers go back as far as our lineage is recorded. The best I can do is be there.
“I'll come with you. It'll do me good to get out of here.”
“That's more like it,” she says and takes my arm without asking.
Dread weighs like a two-ton barrel of wine in my stomach as I follow her up the stairs.
It'll be fine, I tell myself. This is a temporary arrangement. Natalie is my employee. There's nothing to worry about.
A mild preoccupation. A pleasant distraction. If I spend day and night imagining what it would be like to feel her lips on mine, well, that’s just a normal reaction.
