CHAPTER ELEVEN
I go to the kitchen just as Shiloh and Kerri are finishing breakfast.
“Morning, Esther,” Kerri says cheerfully. “Bacon and eggs?”
“Please,” I say, turning the coffee machine on.
Shiloh meets my gaze and then looks away. She knows I’m disappointed.
There’s a package on the table with my name on it, and I know it’s from The Pharmacist. I set my coffee down and pick the package up. I take it through to my study and set it on the desk where everything is squared off and neat.
I look around and wonder if I should spring clean today. Get rid of the old and bring in some new items. Running a home business isn’t easy, but it does pay well when you do it right, and I do it expertly.
Everything in here has a place and is packed away in either a drawer or tote. Easily accessible for when I need to send packages. My actual packaging is stacked on some shelves on the far side of the room.
Swag, that’s what they call it. I make people’s branded swag, and it sells like hot cakes.
From corporations to independent creatives, I can make anything listed on my website. I shouldn’t have taken the week off. I’m sure the orders are piling high, but I work diligently and get them done when I’m not busy with other contracts.
I go back to the kitchen where my food and coffee are waiting for me, but Kerri and Shiloh have left the table. I can hear them in the living room preparing for their lessons.
I eat in silence, listening to their chit chat as they discuss math problems. Kerri’s voice grinds into me. Knowing she shouldn’t be here, knowing Shiloh should be done with her irritates me. It’s out of my routine. It’s out of my control.
I don’t like when things are out of my control.
I stab at my bacon and slice through it. I take a deep breath and carefully lift a forkful of the meat to my mouth and chew on it thoughtfully.
I’d given her a week. I cannot lose my cool until her time has run out. I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty little head of hers, but I’m sure she will figure something out. She is, after all, my daughter. I’ve been preparing her for this her whole life.
After I’ve finished my food, I rinse off my dishes and place them in the dishwasher– which is now full. I set it to run a cycle and go back to my office, shutting the door behind me. I don’t touch the package. There’s no need. I know what’s in it and I will pay for it later with a cash deposit into his offshore account.
I start at one end of the room and work my way through each tote and drawer. I pull out what I’m low on stock of and make a note to order more. I also make a note of what must go on sale because I’m not going to restock it. I’m meticulous in my workings, and I’m only disturbed when I hear Shiloh and Kerri leaving for lunch. No doubt Kerri is taking her somewhere special.
I can tell Shiloh likes Kerri, and that’s a problem. It’s her first mistake. Don’t make it personal. Personal gets you into trouble, it stops you from doing what needs to be done. I don’t get personal with any of my contracts.
I move onto my packaging supplies and tally up what I need to order before I sit at my desk and open up my computer. As I’m placing the orders, I’m wondering to myself how Boy is doing–whether he’s managing to rest with the lamps on. I surely hope not, otherwise they were a waste to get.
I think about his dilemma and the fact he wants to be released. I need to give him false hope. I need him to believe I’m going to release him in the end. Maybe closer to the time I’ll play little mind games with him.
I want to draw out this torture as long as I can, but I have already planned for my finale. It’s a beauty of a thing that I claimed.
But that’s for another day.
Those thoughts will distract me from today.
I place my order and pack everything away. The room looks spotless once more. I make a sandwich for lunch before I go lie down for a nap. The long nights are starting to get to me. I need to rest up in order to ensure I’m at my peak when I am fulfilling the contract.
I wake up an hour later to the sound of soft talking. It’s Kerri and Shiloh, who must have realized I was napping. I sit up and stretch. I feel well rested and ready for the evening, but first I need to make dinner. I know I can leave Kerri to do it, but I like to still be involved.
I pull out some ribeye steaks from the fridge and take them outside to the blacktop. I fry them to perfection before I bring them back in and let them rest while I make instant mashed potatoes and steam some garden mix vegetables to go with it. I dish up for the three of us and set the places.
“Ladies,” I call. “Dinner’s ready.”
Shiloh comes running in as I start cutting up her steak. She sits down in her spot and smiles up at me. “It’s my favorite.”
“I know,” I say with a half-smile.
Kerri comes in and smiles gratefully at me. “Thank you, Esther, this looks delicious.”
“Good enough to be someone’s last meal,” I say with a smile at Shiloh, who averts her gaze.
Kerri doesn’t notice. She never notices when I say things like that. I’m sure she just thinks I’m a bit eccentric. Maybe I am.
But I’m not crazy. No, I’m the furthest thing from crazy.
Everything needs to be in its natural order.
I will make sure of it.