Room-maid(16)

CHAPTER FIVE

I was delighted to see that Julio was the driver who had been sent to fetch me. He was the one who had taught me how to drive and helped me get my license. I felt relieved that my parents hadn’t fired him for it. He caught me up on how his three small boys (holy terrors, he affectionately called them) were doing, and talking to him distracted me from thinking about where we were headed.

Until we arrived at the house. I stood outside the front door, not sure if I should ring the bell or go in. The problem was resolved for me when the door was opened up by our butler, Coughlin. I wanted to throw my arms around him to say hello, but his reserved manner made me stop.

“Good evening, Miss Huntington.” He let me inside and I followed him across our vast foyer.

“How are you, Coughlin?” I handed him my coat and he folded it over his forearm.

“As well as can be expected under the circumstances. Someone stole our sunshine.” I saw the twinkle in his eye and felt a rush of relief that loyalty to my parents hadn’t turned him against me. The staff had nicknamed me Sunshine when I was younger, something I didn’t think anyone in my family knew. “Your family has gathered in the west parlor.”

He stopped short of the door, and taking a risk, I leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I’ve missed you, too, Coughlin.”

Then he turned slightly red, smiling, and nodded at me. As he walked away, I drew in a big breath. I could do this. And maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I was expecting it to be.

“Speaking of things Mother and Father did to try and save their marriage, Madison’s here!”

My sister Vanessa’s shrill voice shattered any illusions I had left about this evening. Ignoring them, I headed into the lion’s den, passing by them to reach the wet bar so that I could pour myself a drink. Or twenty. Anything to get through this. I didn’t know how accurate her statement actually was. I knew that my parents had me when the twins were ten years old in a last-ditch effort to give my father a son, a true heir. Everybody had been disappointed that I was a girl and had spent the last twenty-three years reminding me of that fact.

When I didn’t respond to her barb, Vanessa turned back around to bark some command to her husband, Gilbert Washington Buchanan III. Gilbert was the grandson of a former US president and had his own political ambitions.

Or, more accurately, the ambitions came from all the people around him, because Gilbert was exceptionally stupid. But he had name recognition and people loved his grandpa. He currently had a “job” as a vice president at Daddy’s company. He was waiting for my father to retire from the Senate and then Gilbert would take over his seat and Vanessa would morph into the perfect political wife, with her pink business suits and platinum-blonde bob, just like our mother.

My other sister, Violet, had her back turned on the couple, which seemed like an unwise move. You should never expose a vulnerable spot to a predator. But she was deep in conversation with a man I didn’t recognize. My gaze didn’t linger on him, either, because she drew all the attention to herself. She had dyed her hair a dark brown, almost black. She had on a black cocktail dress that was all severe lines and angles. She radiated wealth and power. And rightfully so—she was going to take over as CEO when my father stepped down.

It felt a little odd when I realized that there were people in this room who would get their dream jobs only when my father was either forced to quit (retiring wasn’t in his vocabulary) or died.

I also realized that in my skirt, blouse, and cardigan I was severely underdressed but didn’t actually care. I considered that a big step.

Instead of joining their void of suck, I wandered around the edge of the room. I’d never spent much time here as a kid since this was a place designed solely to impress and intimidate. Some small part of me was tempted to take a page out of Great-Aunt Ida’s playbook and pick up something valuable that I could sell. I actually wrapped my fingers around a Fabergé egg sitting on a bookshelf. I hadn’t been raised with much of a moral code—in fact, I’d been taught that anything went as long as my end goals were reached, that laws were merely suggestions. I credited my teachers and our servants for teaching me right from wrong. Which meant that I couldn’t live with myself if I stole from my parents.

“Come and join us, Madison!” Vanessa invited. I wished her pregnancy didn’t prevent her from drinking because my sister was one of those rare people who was meaner sober. “Tell us all about your little school and how you’re enjoying being a glorified nanny.”

I gritted my teeth together and counted to five, slowly. “No, thanks. I’m not in the mood for you and your particular shade of evil.”

She let out a fake laugh, as if I were just the funniest person in the world. “Now, you know we just worry about you and your health! All those children and their diseases.”

About to remind her that she was pregnant with her fourth child, I stopped myself. She understood only one kind of response. “You shouldn’t be worried about me. Personally I’m a little concerned about all that sucking up you do to our parents and whether it might cause you to burst a lung while giving birth.”

Now her laugh was genuine. “Aw, the kitten has her claws out! Isn’t that adorable!”

I hated that they all made me feel this way. Like I was a mouse trying to roar. That I was too small and inconsequential for anyone to take seriously. It had been that way my whole life.