What Remains

by Sandra Miller

  Somehow she had worked her way through it and managed to resurface to the land of the living. The acceptance into the graduate program at UMass had been a huge catalyst for her rebound, as well as the job offer from Mr. Richards as a live-in maid. The way everything just sort of fell into her lap led Tessa to believe the opportunity had been divinely sanctioned. So with renewed vigor, she cleaned up her act; lost the weight she had gained from her nightly visits with Ben and Jerry, and listened to hours of motivational tapes until she felt brain-washed enough to be passionate about life again.

  It was indeed time to let her children go pursue their own dreams without concerns for their mother weighing heavy on them. Tessa was determined to piece together some semblance of a future without them. She owed it to them for sticking by her side through everything, and never complaining.

  Finally, feeling her eyes close from sheer exhaustion, she reminded herself now was not the time to wallow in regret. Four-thirty would be here soon, and in just a few short hours she would meet this Vlad the Impaler and face whatever was to come.

  Chapter Two

  Arriving at five: thirty precisely, Tessa Maguire was thankful she had left early. The rural two-lane road twisted and turned, making it difficult to maneuver in the dense early morning fog. Twice she had passed the entrance to the estate assuming it was a cemetery because of the gothic iron fence that seemed to go on forever, and the dramatic gates that were obviously locked and flanked by massive stone gargoyles. Finally on the third pass, she decided to take a chance and pulled up to what looked like the entrance to purgatory, and found an ornate brass plate embedded in the masonry with the words, Collins’ Estate. A call box was directly beneath it.

  Rolling down her window and pushing the button marked ‘call’, Tessa held her breath and waited for someone to answer. Although a voice never appeared, after several moments, a loud buzzing sound was heard, and she watched as the gates rolled back and she spiritually prepared herself for the attack that was surely forth coming from a pair of hell hounds. They never appeared.

  In the rearview mirror, Tessa watched them close behind her, which was a little unnerving. Her trusty Volkswagen had gotten her out of a lot of tough spots, but there was no way it could burst through an iron gate if the need arose.

  The long drive paved with cobblestone winded up a hill lined with ancient trees whose limbs appeared more like knarred fingers as the landscaping lights highlighted them through the mist and the darkness of early dawn.

  It truly was the perfect setting for a Horace Walpole novel, she mused, trying to find anything to keep her mind off the anxiety that was mounting. It was easy to imagine a young heroine held captive high in a hidden tower by a mad protagonist, which might be exactly her fate if their first conversation was any indication. Okay, she may not be held captive, but forced into indentured servitude was a definite possibility. Snickering at the thought, Tessa grinned at her over-active imagination. Things were never as bad as she had a tendency to make them out to be. Hopefully, it would be the case this time, although she was harboring some pretty serious misgivings.

  Eventually, the driveway ended in front of what looked like a four car garage, although the fog hid everything beyond the forth bay. Turning off the lights and shutting off the engine, she chose to sit quietly for a few seconds to try and convince herself that there was nothing to be nervous about. Still, questions continued to pop into her mind.

  What would Mr. Richards think of her? Obviously he was a man of great wealth. Would he judge her merely on the condition of her aesthetically challenged car, or the fact that everything she owned could be shoved into it? She was a woman of a certain age now, who should have had her financial affairs in order; a home of her own, a shiny new vehicle, at the height of a career with a nice fat 401K. Yes, he would judge her; there was no sense in trying to sugar coat things, because she judged herself.

  As soon as she forced her body out of the car, Tessa was met by her two imagined hell hounds that turned out to be two very large, and very sweet Chesapeake Bay retrievers, who immediately began vying for her attention. Her hands were covered with saliva and dog hair before an inpatient baritone voice called out through the mist and ordered them to sit. It was her new employer; she recognized the disdain in his voice. The dogs obeyed immediately and so willingly that she couldn’t help but to kneel down and compliment them on their good manners.

  “Such good boys,” she cooed, scratching behind their ears as they moistened her cheeks with big wet kisses. “What fine gentlemen you are, indeed…”

  It wasn’t until Mr. Richards appeared that Tessa stood and wiped both hands on the legs of her jeans. Extending her palm, she smiled and greeted him.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  Standing at least six-two, he was much more intimidating than she had hoped. It was also obvious that he took the time to work out and keep fit, which was the second strike against, his dismal personality being the first. The third strike came quickly when he refused to accept her hand, so she let drop slowly to her side. Instead of displaying any semblance of politeness, he stood there staring down at her without even a word of greeting. But he didn’t have to say anything. The agitation in his expression said it all.

  “I did say five: thirty, didn’t I?” she tried again.

  With only a nod as a response, he turned and started walking toward the house that once in view turned out to be the largest, most opulent English Tudor mansion she had ever seen. How many rooms were there beneath the slated roof and behind the stained glass windows? Whatever the exact number, it would definitely be a full time job taking care of it. Perhaps a certain degree of maturity was required for a job that size.

  Dang. She was screwed.

