Chapter 1
Mariah
I’ve seen the Bradshaw estate plenty of times on my television, but I gotta say, the camera doesn’t do it justice. This place is stunning.
It’s not a log home, but has a similar rustic feel. Dark wood, huge windows, lots of stonework. Rugged, but chic in a way that defies explanation.
It’s positioned in the most picturesque of ways, with snow-capped mountain peaks serving as a gorgeous backdrop and a sparkling body of water in the foreground. Every room probably has a breathtaking view, even on dreary, cold winter days like today.
There’s ample space in the circular drive for me to park my little SUV, so I just pick a spot and shut off the engine.
After taking a few seconds to calm my rolling stomach with a sip of ginger ale and a cracker, I climb out and head for what I hope is the front door.
It’s kind of hard to identify, because the house has a number of beautifully furnished outdoor living areas—also depicted on television—and I’m not sure which one is considered the main porch.
I take my best guess based on the size of the door, and ring the bell.
Meeting Deidre Bradshaw in the flesh is both exhilarating and terrifying. Even though we’ve met over Zoom a couple times during the surprisingly expedited hiring process, it’s still surreal to think I’m at the house of a celebrity.
And about to be responsible for feeding her adult son on a daily basis.
The door in front of me is tall and wide, sporting a large window that allows me to see into the foyer. It offers me a few final seconds to prepare when Deidre comes into view, her chocolate lab hot on her heels as she strides toward me.
I still gulp when she opens the door.
“Mariah.” Her smile is wide and welcoming. “Come inside where it’s warm, sweetheart.”
I step onto the gorgeous stone floor and pull in a deep breath of amazingly scented air. I should have known Deidre Bradshaw’s house would smell like a freaking five-star hotel. I take in the soaring ceilings and gleaming wood. “Your home is stunning.”
“Thank you.” She closes the door and wraps an arm around my shoulders, leading me through the house. “I know it’s a little isolated, but we really enjoy living out here.” She gives me a squeeze. “Hopefully you do too.”
I can’t imagine not enjoying it. I liked Moss Creek, Montana, and based on what I saw out my windshield on the drive here, it was strikingly similar to Willow Bend. The town is small but quaint, with a cute eatery or two and a coffee shop I can’t wait to visit.
“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?” She directs me toward a kitchen that nearly makes me swallow my tongue. “Maybe sparkling water?”
I somehow manage not to choke at the sight of her matte black La Cornue range. “I would love sparkling water.”
Carbonation has been my best friend lately. Way nicer to me than coffee—which hopefully changes soon. I miss that particular steaming cup of goodness in the mornings. Tea is fine, but it’s just not the same.
“Perfect.” Deidre urges me into a backed stool situated along a ridiculously sized island, then goes to the double doored fridge built-in to her cabinetry.
After pulling it open, she turns to me with an angled eyebrow.
“What’s your favorite flavor? I have hibiscus, limoncello, peach pear, and cherry blossom. ”
Of course Deidre Bradshaw wouldn’t have a simple lime or orange, and the chef in me wants to try them all.
I’m dying to know the differences between her favorites.
But I definitely can’t consume four different cans—plus that would for sure come across weird—so I go for the one I’m sure I will like. “Limoncello, please.”
Deidre beams at me. “Good choice. That one’s my favorite.
” She pulls the can out and then goes to a cupboard, retrieving a gorgeous stubby-stemmed glass.
It’s tinted a pale green and has an intricately cut design that reflects the light.
After adding a few cubes of ice from some sort of magical undercounter maker, she slides both in front of me. “How was your drive?”
“Not bad at all.” I’d been a little worried, because the weather this time of year can be dicey, and while I do have four-wheel-drive, the snow and ice can still be treacherous. Thankfully, the total trip was under three hours, and not a single flake fell from the sky.
Hopefully that’s a good sign.
“I’m so happy to hear that.” Deidre goes back to the fridge. “Are you hungry? Can I get you a snack before we head over to where you’ll be working and staying?”
I don’t want to be greedy, but the opportunity to be fed—even in just a snacking capacity—by Deidre Bradshaw is too good to pass up. “If you have something on hand, but don’t go to any tr—”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
Deidre starts pulling things out of the fridge and lining them down the counter.
