The Butler(33)

    The police departed quickly, and the plumber and window washer left when they finished their work. Joachim called the safe company and told them it was an emergency and they had to come that afternoon. They agreed to, for an additional charge. Joachim reported Alphonsine to the agency. They apologized profusely, and promised to find better candidates, and said they would take her off their books. Olivia was smiling when he hung up, and was wearing her mother’s earrings and ring. She had mixed feelings about the ring, but her mother had loved it, and it was pretty.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I was short with you yesterday,” she said to him. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“It’s all right. You’re among strangers here. You don’t know me. I’m sorry it happened. I had a bad feeling about her. She was a little too sweet.”

“You can hire the next one. And don’t forget to list her reward with your expenses. And by the way, Joachim, you’re pretty damn scary when you put your head butler face on.” The look on his face, and his tone, had been worthy of Carson after all. She smiled when she said it.

“I only do that when absolutely necessary,” he said, laughing. “It always works.”

“You scared me.”

“I scared her. That was the important thing. Amazing how she had the cheek to collect the reward. But she’s gone, and she won’t be back. She thought you’d be an easy victim. Be careful, Ms. White, and I’ll keep a closer eye in future.”

    “Thank you,” she said quietly, ashamed that she had thought he was the thief. She knew now that he was trustworthy, and she had at least one person to protect her among strangers. She had an ally. She was grateful to have her mother’s jewelry back, and that Joachim was an honest man. She was glad to have a butler after all.





Chapter 8


They worked hard on the apartment, and Olivia bought more than she expected to. Joachim knew Paris well, and took her to interesting places where she found things she liked. It was taking shape nicely and had a distinctive style to it. She liked vintage pieces and antiques, and mixed them well with contemporary ones. She had a great eye for what would bring a room to life, after all her experience with her decorating magazine. Her new home had style and personality. Some of it was very subtle, as she was. The more Joachim got to know his new employer, the more he liked her. She was honest and straightforward. They respected each other. He wasn’t overly personal, nor was she, and they were together constantly, while she continued to decorate the apartment. She often asked his opinion before she bought something. He never volunteered it when she didn’t ask. Some purchases she was sure of the minute she saw them, others she was less sure of. And some were frankly awful, or very odd, but somehow, she made them work when she got them home, which always surprised him. She had a good eye and very definite taste.

    He usually left work by dinnertime, but occasionally he stayed late to help her work on a project she couldn’t do alone. She had a passion for antique books and had bought a whole collection of vintage fashion and decorating books in an auction at Drouot. She found innumerable treasures there.

He stayed late one night to put together a bookcase and help her put the books away. She could have done it herself, but it was easier with his help. The bookcase was ten feet tall, dwarfed by the high ceilings, and she was up and down a tall ladder all night. It was ten o’clock when they finished, and neither of them had eaten. They were too engrossed by what they were doing, and he could tell that she didn’t want to stop and would have been teetering on the high ladder all night alone in the apartment, so he stayed. He offered to make dinner when they finished. They both admitted they were starving. She had bought a roasted chicken at the supermarket. He made a quick bowl of pasta and she made a salad to go with it. He was an adequate cook for himself, but had never worked as a chef, and didn’t want to.

They sat down at the kitchen table together. She had set it simply with colorful placemats she’d bought at one of the shops he’d taken her to. She set a bouquet of white tulips on the table. She used linen napkins and had a nice touch about the way she did things. She was very visual about her surroundings and had an eclectic style. It wasn’t grand in the way he was used to, but she had a good sense for fine things, and he had learned that her home was important to her. She was having fun with the apartment.

    “I used to come home from work so tired, I’d eat a salad out of a plastic box, or wouldn’t eat at all,” she volunteered, as he served her the simple pasta he had made with fresh tomatoes and basil. “It’s lovely having time to actually sit down and do things nicely. Great pasta, by the way,” she complimented him. “My mother always insisted we sit down to a proper meal.” She had always set a pretty table for George, with candles and flowers on the table. She had everything ready whenever he dropped in and acted as though he was expected. She would have been the perfect wife if he’d ever married her. It still angered her that he never did.

“What was your father like?” he asked, curious about her. She talked about her mother, but had never mentioned her father. Eating together, at a late hour, after working side by side all day dropped some of the barriers between them.

“I never knew him,” she said bluntly. “Or actually, I did. But I didn’t know he was my father until after he died. I thought my father had died when I was a baby.” It was an odd admission to make to someone she barely knew, who was her employee. Joachim was quiet for a minute, as he digested the information.