Chapter 13 – Rae
The door to the laundry room clicked open. The telltale prickle at the back of my neck was the only warning I had before the shrill voice cut through the morning haze.
“I see you’re back.”
Surprise flashed through me at the housekeeper’s venom. I spun around, bath towel half folded in my hands. Mrs. Sanderson was a vivid shade of red. “Is something the matter?”
“Is something the matter? Is something the matter!” Her tiny body shook and spittle flew from her lips. “You left us hanging last night!”
Oh…crap on a cracker.
Dominico—Nico said he would talk to my uncle. Theo didn’t confront me this morning. There hadn’t been any indication that my early departure was cause for alarm. Either this woman hadn’t gotten the message, or she didn’t care for the change in protocol.
“I’m sorry for that, but I was sent home,” I said with a shrug. “But I’m here now, and I almost have this done—”
“If it was up to me, you’d be done!” Mrs. Sanderson stepped forward, flicking the towel from my hand.
My fingers curled into fists, and I dropped them to the side. “You’re out of line.”
A crack, followed by a sharp sting on my cheek, reverberated through the room.
“Don’t think that I’ll keep you around after this,” she threatened. “I want you gone. It’s only a matter of time before you are.”
The surge of anger that made me bite my tongue wasn’t enough to keep back the sour trickle of fear.
I didn’t want to leave. Last night put too many things in perspective.
I was safe here. No one would dare to hurt me.
If I went out on my own, I was truly alone.
Even if there were demons lurking in this place, even if those demons tried to hurt me, there was protection here.
There was him.
This was the best spot for this chapter in my life. Plus…I needed the money to start over when I decided that it was wise to do so.
That knowledge had me grinding out the apology this witch didn’t deserve. “I am truly sorry for deserting y’all last night. But like I said, I was sent home.”
“You think just because your uncle has tenure here that it makes you safe?” she cackled. “I’m going to speak with the Signora when she wakes up. We’ll see how long it takes for you to be sent packing!”
She spun on the tip of her perfectly polished shoes and stormed to the kitchen door.
Red exploded through the room. I marched after her. “Hey! That’s not fair!”
Franky and Cathy looked up from the baked goods they were in the middle of preparing. While I didn’t want an audience, I was glad they were here to witness in case the housekeeper decided to strike me again.
“Fair?” Mrs. Sanderson scoffed. “It’s not fair you left the burden on these girls.”
She gestured loosely to Cathy, who blanched.
“Francesca, take care,” the cook warned softly.
The housekeeper huffed and waved him off.
Franky drew himself up straight. “Francesca Sanderson, if you’re accusing this girl over the events of last night, let me be the first to tell you that it was a family matter that sent her home early.”
That had the witch pulling up short.
Ah…. So she knew what manner of creature she served.
I rubbed my cheek, gleefully enjoying the spectacle. What would she say if I admitted that I was complicit in murder? Right under her nose. During a lavish party.
“If you have an issue, you need to take it up with the boss.” Franky pushed the mixing bowl to Cathy, who was too busy gawking to begin rolling the dinner rolls into balls for their final proofing.
“Signor Grimaldi doesn’t allow family business at his parties,” the housekeeper said triumphantly.
“No, but shit happens.” Franky turned to the stove and began to pour coffee from the stovetop espresso maker. “And I didn’t mean the don. I meant Dominico.”
Sanderson’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “He’s not the boss.”
Franky slammed the metal Bialetti back on the burner. “Drop this.”
The housekeeper chewed on her gums. “Fine. But consider this a warning, Magnolia. I’m going to have you fired.”
The moment she left, the bad stench of doom dissipated rapidly.
“I’m up a creek.” I sank onto a stool on the back of the island.
Franky gave me a funny look but didn’t ask me to explain the quirky turn of phrase.
Cathy blew out a long breath and began to scoop out balls of dough, rolling them on the floured board, before popping them into the small ramekins. Four small balls made the best pull apart dinner rolls, buttery and pillow soft.
“Yeah, she never liked you in the first place,” Cathy admitted. “While nepotism is generally how things work around here, she took a distinct dislike to Theo hiring you in the first place.”
“That was before she met you and realized you work harder than these two combined,” Franky said lightly.
Cathy let out a squeak of protest. “Hey! I don’t have to help with the baking, stronzo!”
He only winked at her.
I dropped my head on the island with a groan. “It’s going to be so much worse now.”
“It is.” Franky slid the tazzina of coffee to me. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I responded through clenched teeth.
***
There was nothing interesting in the bathroom.
While Arabella had some odd vitamins and supplements, I was more interested in pilfering some night creams or extra tubes of fancy makeup.
What was I going to do with high doses of calcium, niacin, and L-arginine?
There were some homemade tinctures made up in dark glass containers, but when I opened them, they didn’t smell rejuvenating.
I pulled a bottle of concentrated caffeine out and shrugged.
Maybe a few of those would come in handy.
