by Sierra Rose
“Probably because you’re a crook,” she said and stormed out.
Desperate, Bella checked her bank balance, tallied up the bills she’d get in the next few weeks and come up with a plan that didn’t involve lying about her ability to install hardwood flooring. The numbers weren’t good. They weren’t get-evicted bad, but they were discouraging. She could cover her bills for about a month if nothing went wrong. If she didn’t lose her bus pass or need allergy medicine or have any other unexpected expenses that would bottom out the last of her reserves. When the main source of income, the full-time job cleaning at the motel, was gone, all she had left was her side hustle working a cash register and that wasn’t very profitable. She scanned the job ads online and kept coming back to the one for the live-in maid in Phoenix.
She was ready to see the last of Arkansas and this was as good a reason as any. Bella could live in a nicer climate, on what was no doubt a very fancy estate and clean. She knew how to clean, and she knew how to present herself to a prospective employer. Despite her lack of a degree, despite her history of doing menial labor, she knew she was a fast learner, and she probably would have filled out the creeper’s vinyl cat suit nicely since those measurements were close to her own.
She frowned.
Please don’t let this maid job be like that one.
She replied to the ad and then stared at her phone screen, waiting for a response. It made her feel better that this employer, unlike smarmy Batman cosplayer, was too busy to answer his phone instantly. When she did get a call, it was from a woman.
“Hello, this is Greta from Harvey Carlson’s office. You applied for the maid’s position, correct?”
“Yes, I did. Hi, Greta. I’m Bella James. I appreciate your consideration for this job. It sounds like my skills are exactly what you need.”
“Tell me about your work history, then, Bella,” Greta said.
“Well, I’ve been in the workforce since my first food service job at sixteen. The last two years I’ve been employed in the housekeeping department of the Golden Oaks Motel. My successful experience there is coming to an end as the business has been sold to a developer who wants to take it in another direction. Outside the hospitality industry.”
“Oh, I see. Will it be converted to a homeless shelter? I’ve heard of that being done with great success in California.”
“No, I’m afraid not. It will be a for-profit entertainment venue and novelty store.”
“Strip club?” Greta said sagely.
“Yes, I was trying not to say it,” Bella laughed.
“You did an excellent job of trying to spin it. Still, I see why you need a new occupation.”
“I’m sure my current employer could provide a good reference. Especially since he offered to audition me for an opening act. In his office. Alone.”
“He sounds like a total prince. If I weren’t engaged I’d be begging you for his name,” Greta said, and Bella laughed again.
“Will I be working for you? Please say yes.”
“No, I’m only Harvey’s assistant. You’d be living at his estate, and it’s pretty spectacular. You should Google it. It’s been in a lot of the home magazines, too. He’s got a housekeeper who takes care of the staff of three maids, the cook, and the gardener and groundskeepers. You’d only be responsible for the main house, pool house, and guest houses. You wouldn’t have to go near the stables or the conservatory.”
“This is seriously one guy’s home?”
“Yes. One guy. Not even a wife and kids. He was one of Forbes Magazine’s top 30 under 30 a few years ago. I had to hire extra help just to field the emails and letters from beautiful women who wanted to marry him. It went on for six months—there was a gold digger’s frenzy over the man. He didn’t take any of them up on it. He was too busy. That was at his last job. He’s a fixer—changes corporations every two or three years, once he’s implemented a strong plan. Right now he’s at the helm of Bellingford Finance Group.”
“If he was too busy to take his pick of golddiggers, is he ever even home to admire all the houses and grounds and horses?”
“Sometimes. He does travel some, but he’s based in Phoenix. So he’ll be around to appreciate your cleaning. I can promise you he’s not the kind to harass the staff or anything. So you don’t have to worry about him cornering you while you dust the artwork.”
“Thanks. That would be a nice change from Mr. Come Into My Office at the motel. I’ll send you over a copy of my resume if you like, and I hope you’ll consider my application.”
“You don’t mind moving?”
“Not at all. I’ve been looking for a change.”
