Chapter 8
Chapter 8
P aley met Mattie downtown. When she saw him across the room, she started to cry. He picked her up and spun her around, holding her tightly a minute before setting her down.
“I’m sorry,” she said, sniffling and, using a proffered napkin, wiped her nose.
“For what?” he asked.
“For letting go of our friendship,” she said.
“You were married, it was only natural.”
“I should have married someone who could be friends with you, too, who would understand,” she said.
“Of course you should have. I was trying to be nice.” He grimaced. “Didn’t suit.”
“Not at all,” she agreed, hugging him again. “I’m so ridiculously glad to see you.”
“You, too,” Mattie said, returning her hug. He had already put their names in. They were seated shortly and perused the menu before they started to talk. “So. What’s new? Still decorating cakes?”
“No. Are you ready for this? I live in the posh section of Georgetown in a massive three story brownstone.”
“Did you get that in the divorce?” he asked, agog.
“No, I haven’t gotten anything in the divorce because we’re not divorced yet. I got it on my own.”
“Lottery? Drug mule? Insider trading?”
“All three combined. I used my insider information to play the lottery on my way home from making a drug delivery in Venezuela.”
“Busy girl.”
“You know me, always ambitious,” she said, and he laughed.
“What’s the catch, really?”
“I’m a housekeeper for a rich lawyer,” she said.
“Like Downton Abby?” he asked.
“Exactly. When I’m there, I affect a British accent and everything. It’s kind of exhausting, but you know me, I never complain.”
“You complain incessantly, you miserable harpy,” he said, reaching over to tweak the hair resting on her shoulder.
“Yes, but now I do it in a British accent, so it sounds really, really good,” she said.
“Speaking of accents, I talked to your mom, don’tcha know,” he said, imitating her mother’s intonation.
“Did you go to their house?” she asked.
“And risk walking on the grass? Never,” he said, and Paley’s heart filled to the brim at being with someone who knew and loved her. She and Mattie had been friends seemingly forever. He’d seen her at her absolute worst, and he adored her anyway. And the same was true for him.
She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Mattie, I love you so much.”
“Are you getting soft on me, Anderson?” he asked.
“It’s still Marshall, and no. I’m working you over to fleece you later,” she said, letting go of his hand with a shove.
“That’s my girl,” he said. “See what you can take for me from the manor house while you’re there.”
“I have some dirt for you, but you’ll have to dig it from beneath my nails,” she said, holding her hands out. “It’s not much, but a few million more trips and you’ll have enough to pot a small flower.”
He whistled appreciatively.
“Nothing’s too good for my best friend,” she said.
“No, I was whistling for backup. Time to truck you to the looney bin. Seriously, Paley, you’re showing me your finger dirt. We’ve known each other too long.”
“I scrub, but it doesn’t come out, and it’s kind of a badge,” she said.
“The kind that says you need better soap?”
“The kind that says I planted things and nurtured life today.”
“Are you also the gardener?”
“Unofficially,” she said. “And happily.” She beamed at him.
“That was creepy.”
“Sorry, I’m a bit out of practice at smiling.”
“That bad, huh?” he asked, resting his chin in his hand.
Paley let out a breath. She never would have complained to him if she and Aaron were still together. But now that it was over… “It was miserable. You want to know how miserable?”
“Yes, please,” he said.
“I’m working for a guy who pays me to do everything in his house for him—cook, clean, wash and fold his underwear. And he’s so ridiculously grateful. I mean, the guy’s my boss and has every right to order me around, yet he’s always so careful to tell me how much he appreciates the things I do for him. I did all the same things for Aaron for free while working another job, and yet he always found a reason to criticize. Nothing was ever good enough for him. The whites weren’t white enough, the house wasn’t clean enough or decorated well enough or fancy enough, the meals were too heavy, too bland, not enough something. And then there was me as a person.”
“How could he possibly find fault with my Paley?”
She gazed up at him, tears pooling in her eyes. “He did. A lot. Everything was wrong. He made me feel stupid and ignorant and ostracized. I started eating to numb myself. I gained fifteen pounds, another strike against me. He made me feel like a fat, miserable failure, and the worst part is I let him.” She swiped impatiently at her eyes. She hadn’t realized how far she’d sunk with Aaron until she wasn’t with him anymore.
