“Well, come on, then,” fish-face Mona said, waving me over impatiently. “Bring your supplies into the house. We haven’t got all night.”
Everyone stepped aside to make room so I could move clumsily past them, dragging my wheeled cart behind me like some kind of beggar girl. To top it off, I was still limping.
There’s no shame in honest hard work, I told myself as I entered the house. None whatsoever.
It turned out Mona had a three-year-old daughter named Champagne. Seriously. Who named their kid something like that? She was a holy terror too, with an endless stream of demands from which she was never satisfied. No toy or book was good enough. All food and drink landed on the floor. She threw a tantrum over the slightest thing, and I felt sorry for the nanny, who seemed at her wit’s end.
I tried to help her where I could, but mostly I worked on the house. It took me forever to clean that huge McMansion. Mona may claim to have high standards, but from what I could tell, she was a complete slob. I scrubbed and mopped with ruthless intensity as I relived my humiliation on the front porch.
I have nothing to be ashamed of, I reminded myself. They should be ashamed for what they did to me, not the other way around.
When I was done cleaning, it was almost nine, and Mona and her husband still weren’t back from dinner. I put my invoice on her kitchen counter and let the nanny, Taylor, know I was leaving.
“Here.” I dug out a business card and handed it to her. She was only in her early twenties, but I couldn’t help noticing how responsible she was. “I run a maid service. It’s not a bad way to earn some extra money.”
She took my card with raised brows. “A maid service? I’m not sure if I’m interested.”
“No pressure,” I said with a shrug, wrapping the cord for the vacuum cleaner. “Just think about it. You can set your own hours, and there’s a lot of flexibility.”
I didn’t actually need to hire anyone right now, but hopefully I would soon, and good people were hard to find. I figured if she wanted work, I could give her a few hours at first, and then we’d go from there. I’d read online that successful business owners were always thinking two steps ahead.
“Okay.” Taylor nodded, still studying the card. Her eyes flashed up to mine. “I’ll think about it.”
By the time I finally made it home, I was half dead with exhaustion. My arms ached, and my fingers were so stiff I had trouble unlocking the front door to the carriage house. Occasionally after work, I stopped at the main house to see Violet and Daphne, who had moved back home recently, but it was too late tonight.
“Hey, babies. Mama’s here,” I said, coming inside and turning the lights on.
“Kiss, kiss!” Calico Jack squawked. “Kiss, kiss!”
I closed the curtains and made sure the mirror was covered before I went over to the cage to let my parakeets out. I felt guilty when I was gone all day, and I tried to let them out whenever I was around.
I put my hand in the cage, each bird stepping up on it one at a time. So far I hadn’t had to do much training, as both birds were already trained when I got them.
“Kiss, kiss,” I cooed, encouraging the words I’d taught Calico. I stroked his bright green feathers. Quicksilver had already flown over to one of his favorite perches in the room. I glanced up at him. “No chewing, please.” Unfortunately, he liked to chew and had already gone through one perch.
The bad thing about having a small studio home was I couldn’t close off any separate areas for the birds. At least I’d have another room once the interior was finished. My dad had started building the second room onto the carriage house years ago but never completed the project. Despite the cost, I decided to go ahead with it since it would be a perfect office space.
After Calico flew over to see what Quicksilver was up to, I went into the kitchen and grabbed a Kit Kat bar from my chocolate drawer. I usually waited until my birds were asleep before sitting outside to eat my bar, enjoying the night’s quiet, but today had been too stressful.
As I took the first bite, debating whether I should pour myself a glass of wine, there were car tire sounds on the gravel road in front of my house.
I went still. It was kind of late for visitors. An engine turned off, and then a car door closed. Footsteps on the path.
Who could it be?
Glancing at the birds, I moved nervously toward the window and slid the curtain back slightly.
I nearly choked on my Kit Kat.
My ex-husband was standing on my front step.
He knocked.
What on earth? I took another bite of chocolate, chewing rapidly. I usually liked to break my Kit Kat bar into pieces, but I was too distracted by this strange development.
“Claire, I know you’re in there. I can see your car in the driveway, and the lights on in the house.”
I remained quiet, hoping he’d go away.
He knocked again. “Come on, I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”
I swallowed and spoke through the closed door. “What are you doing here?” Pushing the curtain back a millimeter, I took another peek outside and saw he drove the red BMW. “Is Ivy with you?”
“No. I came alone.”
“What do you want?”
“Look, can you open this door so we can talk face-to-face?”
“No. We have nothing to talk about. Go home.”
“I want to see how you’re doing.” He paused. “It’s been a while.”
“I’m doing fine. Now leave.”
“Could you please just open the door?”
I opened it a half inch, not wanting my birds to escape. Their wings had been clipped, but I was still careful. “Go away! I have nothing to say to you.”
His face was right there. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. It was a surprise to see you tonight.”
I didn’t reply.
“Look, can we talk for real? This is ridiculous. Let me come inside.”
