The Housemaid(25)

She looks at him dubiously.

He ignores her skepticism. “Go put on your shoes.”

It would have taken me half the day to convince Cecelia to put on her shoes, but she obediently goes back into the house to do what he says. Cecelia is nice enough, as long as I’m not in charge of her.

“You’re good with her,” I comment.

“Thanks.”

“She looks a lot like you.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Not really. She looks like Nina.”

“She does,” I insist. “She has Nina’s coloring and hair, but she has your nose.”

He toys with the hem of his polo shirt. “Cecelia isn’t my biological daughter. So any resemblance between the two of us is, you know, coincidental.”

Wow, I can’t stop putting my foot in my mouth. “Oh. I didn’t realize…”

“It’s not a big deal.” His brown eyes are trained on the back door, waiting for Cecelia to return. “I met Nina when Cecelia was a baby, so I’m the only father she’s ever known. I think of her as my daughter. It’s the same difference.”

“Of course.” My opinion of Andrew Winchester goes up a few notches. Not only did he not go for some kind of supermodel, but he married a woman who already had a child and raised that child as his own. “Like I said, you’re good with her.”

“I think kids are great… I wish we had a dozen of them.”

Andrew looks like he wants to say something else, but then he presses his lips shut. I remember what Nina told me weeks ago about how they were trying to get pregnant. I remember the bloody tampon I found on the bathroom floor. I wonder if they’ve had any success since then. Based on the sad look in Andrew’s eyes, I suspect the answer is no.

But I’m sure Nina will be able to get pregnant if that’s what they want. After all, they have all the resources in the world. Either way, it’s none of my business.





SIXTEEN





It’s safe to say I hate every single woman at this PTA meeting.

There are four of them total, including Nina. I’ve memorized their names. Jillianne (Jilly-anne), Patrice, and Suzanne (not to be confused with Jillianne). The reason I have memorized their names is because Nina will not let me leave the backyard. She’s been making me stand in the corner, constantly at attention in case they need something.

At least the hors d’oeuvres are a success. And Nina has no idea Andrew picked them up for me.

“I’m just not happy with the field day menu.” Suzanne taps her pen against her chin. I’ve heard Nina refer to Suzanne before as her “best friend,” but as far as I can tell, Nina isn’t close with any of her so-called friends. “I feel like there needs to be more than one gluten-free option.”

“I agree,” Jillianne says. “And even though there is a vegan option, it’s not vegan and gluten-free. So what are people who are both vegan and gluten-free supposed to eat?”

I don’t know? Grass? I’ve honestly never seen women more obsessed with gluten. Every time I brought out an hors d’oeuvre, each of them questioned me about the amount of gluten in it. As if I have any idea. I don’t even know what gluten is.

It’s a sweltering hot day today, and I would give anything to be back in the house, under the air conditioner. Hell, I would give anything to have a drink of the pink sparkling lemonade the women are sharing. I keep wiping sweat from my forehead every time they’re not looking at me. I’m afraid I may have pit stains.

“This blueberry goat’s cheese flatbread should have been heated up,” Patrice comments as she chews on the morsel in her mouth. “They’re barely lukewarm.”

“I know,” Nina says regretfully. “I asked my maid to take care of it, but you know how it is. It is so hard to find good help.”

My mouth falls open. She never asked me any such thing. Also, does she realize I’m standing right here?

“Oh, it truly is.” Jillianne nods sympathetically. “You just can’t hire anyone good anymore. The work ethic in this country is so horrible. You wonder why people like that can’t find better jobs, right? It’s laziness, pure and simple.”

“Or else you get someone foreign,” Suzanne adds. “And they barely speak the language. Like Enzo.”

“At least he’s nice to look at!” Patrice laughs.

The rest of them hoot and giggle, although Nina is oddly silent. I suppose she doesn’t have to ogle the hot landscaper when she’s married to Andrew—I can’t blame her on that one. She also seems to have some sort of strange grudge against Enzo.

I’m itching to say something after the way they’ve been bad mouthing me behind my… Well, not behind my back because I’m standing right here, as I mentioned. But I’ve got to show them that I’m not a lazy American. I have worked my butt off in this job and never complained once.

“Nina.” I clear my throat. “Do you want me to heat up the hors d’oeuvres?”

Nina turns to look at me, her eyes flashing in a way that makes me take a step back. “Millie,” she says calmly, “we’re having a conversation here. Please don’t interrupt. It’s so rude.”

“Oh, I—”