One item after another hits the marble surface.
Cheeses, fancy cured meats, chutneys, olives, pickled vegetables.
Then she moves to the cabinets. When it’s all said and done, there’s more food on her island than I probably had in my apartment total.
And I feel bad that she’s going to put so much work into something I’m likely only going to pick at.
“I just love putting together a good charcuterie board, and it’s one of Ted’s favorite things, so I’m sure he will be happy to come in and help us eat it up.” She pulls out a gorgeous, reclaimed wood slab and pushes it toward me. “You start arranging. I’ll do the chopping.”
As if this whole situation couldn’t get any wilder, now I’m helping Deidre Bradshaw in her kitchen. I didn’t expect to be starstruck—that’s not what me taking this job was about—but I kind of am.
But it’s not just Deidre’s fame that has me feeling weirdly warm and fuzzy. It’s her kindness. The way she’s immediately treating me like I’m important. Like she cares.
My mother’s been gone for years, but she was never particularly motherly.
The boss I left behind in Moss Creek was the closest I’ve had to the kind of affection I’ve seen other people take for granted, and I was devastated to leave that relationship behind.
I don’t want to get ahead of myself—I have a bad habit of doing that and ending up disappointed—but maybe someday I’ll feel at least a little bit that way toward Deidre.
With the two of us working together, it doesn’t take long to get everything assembled, and I’m pretty freaking impressed with how amazing it looks. Definitely way fancier than any sort of snack tray I’ve ever put together for a casual meeting.
But that’s Deidre’s brand. Her tagline is literally “A little bit of fancy never hurt anyone.”
I’m interested to see if her son shares that opinion.
I could probably get used to making fancy charcuterie boards and cooking gourmet meals.
I loved my job at the inn, but meals were kept pretty simple.
Something that most members of the general public would enjoy.
The opportunity to stretch my culinary muscles is appealing.
Almost as appealing as the opportunity to do it in an amazing kitchen. I’m sure Titus’s won’t be as ridiculously fantastic as his mother’s, but it’s gotta be pretty freaking decent, and I’m getting more and more excited about seeing it.
As promised, Deidre’s husband Ted joins us. He must have a sixth sense for when there’s food available, because he appears out of nowhere right as we finish. Like Deidre, he’s kind and personable, and seems happy to have me here.
He also eats enough of the snacks that no one seems to notice I’m not taking a whole lot in. And what I do manage to get down is mostly crackers.
God, I can’t wait for morning sickness to be over.
Once we’re done with our snack, Deidre packs everything up and loads it into a bag, explaining it will give me a head start on feeding her son tonight.
So I guess I’m just jumping in with both feet.
She explains his house is on the same property, but not walking distance away, so I load back into my car and follow behind her side-by-side as she and her dog Gunnar lead the way.
As we go, I see a number of cleared pathways the side-by-side could easily traverse, but Deidre sticks to the gravel lanes, winding me through the three hundred-acre property at a slow enough pace I can take a little of the scenery in as I attempt to memorize the way.
When a house comes into sight, I expect her to pull into its driveway, but Deidre’s side-by-side continues on. We pass another house, and once again she doesn’t slow down. When a third house goes by, I start to wonder how many freaking houses there are on this place.
And who the heck lives in all of them.
By the fourth house, I’m starting to get worried.
Concerned I’m never going to find my way back to the paved part of the lane leading to the road.
It hasn’t been the most complex of drives, but so much of the property is similar, I could easily get turned around.
At least all the houses look somewhat different, so the chances of me showing up on the wrong front porch are slim.
Not none, though.
At least I didn’t think they were none until I get a look at the house Deidre finally stops at, and decide it will be pretty freaking easy to identify.
Like all the rest, it’s gorgeous. Large and sprawling, with an insane number of windows. Unlike the others, every window is covered. Not a single one offers even the tiniest peek at the interior of the home. There’s no landscaping. No outdoor furniture. No signs that anyone actually resides in it.
Despite the warm wood and rich tones of the siding and eaves, the dwelling itself seems almost cold. Clinical.