“Can you tell me a little bit more about your job experience?”
“I’ve scrubbed toilets, dusted, arranged furniture, changed bed linens, and tidied up rooms. I’ve replaced soiled towels and linen, vacuumed carpets, cleaned rooms, swept, scrubbed, waxed, and polished floors. I’ve used powered and scrubbing and waxing machines. I’ve increased SOP efficiency by ten percent by prioritizing and organizing the replacement of soiled towels and linen, vacuuming the carpet, and other daily routines. I work well without supervision. I adapt to new concepts quickly, and I have a passion for multi-tasking and organizing. I have excellent interpersonal and customer service skills. I have deep knowledge of OSHA safety guidelines for housekeeping.”
“I’m impressed. Please tell me more.”
“I’m a very conscientious, hard-working housekeeper. I’ve ensured a comfortable, clean atmosphere for hotel guests. I know the importance of top-quality service and maintain a professional, courteous attitude at all times.
“I’ll be in touch, Bella, it’s been good talking to you,” Greta said.
“Thank you so much for this wonderful opportunity.”
Greta hung up, and Bella let out a long breath. She didn’t know if Greta was going to give her the job or not. The job sounded fabulous. Bella hoped she got it for more reasons than just the money. Fabulous location, boss who was too busy and too honest to try and molest the staff, and she really thought Greta was nice.
Maybe she could make new friends out there. It could be a fresh start. Bella had been lonely since her sister Madison moved away and she didn’t have any close friends.
Chapter 3
When she got an email the following morning that said she was hired, and her boarding pass would be sent to her email address within the hour, Bella whooped and started stuffing clothes in her duffel. The black dress and shoes went in, some pajamas and her jeans, and a couple of tank tops. She’d never been to Phoenix or any other desert, and it would be fun to explore.
Phoenix was in the south-central portion of Arizona, and about halfway between Tucson to the south and Flagstaff to the north. The metropolitan area is known as the Valley of the Sun, due to its location in the Salt River Valley. Bella thought about the breathtaking views of Phoenix’s picturesque desert vistas and dramatic mountains.
I’m so ready for this!
She put her toiletries and makeup in a plastic bag, then had to look up airline regulations about liquids because she’d never flown before either.
She called Madison to tell her the news.
“That’s fantastic, babe. Let me know you get there safe and sound. It’s got to be better than the motel. And don’t worry, he’s probably some old dude that needs you to make his Cream of Wheat and lay out his blood pressure pills.”
“I wasn’t hired as a nurse or cook. I’m his housekeeper.”
“Okay, I have to go. Crouton duty calls! Love ya,” Madison said and hung up.
Bella’s boarding pass came through and the flight was in five hours. She called the Golden Oak and the convenience store to let them know she wasn’t coming, and she tried to figure out how to pack up everything and get it to Phoenix. Bella ran down to the grocery store and got some cardboard boxes. She packed her books in one, her clothes and mementos in another, and her kitchen stuff and pictures and refrigerator magnets in the same
big one as her towels and sheets. She’d rented the apartment furnished, so she just had to find a place to store her big box. She took a chance and called Kelly, the nice manager from the convenience store. Kelly agreed to let her keep the box in a basement storage cage in her building for a few months, at which time Bella would either send money for it to be shipped out to Phoenix or else the contents would be donated to Goodwill.
The airport seemed huge and busy, and Bella made it to her seat on the plane—a wide leather seat with plenty of legroom and a TV screen set in the seat back ahead of her. Excitedly, she stared out the window at the clouds below, watched part of a superhero movie on the screen and drank free soda and ate pretzels.
After a nap, she woke when the plane was landing. Bella collected her boxes from baggage claim—slightly battered and dirty—and loaded them onto a rental cart and out to the taxi lane. She took a cab to the estate. She’d expected grandeur, but the wrought iron gates, the stunning backdrop of Camelback Mountain, the sprawling Spanish-style villa were more than she could take in. Her jaw dropped. She snapped a photo, postcard style, and sent it to her sister in Tulsa because the view was not to be believed. Especially for a girl who’d grown up in Arkansas.
