The Maid's Diary(50)
I sit there, staring into nothingness, trying to comprehend, until the night grows black as ink. I sit there while it stays black. I sit until I hear the rain begin. Until I know what I am going to do. Those weeks since I first walked into Rose Cottage, since I first laid eyes on those paintings—they have been leading to this. All the pieces have been slotting together for a purpose.
I pick up my phone. I struggle to compose myself, suck in a deep breath, and I call Boon.
“Kit?” He sounds sleepy. I woke him. “Are you okay, Kit? Do you know what time it is? What’s going on?”
“I’m not okay, Boon. I need to see you. I have something I must show you.”
DAISY
October 25, 2019. Friday.
Six days before the murder.
Daisy is irritable as she drives to Vanessa’s house for a late lunch date. It’s Friday—maid’s day—so she needs to be out of her house, but she’d prefer to be in bed with her swollen legs up. She’s two days shy of thirty-five weeks pregnant, and she feels the world closing in on her in all ways. Her body is uncomfortable. She’s deeply rattled by the Chucky that arrived in the envelope last week. And Jon’s weird behavior is worrying. Plus she’s increasingly paranoid, feeling followed, forgetting and misplacing things. She couldn’t find her diamond teardrop pendant this morning. She swears she left it on the bathroom counter. And Jon was yelling at her about where she put his damn shoes.
She just wants Baby Bean out now. She wants to feel normal.
But as Daisy turns her BMW into the lane near the water and sees Vanessa North’s shining glass house ahead, her spirits lift. Vanessa has invited her for a late lunch, and Daisy has to admit to herself that the autumn weather is glorious. Blue skies, a balmy temperature, leaves everywhere turning bright shades of red and orange and yellow. She tells herself the Bean will be here soon. Meanwhile she’ll continue to keep off social media. Jon’s job will sort itself out. This phase will pass.
Daisy parks in the Glass House driveway. As she exits her car, a flock of tattered black birds erupts with a clatter from a nearby tree. She startles, then watches them—ragged harpies fluttering up into the blue sky. Crows. Ugly, bloody crows. Creepy scavengers. What does one call a flock of crows again? A murder. She shivers because at the same moment the word murder enters her head, she catches sight of the tombstones on the front lawn across the street, and a skeleton dangling by its neck from an upstairs window. Stupid Halloween.
“Daisy!” Vanessa steps out of her glass front door, wearing an emerald-green jersey dress that shows off her pregnant tummy. She looks utterly gorgeous.
Daisy and Vanessa hug and exchange air-kisses.
“It’s such a gorgeous day,” Vanessa says, “I thought we’d eat by the pool. Are you good with that?”
“Absolutely.”
Vanessa takes Daisy through the living room and leads her out to a table set for two beside an infinity pool that overlooks the inlet. Daisy is instantly green with envy. Her and Jon’s home is on the opposite shore and nowhere near waterfront. Daisy would much rather live on this side, and right on the water. Being on this side of the inlet would also place her closer to her parents. In fact, the more Daisy thinks about it, Rose Cottage does not convey the sort of image she would like to project. The property was a hasty $7.7 million purchase from afar, something they could move into the moment they arrived from Colorado. A stopgap, really. Because the idea is to relocate to the new resort once Jon is offered the COO job. Now Daisy isn’t at all certain it’s going to happen.
“Take a seat,” Vanessa says. “I’m just going to fetch the food.”
Daisy sits facing the pool and the ocean, relieved to get off her throbbing feet. Vanessa comes back out, carrying a charcuterie board with an assortment of cheeses, smoked meats, pickles, olives, grapes, sliced vegetables, and nuts. She sets the platter down, hesitates. “I thought—no, never mind.”
“‘Never mind’ what?” asks Daisy.
“I miss my wine so badly. I was thinking . . . maybe just a little spritzer.” Vanessa pulls a wry mouth. “Or some sparkling rosé. But—”
“Oh, let’s do it. Just a little drink. It’ll be relaxing.” Daisy grabs on to the idea. They’re both due in a month or so. Surely it can’t harm the babies now?
Vanessa frowns. “Are you sure?”
Daisy smiles. “Of course I’m sure.”
Vanessa puts her hand on her chest. “A woman after my heart, thank God. Can you cut that salami while I get the drinks? The knife’s over there.” She disappears into the glass doors of her beautiful house.
Daisy takes in a deep breath and reaches for the sharp knife on the table. As she carefully slices the sausage, she thinks she really could do with a glass of wine, something to take her tension down a notch. The anxiety and all the resulting cortisol pumping into her body are probably far worse for Baby Bean than a teensy bit of wine in the balmy fall sunshine.
Vanessa comes out of the house with a big smile, two wineglasses, and a frosted bottle of French rosé. She pours the wine, and they sip in the soft sunshine as they pick at the meat and cheeses and fruit. The alcohol blossoms like warmth in Daisy’s chest and makes her feel amazing.
“God I miss this,” Daisy says as Vanessa tops their glasses up.