I shook some into my palm before tucking the bottle behind the container of bitter orange.
Why she had them was beyond me.
I picked up the small bag of trash and left the bathroom as the bedroom door opened.
“Just leave them in the hall, thank you, AJ,” Arabella said.
Groaning, I pulled a professional smile on my face and left the bathroom. “I’m finished in here, Miss.”
Sliding her light jacket off her arms, Arabella lit up when she saw me. “Rae! Hi, how are you feeling?”
I avoided looking over her shoulder at where the chauffeur was settling two handfuls of bags on the threshold.
“I’m doin’ alright, Miss.” There was no telling what she’d heard about my sudden disappearance last night. Frankly, I was surprised she noticed at all.
“Can you help her unload these?” AJ asked from the hall. He wasn’t allowed in the little princess’s inner sanctum.
I swallowed the curse. There was one more bedroom up here to clean, and I was actually looking forward to it.
Not because I wanted to spend my morning wiping and vacuuming down the spaces of these people who only partied and shopped, but because it was the first time I was on rotation for the upstairs.
Maddie had been downright gleeful when she said I had to add that to my list this morning.
Courtesy of the housekeeper, I was being dumped with the other maid’s work.
“Sure thing,” I croaked. Aj nodded and left.
“Oh, she doesn’t have to,” Arabella objected sweetly, but the chauffeur was already gone. “I can unpack all this stuff.”
“I don’t mind,” I sighed. “Then I can take the bags down to the trash.”
Arabella shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t, um, throw out the bags.”
I scooped up a pile of crap and deposited it on the bed. Some of these were heavy. What treasures could they possibly hide? The pretty princess might not even notice something missing….
I stopped myself from looking inside the bags.
“What do you do with them?” I asked, returning for another bunch.
Arabella stepped beside me and plucked the remainder. “I…repurpose some.”
I rubbed the edge of a paper parcel that was made from really nice material. The shop’s logo was foiled in gold on the side. The ribbons were satin and soft. It was a far cry from the cheap brown sacks that the supermarkets used.
“Well, I guess I could show you.” Arabella fidgeted as she moved across her bedroom.
I was about to tell her that I didn’t need to know—a nicer way to say I didn’t care—but when she produced a key to the locked closet, I stifled the objection.
I’d already snooped in her closet, disgusted by how many outfits hung in pristine rows.
The walk-in had an island that I wiped the locked glass top.
And the rows of shoes probably cost as much as my Camaro.
But the second door adjacent to the closet had made me curious.
Hurrying over, I caught sight of the mess as she shoved open the door and flicked on the lights.
While every room in this opulent mansion was catalog ready should a photography stop by, this was the first place that looked ‘lived in’.
One wall was floor-to-ceiling bins. Confetti chunks littered the floor.
Scissors lay haphazardly in the midst along with a mortar and pestle, and empty bottles for tinctures.
A rolling desk with a sewing machine was pushed to the side, and another wall held a worktable that folded up when not in use.
Which was probably never.
“You have a craft cave,” I said in a hushed tone.
“Grazie mille,” Arabella laughed. “Signora Grimaldi calls it my junk room.”
“This is…” I stepped inside, pulling out the first slid drawer and seeing buttons of all shapes and sizes. “Awesome.”
“Do you like crafts? Or have a hobby?” Arabella asked eagerly.
I shook my head. “Well, kinda. I used to restore vintage cars.”
When I wasn’t changing tires or oil to pay rent.
“That’s so cool!” She leaned against the doorframe. “I wanted to get into woodworking and welding, but Mama put her foot down.”
“Why?” I thumbed through a stack of loose scrapbooking sheets.
Arabella shrugged. “She thought I would burn myself. I’m clumsy.”
She held up her arm and a faded, angry red mark marred the perfectly smooth, deep golden skin.
“Getting into fights with the curling iron?” I teased, plucking half a pipe cleaner off the floor and wrapping around my middle finger like a ring.
“Here, add some sparkle.” Arabella handed me a bead from the same pile on the floor. She held the shiny crystal orb out to me. “No, the hot glue gun.”
The sweet innocence of this girl put a chink in my armor. It was impossible to be grumpy in this bright, glittering mess. There was actually glitter spilt on the side of the space. In the perfectly polished, curated life, this individual had a chaotic secret that instantly humanized her.
I made a mental note to be less grouchy to her. I slid the pipe cleaner ring, now with the shiny bead, back on my finger. “If you ever need help cleaning up in here, just ask.”
“Oh, no, I never clean this space. Just push the mess to the side to start a new mess,” she smirked. “But you’re welcome to join me. Anytime!”
That was where the friendliness clouded over.
I was the hired help, and my hours were bogged down with scrubbing and grinding.
She was still the privileged princess in a mafia family where she had the luxury of whiling away her days tinkering with tubes of glue, sheafs of paper, and reusing designer shopping bags.
Still, so as not to seem cruel, I thanked her as I picked up the trash bag from the bathroom and left.