A woman came out to meet her and directed a young man to carry the boxes to the staff guest house. “I am Mrs. Marks, the chief housekeeper of the Carlson Compound where you find yourself now. I’ll give you a tour of the house and grounds after you’re settled. You’ll find your uniform in the closet,” the woman said crisply, striding ahead to lead Bella to her new home.
The staff guest house was a big ranch style building in stucco behind the pool house. Which meant that Bella got to walk past the massive crystalline blue pool with its rocky ledge and tumbling waterfall feature. Just looking at it was refreshing in the oppressive heat. She was handed a key and unlocked a heavy wooden door to reveal a lovely, cool room with Spanish tile floors, a double bed made up with fluffy white linens, an arched window with wooden shutters to block out the midday heat. She set her duffel bag on a chair and thanked Mrs. Marks.
She accepted her boxes from the young man, and they left her alone. By the chair at the window was a floor lamp and a small table, a set of shelves waiting for her books and photographs. A flat screen TV hung on the wall opposite the bed, and a dresser stood beneath it to hold her clothes. In the closet, she found a modern maid’s uniform of an olive green tunic trimmed in black with a white collar, a pair of narrow black trousers. She put them on with her tennis shoes and splashed her face, slicking her hair back into a neat ponytail.
Bella reported to Mrs. Marks, who surveyed her appearance with a curt nod of approval and conducted her not to a linen closet or supply room, but up the shallow tile steps of a curving staircase with a wrought iron banister. Mrs. Marks rapped on intricately carved double doors, and a man bade her to enter.
“Mr. Carlson, may I present to you our latest addition to the staff, Ms. Bella James. Ms. James, this is our employer, the eminent Mr. Carlson to whom we all owe our livelihood and comfortable home. Mr. Carlson likes to interview each employee upon arrival to determine if you will suit. Ring when you’re through and I’ll give her a tour, sir,” Mrs. Marks said, dropping an actual curtsey before she withdrew.
Bella gaped. First at the man, because she hadn’t actually gotten around to Googling him, and it turned out he was shockingly, breathtakingly gorgeous. So handsome—it was like her brain whirred to a stop and could only chirp ‘so handsome’ like an annoying parrot. Had she said it aloud? He was smirking. The hot guy was smirking at her so it was possible she’d said it. Should she pretend to have Tourette’s? Or that she had forgotten some kind of important medication? She couldn’t quit looking at him. Sandy hair, bright blue eyes that were too intense, broad shoulders and a tan. He was wearing a designer suit and tie. Sitting behind a desk bigger than most of her apartment back in Arkansas, and there were three computer monitors behind him and all sorts of other electronics and papers everywhere. It looked really intimidating that this was his home office. Where she came from a home office was a desktop Dell and a printer, maybe a fax machine. This was like some kind of top-secret command center from a movie.
She was painfully aware that she hadn’t put on eyeliner, and the whole baggy tunic thing was not flattering to her. She felt the distinctive zing of attraction, warmth flooding her face. Then she bit her tongue on purpose because this was her boss. A billionaire CEO whose toilet she’d been hired to scrub. This was not a prospect. This was not some guy offering to buy her a beer at a bar. She reminded herself that the job might not be beneath her, but this guy was way out of her league. Not to mention the ethical issues of flirting with or sleeping with the boss. Nope. She had a degree to finish, and her ambitions would not be derailed by a handsome face. So handsome. So handsome, her brain chirped.
“It’s good to meet you, Ms. James.”
“Thank you. It’s good to be here. I’ve just arrived from Arkansas.”
“Ah, what did you do there?”
“I was a cleaner, worked in housekeeping for a motel. It paid the bills while I work on my business degree. Unfortunately, the motel is closing down and I needed a new job. Your assistant Greta was good enough to speak with me about this vacancy.”
“I see. Are your accommodations satisfactory?”