“What a heartless loser,” Mattie said, kissing her hand and giving it a squeeze.
“I’m sure if he were here, he could list some legitimate faults of mine for you. I am in my own little world most of the time,” she said. “And I do…”
“I’m well acquainted with your faults, Paley. But guess what? I have faults, too. I still love you, and you still love me. It’s what you do with the people in your life, you love them in spite not because. You don’t try to make them perfect; you try to love them even though they’re not.”
“Wow, that’s really good, Mattie,” she said, brushing at her eyes again.
“I’ve got a million of them,” he said, blowing on his nails and buffing them on his chest. “Come on, enough talk about the piece of trash who is, thankfully, no longer in your life. Tell me what else is going on with you now. Do you plan to stay at Downton forever?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed. “What is wrong with me, Mattie? Why can I never figure out what I want to do with my life? You’ve always known; I’ve never known. I always feel like someday some magic mirror is going to reveal to me what my true purpose is, but until that day I’m doomed to wander the earth forever, lost and looking.”
“You know what your problem is, Paley? You were born out of time. If you were hatched fifty years ago, you’d be a housewife, and because you wouldn’t know anything different, you’d be happy. But instead you were born now, and you’re crazy smart, so you have society telling you that you should be driven and ambitious, preferably in some kind of STEM field. But in your heart, you’re happy to cook and bake, to read and drink tea and putter in your garden.”
“Mattie, what have I done without you in my life these last few years?”
“Been miserable and alone?” he guessed.
She nodded. They spent a long while talking about him, to Paley’s relief. Not only did she not want to dwell on herself or her problems, she was deeply curious about what was going on with him. When the meal ended, they went to grab coffee, and when they could linger there no longer, Paley invited him back to the house to watch a movie.
“I don’t want to brag, but I have a loveseat and television in my third floor maid’s quarters,” she said.
“Why did you have to tell me? Now I’m eaten away with envy and will have to score better maid accommodations of my own to outdo you,” he said.
Piedmont wasn’t home when Paley let them in. Vaguely, she wondered where he was and if he was on a date. He hadn’t mentioned a girl, and she had never seen anyone but him at the house, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t seeing anyone. He was handsome, rich, and ambitious, a winning combination in competitive Washington DC.
“Wow,” Mattie said, stopping short in the entryway to appreciate the lovely townhome. “This actually is really nice and enviable. Tell me something bad to tamp down my jealousy.”
“I decorated my own divorce cake,” she blurted and told him the story of Aaron’s cake order.
“That was too much bad. Now I’m glad you have such nice maid quarters,” Mattie said, tucking his arm around her shoulders on the long walk up the stairs. They sat on the loveseat and watched one of their mutually favorite movies from high school. By the end, Mattie was asleep. Paley touched his arm.
“Mattie, do you want to stay or go?”
He blinked sleepily at her. “Stay.”
She slipped off his shoes and covered him with a blanket as he curled into a ball on the tiny loveseat. When he was set, Paley washed her face and crawled into bed.
Piedmont saw the strange car in his drive and wondered who it was, wondering if Paley was reconciling with her husband. He felt a moment of regret over the thought, and then selfish. Just because she was a good housekeeper and he was comfortable with her was no reason for him to want to keep her to himself. She was young and deserved to have a life outside his house. Still, the thought of her leaving, of breaking in someone new and adjusting to having someone else in his space, filled him with dread. The next morning as he was working out, the door alarm beeped, alerting him to the fact that Paley’s mystery guest was likely going home.
When he saw her at breakfast, she greeted him with a smile. “Did I hear someone leave?” he asked.
“My best friend from high school stayed over,” she explained.
He nodded, slightly relieved at the thought she’d apparently had some girl time. “How was your night?” she surprised him by asking.
“Boring,” he said. It had been another function, one he’d shown up to alone. Which was worse, to try and score a date to these things or show up alone and feel like chum in the water for predatory women? He still hadn’t figured that out.
“It’s Saturday,” she said, presenting him with fresh chocolate croissants. “Treat day.”
“Saturday is quickly becoming my favorite day,” he said, reaching for the pastry with maximum enthusiasm.