Chapter 3 – Daisy
W hen opportunity knocks…
Kneeing a much taller man in the groin while wearing restrictive clothing is not as simple as the movies make it look. “Were you trying to do what I think you were trying to do?”
“Yes but you’re annoyingly tall. Think you could squat down a bit?” That’s the closest I’ve ever seen this man come to smiling. It’s still not quite a smile.
He lets go of my wrist and explains what he meant by the word proposition and it’s nothing like what Rusty had suggested. “You’re offering me a job at your estate as a maid?”
“Yes. My grandfather preferred seclusion in his final years and much of the house has been closed off which I mean to change. The housekeeper, Mrs. Keating, is getting on in years. I told her I’d find her someone to help but other matters have kept me preoccupied. I’ve been assured that you’re honest and a hard worker. Do you have any domestic experience?”
What does he want to hear? I have lived in a house and helped with chores. That’s domestic experience, right? “Uh… some. Napa Valley would be very far for a commute.”
“There’s a cottage for the staff who choose to live on property. You’d be given your own room and meals are provided in exchange for a small portion of your wages.”
“A small portion of my wages, huh?”
He glances down at my soiled sneakers and his scowl returns. “A very minimal portion. Obviously, if that’s not agreeable to you-”
“Oh, it’s agreeable! When could I start?” Pinch me, I’m dreaming! I’ll need to find a way to continue visiting Mimi but that’s a problem for another day. Food, shelter and employment come first.
“Now if you wish. Did that man really fire you over the coffee?”
“That and… well, I may have tipped a garbage can over his head after he suggested the only way I could keep my job was to show him my impression of a vacuum cleaner.” I wrinkle up my nose in disgust.
“Excuse me?” Bless him, Mr. Barclay hasn’t a clue what I mean.
“He meant I could suck his… you know.” Oh, he understood that and his eyebrows snap together, forming a scarily fierce expression. “It doesn’t matter. I think I’d prefer working under your Mrs. Keating than him anyway.”
He’s silent, assessing me from head to toe before he speaks again. “Mr. Radcliffe is the estate manager and it’s best not to find yourself on his bad side but it’s Mrs. Keating’s good opinion you must secure if the position is to be permanent. My driver can take you there today if you wish.”
I do wish - where else do I have to go? - and my new employer makes a call. Within minutes a sleek, silver Rolls Royce pulls up to the curb and a driver in uniform hops out. He does a double-take when he sees me in the pretty white summer dress Mimi gave me earlier. He’s close to my age and quite good-looking but I’m too busy looking around for singing mice and fairy godmothers to care.
“Anders, this is Daisy,” Mr. Barclay barks, seemingly irritated by the driver’s wide-eyed staring. “Take her to the estate and ask Mrs. Keating to get her settled. She knew I was going to be sending a young lady home soon. I’m flying to Vancouver tonight but I’ll return in a few days.”
Anders gives him a brisk ‘yes, sir’ but my earlier bravado over this stroke of luck is swiftly fleeing. What if this unknown woman takes one look at me and hates me? “You won’t be coming home first to make the introduction?” I ask, not caring that I sound a bit hysterical as I desperately grasp his hand.
He smirks, probably amused by me clinging to him after trying to knee him in the balls earlier. “No, my business cannot be delayed. You’re on your own for this meeting, my dear.”
My dear? “But if she doesn’t like me…”
Shaking his head, Grant takes me by the shoulders, his large hands radiating a delicious heat wherever they touch my bare skin. Goodness, he smells divine, like bergamot and birch. “You’ll be fine, Daisy. I assure you, Mrs. Keating does not bite.”
His tone is gentle but he’s still wearing a scowl as he reaches out to adjust the elegant tiara headband Mimi gave me. I cannot draw a proper breath the whole time he’s touching my hair.
Then, he clears his throat and straightens, nodding toward the waiting car and driver. “Now, be a good girl for me and go set my estate to rights. We’ll discuss more of our arrangement once I return from Canada.”
With a burst of butterflies in my belly, I nod and do as Mr. Barclay says, wondering how a simple ‘good girl’ spoken in that deep, masculine voice could leave me throbbing down there .
Anders opens the back door and I climb into soft leather heaven. Looking back as the car pulls away from the curb, I see my new boss heading back into the building where I once worked. I feel the need to really pinch myself this time while holding on tightly to my satchel.
“So, you’re the one, huh?” Anders asks from the driver’s seat, his eyes flicking up to meet mine in the rearview.
“Yeah. It was all… very sudden.”
He snorts softly. “We suspected it would be. Once Mr. Barclay makes up his mind, he sees no need for delay, ma’am.”
“I believe you and, please, just call me Daisy.”
“Happily. Forgive me but you don’t seem near as stuffy as I expected.”
Stuffy? Are maids on grand estates normally stuffy? I don’t want to give away that I’ve never been one before so I simply reply, “No, that would never be me, Anders. How long have you been his driver?”
“A few months. My older brother used to drive for some of his family up in Canada. I hope you don’t mind me saying but it’s just like him having business scheduled out of town on such a day. I hope you won’t be down about it.”
Why would I be down about a miracle job offer? “It’s fine. I know how he is.”
Alright, I sort of know how he is from what I’ve overheard at Golden Gate. People gossip around the cleaning staff all the time. Tight-fisted, hard-nosed and cold-hearted are the words I heard most often spoken about Mr. Barclay.
We pass a McDonald’s and my stomach growls loudly. “Anders, do you think we could swing through a drive-thru? I haven’t eaten a bite today.” I start digging through my satchel. I’ve still got some spare change at the bottom. Enough for a small order of fries at least.
“Sure thing. Guess most girls are nervous on a day like this.”
Bless him, he thinks I haven’t eaten because I’m nervous about the job.
“Don’t worry about looking for your card. Mr. Barclay gives me one to pay for gas, parking and meals. He’s particular about keeping the receipts but I doubt even he would complain about us having a late lunch on him today.”
Well, that’s generous. From sneaked bagels to free combo meals. Things are looking up. Sighing, I relax into the comfortable seats of a car that costs more than I dare think about. I believe I’m going to enjoy being a billionaire’s maid.