Chapter 5
T he next day Paley met with Acacia to receive the lowdown on her new job. By that night, she was loading her boxes into her car and unloading them again in a posh Georgetown brownstone.
Her quarters would be in a converted attic, and Paley was so excited she could barely contain her enthusiasm. She had always liked hidden spaces, quiet cubbies, out of the way alcoves. To know she was now going to be living in one was more exciting than she could believe. She didn’t even care that she had to ascend three flights of stairs to get there. She dashed up and down them repeatedly, carrying boxes and bags until her legs felt like they might fall off. After that, she explored the house.
Acacia had told her the guy was out of town for a couple of days, so it was the perfect time to settle in and have a look around. She did so unabashedly, disregarding her usual reserve. She would be washing and sorting this man’s underwear; it was better for both of them if she learned where they went and how he liked to have them arranged. Therefore she left no stone unturned in her search, taking note of the precise arrangement of his bedroom spaces. Were things color coordinated because that was the way he liked them or because it was the way the former housekeeper had preferred them? Either way, Paley had no plan to disturb the arrangement.
To her relief, she found no hidden nightmares, no drugs, no basement room filled with chains or anything else of that nature. In fact the basement was filled with a highbrow gym and entertainment center. Paley’s stomach pooch jiggled, reminding her she needed to hit the gym and work off the fifteen pounds she’d gained since marrying Aaron. He had never mentioned her excess weight. She thought it was because he didn’t mind. Now she realized it was because he didn’t care enough to mind.
Pushing away thoughts of Aaron, she took stock of the fridge and pantry, then made a plan for upcoming meals and a list for the grocery. Acacia had given her a credit card belonging to her new employer. At the end of the month, Paley was to turn in all receipts to his accountant, along with receipts for any money she spent on his behalf out of pocket.
“Is there a budget?” Paley had asked. “A limit?”
Acacia had shrugged. “Reasonable.”
Paley hid her frown. One woman’s reasonable was another man’s cheap. Aaron had been forever chafing at her imposed budgetary restrictions, often calling her a Quaker or Amish for her frugality. Paley had felt like sticking to a monthly budget was merely a responsible thing to do, especially when they were paying for law school. She sighed a little as she closed the refrigerator door. At least she was no longer on the hook for her husband’s massive school loans. That was one relief in the midst of so much heartache.
With her belongings unpacked and the house explored (and still clean from its last cleaning, whenever that was), Paley changed clothes, went downstairs to the gym, and worked out. Sweating felt good. Not as good as eating, but that was how she had wound up in her current condition in the first place. She worked out for a solid hour, until sweat poured off her, and then she showered in her new bathroom, climbed into her new bed with a book, and eventually drifted to sleep.
The next morning she learned how to use the fancy coffee machine. It took a few tries and some hints from the internet until she got it right, but the end result was worth it. The coffee was by far the best she’d ever had. Cup in hand, she meandered to the back yard and sat down, enjoying the quiet of the morning. The yard was good sized for being in the city, and it was fenced. And that was the best she could say about it. It was well manicured, but too sterile for her tastes. Her imagination took over as she stared at it, mentally planting perennials and annuals. It could be spectacular, in the right hands. Not hers because she was temporary, but someday some garden loving someone might take possession and turn it around.
When her coffee was finished, she went inside and decided to bake something. Acacia had hinted that, though her new employer usually ate healthy and worked out, he also occasionally liked to indulge in a treat, especially at breakfast. Paley found a recipe and made muffins that were loaded with carrots, raisins, and nuts. Because she wanted them to be fresh and warm, she set the batter in the fridge in order to bake them in the morning.
With nothing left to do for the rest of the day, she changed her clothes and worked out again, another hour. After that she took a long bath and read while she soaked. She hadn’t taken a bath in forever. Aaron hated it when she did, for reasons Paley had never been able to fathom. He’d said it was because she “stewed in her own filth,” but Paley thought it was merely one more fundamental difference between them. He was the type of man who liked to grab a quick no-nonsense shower first thing in the morning and she was the type of woman who liked to languish in a tub of warm water late at night. She had never begrudged him his morning shower; why had he felt the need to comment on every bath? And why had she let it deter her from taking them? Somewhere along the way she had started giving up little pieces of herself, trying hard to conform to what he wanted her to be. In the end, it hadn’t mattered; he had still shoved her aside for something he felt was better.
Paley went to bed early and fell asleep quickly, not stirring when the front door opened and her new boss arrived home.
Acacia had warned her he would probably do so, so Paley woke early, at dawn. The hour was unusual for her, but she tried not to show it, hastily throwing on clothes and brushing her hair and teeth before going to start the coffee.
He wakes at four, works out for an hour, showers, then eats breakfast and coffee before leaving for work, Acacia had told her.
Every day? Paley had asked. Aaron had been disciplined, but not that disciplined.
Every day, Acacia had said, nodding.
