Chapter 41
Lucy
I’ve cleaned and restocked the other two places.
One’s two streets away and the other is up the hill.
I can’t put off going into Dirk’s apartment any longer.
I have just two hours to vacuum, dust and tidy his place, clean the bathrooms and kitchen and prepare him a meal – all without him knowing it’s me. Pretty sure he’s out. Hope so.
I take a deep breath for courage as I knock on his door. There’s no answer. Good.
“Mrs West’s housekeeping service,” I call, then let myself in.
I get the shock of my life. Dirk’s not there, but a young man is. Jamison? Last time we met, he was in a tux, schmick and fit. This time he’s dishevelled, but it’s definitely him. He has the same build as Dirk, lean and tall and strong.
He’s at the dining table, papers spread all over it, a laptop open in front of him. He stares long and hard at me, then frowns.
“Don’t mind me,” I say. “Housekeeping services. I can work around you. Just ignore me.”
And he does. Phew. I can’t pretend total indifference. Dirk’s not untidy, but he does live here, unlike when I unpacked his things with Donna a while ago.
I strip his bed and change the sheets; hang his suit coat back in the cupboard; gather up his dirty clothes and sheets and towels and run them through the closet washing machine as I vacuum and dust.
I wipe the surfaces in the bathroom, straighten his aftershave. The scent is alluring. I miss the man, wonder if he’ll accept my proposal, hope he will, wonder what will become of us, wonder about the young man at the dining table, worry about the sale of my apartment, then head to the kitchen.
The apples in Dirk’s fruit bowl are going soft. I duck down to my place and retrieve flour and lard to make a proper pie crust. His kitchen is as beautifully equipped as I remember. There’s even a fluted pie dish; the chopping board is clean and new; and the knives are sharp.
The pie is on the lower shelf of the spacious oven in a flash, a chicken casserole baking above it.
I smile at the irony of it. Dirk hated all the free casseroles in Franklin, but in town, he pays for them.
And I’m his biggest suitor yet. I don’t woo him with sympathy and baked items, like the good widows of Franklin.
I’ve offered him diamonds, with casserole and apple pie on the side.