“Are you kidding me with this?” Through the trees, I saw a light come on at the back of the main house. It was probably Violet spying on me. Great.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said quietly. “It will only take a minute.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “Give me a second.” I’d hung up a thin curtain to block the front door from my birds and yanked it shut behind me. There was no way I was letting Ethan inside my house.
His eyes stayed on me as I stepped outside. His face was mostly in the shadows cast by the porch light. “Claire,” he said softly.
I was still holding the Kit Kat bar in my hand. “Look, I have no idea why you’re here, and I really don’t care. I just want you to leave.”
“I didn’t know you were working as a maid.”
“That’s why you came here?”
He lowered his voice. “How long have you been cleaning people’s homes?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. And for your information, I’m also a business owner with three employees.” I decided to include myself as an employee, wishing I’d padded the number even more. I should have added Leah and Theo, since neither of them would care.
“I always thought you went back to your old job.” He shook his head. “What happened? I can’t believe you’re really a cleaning lady.” He licked his bottom lip. “Look, do you need money?”
“What?” I went completely still. “What do you mean?”
“Do you need money? I could help.”
I gasped as rage flooded through me. The kind of rage I hadn’t felt since I found out he was cheating with Ivy. My pulse pounded. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He seemed surprised by my anger. “No, I’m not kidding. I want to help.”
“You’re offering me money? Now?”
He nodded. “Yes, of course. I didn’t know your situation was so desperate.”
It was a good thing I didn’t keep a weapon in the house. “You rotten bastard. After everything you’ve put me through, now you show up here and act like you
want to help? Like you give a damn? I don’t want your money!”
“Be sensible, Claire.” He ran a hand through his hair, obviously agitated. And what sucked was I recognized the gesture. He was so familiar to me, everything about him. Even his smell was familiar. “My practice is doing great. I can easily help you if you need it.”
“And what would Ivy say about that?”
“It’s none of her business.” His eyes went to mine earnestly. “Let me help. I want to.”
And there it was. That nerdy grin. Ethan’s good-guy face in full bloom. I trusted that face, loved it with all my heart, and in the end, it had betrayed me.
My jaw clenched. “Fuck. Off.”
“What?”
“I said fuck off!”
Ethan blinked and seemed taken aback. “You never used to talk like that or have a temper. What’s gotten into you?”
“Yes, I’ve changed. I’m not the stupid idiot I was when I married you!”
He let out his breath in frustration and looked up at the night sky. He shook his head slowly. “How did we get here?” He was quiet. “You used to be my best friend.”
“You know very well how we got here.”
He sighed. “Let me know if you change your mind. Like I said, I’m more than happy to help.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
He laughed a little, then turned and walked back to that shiny red car.
The next morning, I went up to the main house to join Violet and Daphne for breakfast. They usually ate around seven thirty, which was a bit early for me, but I didn’t sleep well last night after Ethan's visit and was up earlier than normal.
The two of them were already sitting at the dining room table, Violet reading the newspaper while Daphne studied her phone.
“Claire,” Violet said, eyeing me over her paper. “How nice to see you this morning. It’s been a while since you’ve joined us for breakfast.”
I pulled up a chair and grumbled my reply. I wasn’t exactly a morning person.
“Hi, Claire.” Daphne smiled. She was a year younger than Ivy and me and was the exact opposite of her sister personality-wise. I always thought she was prettier than Ivy, but for some reason, Daphne was shy. I figured it was from standing in her older sister’s shadow so long.
“I noticed you had a visitor last night,” Violet said, lifting her mug of coffee. “Anyone we know?”
Of course she’d noticed I had a visitor. Violet was smart, nosy, and rarely missed a thing.
“It was nobody.” I yawned. I knew she couldn’t see anything back there when the trees were thick with summer foliage.
“Hmm.” She sipped her coffee.
I got up and went over to the dining room’s sideboard, where all the breakfast food was laid out buffet style like a country inn. It was served this way every morning. Violet employed both a part-time cook and a full-time housekeeper.
When I first met her all those years ago, I worried she was marrying my dad for his money. I’d only been in middle school, but I knew what a gold digger was. It turned out I was wrong, and Violet had money of her own. She married my dad for love, and to be honest, they were happy.
I sat back down with coffee and a plate of food.
“Try the marmalade,” Violet said, adding some to her English muffin. “Daphne made it. It’s quite delicious.”
I took the container from Violet and spread some golden marmalade over my toast, glancing at Daphne. “I didn’t know you made jam.”
“It’s just a hobby I started recently.”
I took a bite. It was the perfect mixture of tart and lemony sweet with a hint of something floral. It was unusual but tasty. “This is amazing. What flavor is it?”
“Lemon and rosewater.”
I took another bite. “I can’t believe you made this. Do you think I could get a jar?”
“Of course.” She gave a shy smile. “I plan to make more soon, and I’ll give you some.”
“How’s your maid service coming along?” Violet asked me. “Ivy mentioned the other day that she’s been sending new business your way.”
“Yes she has.” I reached for the creamer, noticing how my arms still ached from last night.