So now Paley was up before five, racing to bake muffins and make coffee. She had just taken the muffins out of the oven when a man walked into the kitchen and stopped short. Paley did the same and quickly set down the hot tin of muffins. He was young, much younger than she’d been prepared for.
“Did you break in here to bake, or are you my new housekeeper?” he asked, tilting his head at her in question.
“Maybe both things,” she said, and he laughed in surprise.
“They smell good.” He perched on a high stool. Paley poured him a coffee, taking note of how he took it, cream but no sugar. Then she plated a muffin and slid it in front of him, busying herself with plating the rest of the hot muffins.
“Thank you,” he said. He took a bite, closed his eyes, and made a little “mmm,” sound. When his eyes opened, he realized she was staring at him and fought a blush. “Sorry. So good.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I ask your name? It’s possible I’m supposed to know and I forgot. It’s a thing with me, sort of scatterbrained to the point of it being a disability.” He tapped his temple.
“We’ve met seven times,” she said, a little bit irritable.
He pressed his lips together, looking chagrined. “Sorry.”
She smiled and shook her head. “We’ve never met, sorry. I have no idea why I’m giving you a hard time when I’m supposed to be conciliatory.” She wiped her hand and held it out to him to shake. “Paley Marshall.”
“Piedmont Bonvoy,” he said, shaking her hand in return. “And please don’t be conciliatory, please be yourself.”
“Okay,” she said, giving him a little curtsy.
He laughed.
“What? I curtsy to everyone. It was my senior superlative in high school. ‘Most likely to have knee replacement from constant curtsying.’” What was she saying? Why was she babbling this way to a stranger, and an employer, no less? She had no idea except something about his kind face put her at ease. He seemed like the kind of guy she might have been friends with in high school.
“I think it’s time you had a new superlative—most unusual housekeeper I’ve ever had. Also best baker.” He held his last bite of muffin aloft before downing it.
“I’m sorry, really. I have no idea why I’m babbling this way. It must be a pre-dawn thing. After the sun comes up, I am totally normal. Ish.”
“Nah, I like it. All the deference and normalcy get a little tiresome. I can honestly say I’ve never laughed at one of my housekeepers before. Except one who fell down the stairs, but she ended up with a broken ankle, and I felt like a total heel for laughing.”
Paley snickered at the mental image and pressed a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, I laugh when people get hurt.”
“Me, too. It’s a real problem for a trial lawyer who makes a living from wrongful injury lawsuits. I giggle all day long in court,” he said, and Paley laughed again.
“I know you get this all the time, but you’re really young to be a lawyer. I thought Acacia was kidding about you being a genius. I guess not.”
“I could show you my MENSA card, if you like,” he offered.
“Really? Sure,” Paley said, perking up in interest.
He frowned. “No, that was a joke. I don’t actually have a MENSA card and, even if I did, I wouldn’t carry it around like some kind of weirdo.”
Now she frowned. “Without the card as proof, how am I to believe you’re an actual genius?”
“The card could be faked; how could you believe its veracity?”
“That’s a good point. I’m going to need some other standard proof of genius from now on,” she said.
“Does the fact that I graduated law school before I was old enough to legally drink buy me any leeway?” he asked.
“No. Any idiot can go to law school,” she said, thinking of Aaron.
“This is the toughest interview from a housekeeper I’ve ever had. But what about you? You look awfully young to be a housekeeper. All the other ones have been old. How do I know you actually are one?” he said, resting his weight on his elbows as he leaned forward.
“I’m also a genius, but I chose not to go to law school. So I guess I’m sort of a cautionary tale of what you might have become, if law didn’t work out for you,” she said. “Use my life as a lesson. Tell the others.”
He laughed again and tilted his head, the other direction now. “I’m genuinely not sure what to make of you.”
She gave a little shrug, self-conscious now. Stop babbling, moron. “Can you tell me any food preferences you might have or anything else you think I should know about the care and keeping of your house?”
“I like all food, I try to be health conscious with the occasional treat thrown in, and most nights I don’t get home until after eight. I’ll most likely eat supper then, although sometimes I eat out. I’ll never remember to call, so sorry in advance. I might eat here every night or I might not.”
“Let me ask you a difficult question.” She rested her hands on the table.
He tensed. “Go ahead.”
“Do you prefer I leave your meal warm, with the possibility it could get dried out, or would you prefer me to leave it in the fridge and let you warm it on your own?”
He rubbed his temples. “Asking the hard questions on the first day; I was so not prepared for this. I suppose in the fridge and I’ll do the hard work of pressing the microwave buttons myself.”
“If you find it’s too much for you, call me, and I’ll come press the microwave buttons for you. Or if Acacia calls me, I can make sure to have it ready for you.”
“See, now I’m not sure if you’re odd and cuttingly sarcastic or normal and kind of helpfully sweet,” he said.
“Time will tell,” she said, refilling his coffee without being asked. “Another muffin?”
For a moment he looked like he was going to say no, and then he slid his plate to her with a meek nod of his head.