Chapter 10
S oon, Edna was at the table, picking up Whittier’s dirty dishes. “Go ahead and eat, dear.”
“I’m not hungry.”
My eyes must have given away the truth. “Are you sure about that?” Still, I nodded. When she came back to pick up the platter of pineapple, she said, “At least eat your eggs. They won’t taste very good come lunch time.” Before she walked across the room again, she whispered, “I promise I won’t tell.”
I didn’t know if I could actually believe her, but she made a good point. Everything else on the plate would be fine later. I waited a few more minutes and she came back to the table. “I’ll take your plate if you’re done with it.”
Frowning, I picked up my fork. “I’ll go ahead and eat the eggs.”
“Good.” She sat at the head of the table diagonally from me. “You’ll have to forgive Sinny. He gets grouchy when he talks to his father.”
Sinny? I couldn’t help but smile. Did he know she called him that?
And I was curious. “His father? Was that who he was talking to before breakfast?”
“Yes.”
Thinking back to the snippets of overheard conversation earlier, I tried to reconcile it with the fact that he’d been talking to his father—and it was yet another reminder of how different our two families were. Although he hadn’t been yelling, nor had he said anything contentious, his conversation didn’t sound like he’d been talking to a parent at all.
He could have been speaking with his worst enemy.
And I felt a tiny pang of…empathy. That was followed by anger, because no Whittier deserved any emotion like that from me.
Either Edna hadn’t sensed what I’d been thinking or was politely pretending she couldn’t tell, because she quickly changed the subject. “You probably already know I do most of the shopping around here—so please let me know if you need me to pick up anything for you—feminine supplies, personal care products, et cetera.”
Yikes. Even though I’d brought all those things with me, she was right. None of that would last for the eternity I’d be spending here. I’d be at her mercy.
Fortunately, Edna didn’t seem to be the type to hold it against me or to expect anything in return. For that, I said, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“Let me know when you’re ready to get to work.”
I’d nearly finished the eggs. “What will I be doing?”
“Several things. First will be cleaning all the bathrooms on the main floor and on the second and third floors in the west wing.”
I could feel the blood drain from my face. “How many bathrooms?”
“I’m not sure. Ten to twelve—but don’t worry about that. Most of them are never used. But Mr. Whittier likes for the toilets to be flushed and everything dusted regularly in case we have guests.” Now she called him Mr. Whittier. What happened to Sinny ? It was probably smart not to call him that because she didn’t know me very well.
I almost asked if I counted as a guest but I highly doubted it. Instead, I said, “How many people live here?”
She smiled, and I wondered if it was because she found this decadence as ridiculous and embarrassing as I did. “Three. Well, four if we include you.” I wondered who actually lived there but I didn’t have to ask. “There’s Mr. Whittier, of course, and you. The driver Greg and his wife live in the east wing on the third floor.”
Weird. So no other Whittiers lived here. “You don’t have a room here?”
“No. I live with my husband about five miles from here.”
I felt brave. “Why does he live in such a big house with all this room he doesn’t need?”
“This is the original Whittier mansion. He grew up here so I guess it’s like his home.” That hadn’t answered my question but I realized maybe she didn’t actually know. “Are you ready?” she asked, standing.
“Yes.”
She led me to a large room just off the kitchen full of cleaning supplies and equipment. Next to that room was a pantry. The only reason why I knew that was because it had a door with a frosted glass window that had the word PANTRY painted on the front in black letters.
Soon I had a cart filled with supplies and Edna said after I finished all the downstairs bathrooms, she’d show me the dumbwaiter so I wouldn’t have to make multiple trips—and then she’d show me where to find all the other bathrooms.
I was still shocked by how big this place was—and, soon, I at least had an idea of the scale after having walked from the west end to the east and back. Edna showed me where I would find four different bathrooms on the main level and then left me to it. I started in the west wing down the long hallway.
So far, Edna had been right about one thing—the bathroom wasn’t very messy. Still, I didn’t trust Whittier one bit, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d planted a hair or tiny piece of paper in every bathroom in weird spots, and if I missed anything, he’d make me do it again as promised. So, even though I was mostly cleaning surfaces that were already clean, I relaxed a little knowing I didn’t have to deal with any disgusting messes.
After I finished the first bathroom, I started walking down the hall toward the next. I decided to peek in one of the rooms so I could look out the windows. When I opened the door at the end of the hall, I nearly gasped out loud. I was in a library, one to rival the media center back at the community college. There were floor-to-ceiling shelves on almost all the walls—except for where the wall curved outward. That was where the windows were located.