“I’m glad to hear things are settling down between you two.”
After peppering my eggs, I ate with purpose, trying not to think about Ivy or my ex-husband.
“I hear she and Ethan are thinking of trying for a baby,” she said casually.
My hand tightened around my fork as I continued to shovel eggs in my mouth.
Violet sighed. She was originally from the south, and her voice still had a slight drawl to it. “Ivy’s not getting any younger, after all. Now is the time to start if she’s ever going to.”
Ivy and I were the same age. Thirty-two.
“Are you still planning to finish that extra room, Claire?” Daphne asked. “My mom said you were thinking about it.”
I nodded, grateful for the change of subject. “Yes, I am.” I swallowed a bite of food. “In fact, I have a meeting with Doug today. He’s coming by to look at the space and tell me when he can start work.”
“Doug’s coming by?” Daphne’s eyes stayed on me. “What time?”
I shrugged. “Around noon, I think. Why?”
“Oh, I just wanted to ask him something.” She quickly reached for her teacup. “About a house I listed.”
Daphne was a real estate agent of all things. I couldn’t think of a more bizarre job for her. In my mind, real estate agents needed to be aggressive and outgoing, neither of which described Daphne. Still, she seemed to make a living, so she must have been okay at it.
“Doug is such a nice boy,” Violet said, holding her coffee. She smiled at me in a confiding way. “And I think he has a crush on you.”
Doug was a thirty-six-year-old man, not a boy, but Violet referred to everyone younger than her like that.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I didn’t want to admit to Doug’s crush, since I wasn’t exactly interested in him, and I didn’t need Violet trying to push us together. She knew I didn’t date, but I imagined they’d all feel less guilty if I had a man.
I noticed Daphne stiffening at her words.
“And what about you, Daphne? Have you heard back from Logan?” Violet asked.
“Not yet.” She put her cup down. For some reason Daphne didn’t date either. Something her mother was continuously displeased about.
Violet turned to me. “Logan’s father is the head football coach for the Seattle team. He bought some property out here, and from what I’ve heard, he’s building a beautiful home on it.”
“Is that right,” I murmured. I never kept track of rich people who moved to Truth Harbor, but it occurred to me I should probably start. There might be future business there.
“A realtor in Daphne’s office sold him the property recently.” Violet eyed her daughter with pride. “Logan came in with his father, and when he saw Daphne, he immediately asked for her number.”
“That’s great.” I smiled at Daphne. “Say, do you think I could drop off some flyers for Your House Sparkles at your office?”
Her reddish blonde brows came together. “Gosh, I don’t know. You’d have to ask my manager, Dave.”
I nodded, adding it to my mental to-do list.
“You know, the chamber of commerce gives out a welcome packet to everyone who buys property here,” Daphne offered. “You could contact them too.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll head by there today.”
I ran through my daily list in my head. I had two houses to clean this morning, and last night’s laundry needed to be dropped off. I’d recently started a barter deal with the local drycleaner’s, where she washed all our dirty clothes for us, and we cleaned her elderly mom’s home.
Violet gave me a pointed look before picking up her newspaper again. “Don’t forget taxes and insurance on the house are due by the end of the month.”
I sighed, not wanting to think about the large
check I’d have to write.
Every year I owed money for my share of Sullivan House. When my father left it to both Violet and me, I doubt he knew it would turn out this way.
“Is everything all right?” Violet asked. “I’m happy to buy you out, Claire. You know that.”
She’d recently offered to buy out my half of the house, and I had to admit, I was tempted. It would certainly clear up my money problems. I couldn’t do it though. This was my family home. I loved Sullivan House. Where would I live? An apartment in town? Even the cozy carriage house wouldn’t be mine anymore.
When I was younger, I always imagined raising my own family here. After Ethan finished college and we moved back to town, my dad had encouraged us to move in as a way to save money. There was more than enough space for everyone, but Ethan said no, that it was too old-fashioned.
“I’ll send you the bill for the maintenance as well,” Violet told me, flexing the newspaper in her hands as her eyes scanned the page. “We may need to install a new water heater soon.”
“Sure.” I stared at my empty plate, wondering how much that would cost.
The bills were stacking up. I had no choice. My business had to succeed.
Chapter Seven
~ Philip ~
“Chill out, dude, seriously.”
Doug didn’t seem to hear me though, as he continued pacing in front of the maid’s gingerbread cottage. He had a meeting with her about some work she’d hired him to do. The ferry didn’t leave until tomorrow morning, so when he invited me along, saying he wanted my advice about improving his business, I agreed.
“Do you really think I should ask Claire out?” he asked for the tenth time. It turned out this was the real reason he’d invited me today—I was to be Doug’s wingman. “What if she says no?”
“What if she says yes?” I countered. “When it comes to women, you have to be optimistic. Think positive.”
“I don’t know.” His face went into its usual hangdog expression. “I’m not like you. I’m not smart and successful. Women usually turn me down.”
“That’s not thinking positive.”
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