I pull up beside the UTV, shifting into park as Deidre and Gunnar jump out. She seems just as happy as before, so maybe I’m overthinking this. Looking for problems where there aren’t any.
That would be a freaking first.
Squaring my shoulders, I climb out, shoving away the unease trying to get a foothold in my gut. I walk beside Deidre as she goes to the easily identifiable front door, chatting away about I don’t even know what as she punches a set of numbers into the keypad and lets us in.
Without knocking.
Which is… weird. But maybe Titus isn’t home. Maybe he’s at work and told his mom it was fine to bring me in. He did let her choose who was hired to be his chef, so that could make sense.
I step in behind her, blinking a few times as my eyes try to adjust to the darkness of the space.
“I’ve got a few interviews set up for a housekeeper, so hopefully all this will be taken care of soon.” For the first time since I’ve arrived, Deidre sounds uncertain. Maybe even a little nervous. But I don’t think it’s about her decision to hire me. It’s about my decision to take the job.
Because what in the hell am I looking at right now?
Squalor. That’s what.
The place is a freaking mess. There’s a pile of shoes and boots inside the door with mud crusting off the soles onto the hardwood beneath them.
What I’m guessing is the formal living room to my right is filled with nothing but empty boxes someone has thrown in the general direction of the stack.
On the other side is… an office maybe? It’s got beautiful dark paneling and a coffered ceiling I’d drool over if the rest of the room wasn’t a jumble of random electronic looking stuff.
Deidre moves deeper into the cavernous house and I follow behind, feeling less and less certain of my life choices with every step I take. How can her son live like this? Deidre’s house is so pretty and well-kept and comfortable and this is…
Just depressing.
“I know it’s chaotic in here. Titus is very focused on his work and he tends to forget about other things, so I’m trying to help him get a little more…
” Her eyes fuse to the kitchen and I swear one starts to twitch as she stares at the mess piled across the counters and stacked in the sink. “Organized.”
I don’t think organization is the issue we’re dealing with here. I think what’s going on has more to do with laziness than anything.
And I’m not sure how I’m going to handle that.
Titus might end up getting an earful from me tonight when he gets home from work.
It’s probably not the best way to start off a working relationship, but if I’m going to be living here—and the free room and board was a big part of the reason I took this job—then he’s not just my boss, he’s also my roommate.
And there’s no way in hell I’m living someplace like this.
“When do you think the housekeeper will start?” I lean to peer at the dishes in the sink. It’s mostly bowls with dried cereal fused along the rim and stained coffee cups. Nothing seems to be growing on them, but it’s still gross.
Deidre’s tight smile falters the tiniest bit. “Soon. Very, very soon.”
Given the number of empty water and protein shake bottles strewn across the floor, I’m not sure it will be soon enough. “Can I see my rooms?”
“Yes.” Deidre perks up again. “Absolutely.” She darts off through the house, leading me to the large, open staircase positioned at the center of the structure. “The windows from your space have the most beautiful view of the mountains.”
The upstairs hall curves, circling around the open stairwell. The line of doors off it are all closed, and Deidre gives them an odd look as we pass. I can’t tell if it’s worry or sadness that pinches her features.
Probably fear at how much trash is hiding behind them.
Deidre stops suddenly before we reach the end of the hall. Lifting one hand she points a perfectly manicured finger at a tiny blemish near the ceiling. “I forgot to mention the cameras.”
I squint up at the spot and notice it’s a pretty perfectly drilled hole. “Cameras?”
“Titus and his brothers own a security company, so there are cameras all over the property.” I think she tries to smile, but it looks more like a grimace. “There aren’t any in your room, but they’re in almost every other area of the house.”
Guess Titus is worried his trash will up and walk away if he doesn’t keep an eye on it. “That’s fine. The last place I worked had a lot of cameras too.”
Deidre’s shoulders seem to relax a little as her smile turns more genuine. “I doubt Titus even has them on, but I wanted you to be aware.”
I shrug. If I didn’t run out of here screaming at the state of the house, a few security cameras aren’t going to make a difference.
Is this job turning out to be as perfect as I was hoping for? No.
But nothing ever is.