Out of every room in the mansion, this one was already my favorite, probably because I had a bias for books. Hoarding books would never feel over the top to me, because, even though I would never have a library this beautiful, books were meant to be preserved and loved like this. Even people like me who couldn’t afford a room this extravagant could appreciate the reverence shown to the written word. I decided then and there that if I ever had free time, I would sneak in here again.
But my purpose had been to look out the windows—and I felt breathless again when I did. The front yard, if I could call it that, was beautiful. The lawn was lush and neatly trimmed, and the yard was bordered by what looked like a wrought-iron fence. There were beautiful tall trees shading much of the yard, and there were bushes and flowers arranged in an artistic fashion.
It was lovely—and if I had even more free time later, I’d plan on spending time outside as well.
After I finished the last bathroom on the main floor, I decided I was ready for a break. I was so tired, thanks to the lack of sleep and emotional exhaustion, but I would not slack off. As much as I hated Whittier, I wanted to prove that I was a woman of my word.
However, a break was warranted.
Meandering to the end of the hall, I peeked out of the huge door. Curious, I walked through, stepping onto a patio with a table covered with an umbrella. This view showed the yard along what appeared to be a side street, which would mean that the mansion sat on a corner lot. Stepping off the patio, I walked toward the front of the mansion and confirmed my theory. The corner of the yard was the spot where two narrow streets met. And in this space was a beautiful stone-colored fountain. There were what looked to be horses facing in four directions with water spraying out of their mouths into the pool below. Around the fountain was a bed of what appeared to be red and white petunias.
I wished I didn’t find it so breathtaking.
Disgusted with myself for enjoying some of the constant displays of wealth, I went back inside the cool mansion and began pushing the cart back toward the center of the house. When I reached the west rear hallway, I stopped pushing and headed toward the kitchen.
Unfortunately, I was also hungry.
When I arrived back at the kitchen, Edna was working at the stove.
“Smells good in here!”
“I’m doing some prep for dinner. Are you ready to eat your steak?”
My stomach growled, but I remembered that I didn’t want Whittier to win. “I’ll eat a bite.”
“I’ve been warming it on the stove. You can also fetch the pineapple out of the fridge too if you like.”
I planned to eat a few slices of it because I thought it would be less apparent than any bites missing from the steak. Soon, she handed me a plate with my reheated steak—and the piece of toast that only had a bite out of it. I put three slices of pineapple on the plate, suspecting that Edna would report to her boss exactly what I consumed. “Where would I find utensils?”
“In that drawer right there.”
After extracting a knife and fork out of the drawer, I sat at the table. Edna said, “I imagine you’re thirsty too. Would you like water or iced tea—or something else?”
“Iced tea sounds nice.” I figured I could use a hit of caffeine to keep me going.
When I looked at the clock, I felt like I’d already lost. It was only nine-thirty. This was going to be a long day. But I could be persistent when I needed to. While I stared at my plate, Edna asked for details about the type of charger and cable I’d need for my phone, and she informed me that she would go shopping after I was done eating—but that she’d be back sometime after noon.
After eating one bite of steak, a nibble of toast, and the three slices of pineapple, I chugged the iced tea and asked Edna to show me the rest of the bathrooms.
After handing me a bottle of drinking water, she showed me the dumbwaiter on the other side of the kitchen. We put in all the supplies I needed and sent it upstairs. When we got to the second floor, she showed me where it was located. “You’ll be cleaning all the bathrooms in this wing, except for Mr. Whittier’s room.”
“I don’t know which one that is.”
“It’s this one at the end of the hall,” she said as we neared the door. “He’s in the master suite.”
I understood why he didn’t want me in his room and I thought it was a good call. As angry as I was with him, I couldn’t trust myself—and then I remembered how he’d threatened to not help my father. Regardless of how much I hated the man, I needed to watch myself.
“You’ll be cleaning the bathrooms in the other three rooms, including yours—and I recommend you don’t slouch off in your bathroom.”
He really was going to inspect my work. Good to know.
“So why am I only cleaning the bathrooms in this wing on the second and third floors?”
I couldn’t read her expression, but I immediately knew she wasn’t telling me the whole story. “We don’t use the second floor east wing at all, and Greg and his wife use the third floor of the east wing, so they tend to the cleaning there.”
I should have counted myself lucky…but I instead found myself wondering what they were hiding in the second floor of the east wing—and pondering when I could find out for myself.
It was only a matter of time…but I would check it out soon enough.