“Yes, thank you. They’re lovely. I—you don’t need Cream of Wheat, do you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing, you just…nothing. I imagined myself working for someone older who needed his medication attended to and, um, Metamucil and stuff. I apologize. In fact, I wish I hadn’t said it.”
“Clearly, that isn’t the case. Here is your cell phone. Keep it on you at all times. When you’re off duty it can be a personal use phone as well. All the staff is on shared data so you shouldn’t run out. Just keep the phone charged and with you.”
“In case of what?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“An emergency.”
“And what would be a housekeeping emergency? Like if you spill something and need me to come wipe it up?” she teased.
“I might need Metamucil, you never know,” he said with a devastating grin.
Oh goodness. So handsome. So handsome! It was like her brain short-circuited. It was why she was fumbling with her words. Why couldn’t he have been an old man with no looks?
“I’ll keep the phone in my pocket. It’ll be with me at all times unless I’m in the shower.”
Harvey Carlson looked her up and down appraisingly in a way that made her blush, “No, you don’t have to take it in the shower.”
“I look forward to working with you. For you, I mean. Cleaning your floors and—I really haven’t done very well here, have I? I usually pride myself on being well-spoken but, I guess I’m a little intimidated. I’m not used to all this—” Bella gestured to indicate the wealth, the opulence.
“I’m sure you’ll settle in just fine. Did you say you were working on a business degree? I did mine at Wharton.”
“I took some classes at the community college. I’m on my third semester.”
“Very admirable of you, ambitious, too. What are you interested in doing eventually?”
“I’d like to do something in marketing or advertising, probably. Although my advisor kept saying I should do logistics management because I’m a problem solver. I was the total efficiency expert at the motel,” she smiled in recollection.
“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime, Ms. James.”
“Bella,” she said.
“That’s a lovely name.”
“Thank you. Your grounds and pool are very beautiful,” she said, changing the subject by stating the obvious.
“Thank you, I enjoy them. There’s a staff pool behind the guesthouse where you’re staying. I hope you take advantage of it. There’s also a gym in the basement there that you’re welcome to use. A fit, healthy staff is more focused and energetic, I find.”
“That’s e
xcellent. I’ve read about productivity increases from simple things like standing desks or yoga ball seating, so fitness initiatives would probably provide a boost as well, Mr. Carlson.”
“Yes, that’s the idea. I’m impressed,” he said, “And you can call me Harvey. Everyone does.”
“Not Mrs. Marks? She curtsied.”
“Yes, she’s old school. I’ve only just got her to stop singing God Save the King every time I enter a room,” he joked, and she giggled.
“Should I just hum Hail to the Chief under my breath to make her feel more comfortable?” Bella retorted.
“Yes, in fact, that may be just the sort of emergency to spur a cell phone call to you. I need someone at the main house to hum ironically. So difficult to find a good ironic hummer these days. Everyone’s so earnest.”
“It’s the hipsters. I went out with a guy last summer who talked about nothing but his new Hamilton soundtrack. On vinyl. It was the most hipster thing I ever heard in my life. I bet he plays it on a hand-crank phonograph to make his organic heirloom tomatoes grow better.”
“Wow. I thought it was just beards and skinny jeans.”
“Oh, there is so much more, and it is so pretentious. And that’s in the Midwest, so I can only imagine what it’s like in urban areas and on the coast.”
“I don’t travel in those circles, but evidently, it’s an epidemic. Wait—you don’t weave your own cloth or anything, do you?”
“No. I mean, I did build a spinning wheel out of old wood pallets and use it to spin my rooftop garden flax harvest into linen thread and sold it at the co-op for some kale and bean curd…” She laughed.
“That was surreal.”
“Thanks. I came up with it myself. No, I don’t weave. I don’t say ‘locavore’ or talk about craft beer like it’s a religion either.”
“Remind me to stay out of the dating scene in Arkansas. I wouldn’t survive.”
“You’d be mobbed. You don’t have a scraggly beard, and you don’t sound like an unemployed self-righteous douchebag.”