  What did he do again? Oh yes, something to do with international finance, his mother had mentioned in one of their conversations. Undoubtedly, managing other people’s investments and money laundering paid quite well.

  Inside the kitchen of the massive home was warm and smelled of coffee and burning logs from the fireplace that stood behind an antique table with intricately carved legs and tapestry upholstered parson chairs. Though it was dimly lit at the moment, she could see the gleam on the expanse of granite that spread along the top of oak cabinetry. It was a beautiful kitchen to be sure, but much too large to be in someone’s home, it belonged in a hotel and capable of producing enough food to feed hundreds of guests with its industrial size stainless steel appliances.

  Although she had never been known for her culinary skills, Tessa found herself impressed, and drawn to the heavy Wolfe gas stove that took center stage, flanked on one side by six feet of white marble, and on the other by a mammoth chopping block. Above them hung an array of gourmet pots and pans of all shapes and sizes. They were serious tools for a serious cook, for sure, and she prayed that her limited repertoire of recipes didn’t seal her already questionable fate.

  Moving to the distant light switch, Mr. Richards turned them on and leaned backwards against the counter. Staring silently, as if he expected her to broach the silence between them, Tessa drew in a breath and began loudly so that her voice would carry across the distance between them, since she chose to make her stand at the stove.

  “Well, I assume you have questions for me,” she began, with her voice echoing.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” Again, there was no attempt on his part to sound cordial. In fact, he was becoming precariously close to being rude. “You told my mother you were forty. I’ve explained to you already, Ms. Maguire, that I am not interested in hiring a college student. I’m especially not interested in hiring someone who would lie to get the job.”

  Leaning backwards against the Wolfe for support, since her knees were beginning to weaken from sheer anxiety of the moment, Tessa folded her arms across her chest. She had driven sixteen hours to get here and had a total of three hours of sleep. It was not a good time to test her patience or her civility; if that’s what he was doing.

  “To
be honest, sir, I don’t know whether to shake your hand or take a switch to you.”

  Looking at her curiously, Mr. Richards frowned, causing furrows to appear between his heavy dark brows.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to interpret. I’m not fluent in southern vernaculars.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, how clumsy of me; I don’t know whether to be flattered by the fact that you think I’m that young, or insulted because you’re calling me a liar.”

  With one corner of his mouth threatening to curve upward into a half grin, the insufferable bully forced it back and continued his surly insults.

  “I rarely have the opportunity to converse with someone so…let’s just say…provincial. But at least you’re versed enough in the English language to translate for me.”

  Tessa felt her jaw fall open, surprised more than anything, by his behavior. She should have told him last night to just forget about the whole thing. It would have been much easier to do over the phone. But she hadn’t, and now she was forced to face him, with a trembling body betraying her need to appear unaffected by his aggression.

  Trying to calm her nerves, she rushed to remind herself that not every confrontation ended in violence. Mr. Richards was not going to harm her. He may not like her, but he had no cause to raise a fist in anger. When was she going to get those memories out of her head and become normal again? Somehow, she had to find the fortitude to stand up and refuse to cower down to this man.

  “Yes, well, aside from cooking up a pretty good mess of hog jowls and ciphering on my fingers and toes, being bilingual is one of my greatest assets.”

  “Is that so,” he commented, with no signs of humor being present in his gaze that was narrow and piercing.

  “Yes, sir,” she purred in an exaggerated Appalachian drawl. “I can ease right into pompous elitism just about any time it’s called fer.”

  “How fortunate for both of us; not everyone is gifted enough to be a smart-ass in two different languages.”

  Tessa grinned slightly, “I was going for insulting.”

  “You succeeded on both counts,” he stated dryly.

  Finding themselves in a verbal impasse, Tessa and Mr. Richards stared, trying to size each other up before continuing their belligerent repartee. When the silence between them became painfully awkward, Tessa decided to speak up, just to finally put an end to the ridiculous situation.

  “Look,” she began in earnest, making sure her voice remained too calm to ever be considered confrontational. “I’m not going to beg for this job, Mr. Richards. Your mother was made fully aware of the fact that I’m a grad student. And if there’s something about my looks, my accent, or just me in general, that you don’t approve of, just say so and I’ll leave with no hard feelings.”

  Having said it without even the slightest bit of trepidation, Tessa was pleased with the fact that mysteriously she had somehow developed a back bone. Never had she spoken so openly before. But then again, she was unaccustomed to being called a liar by a complete stranger.

  “In spite of what you may think, I’m not being unreasonable. I’ve had to hire three different housekeepers this past year alone; all of them students in their twenties. Not only were they inept at their duties, things became unnecessarily complicated.”

  Trying to hide the chuckle threatening to erupt, Tessa covered her mouth and simply nodded in understanding, and she did understand—perfectly. It was evident that he felt the young women were victims of his irresistible charms, and developed romantic interests in him. What a narcissist. It was the perfect time to turn around and walk out of the house. And she would have if she hadn’t been so curious as to how this was going to play out.

  “I can see that your past experiences have already tainted your opinion of me, and to be quite honest, I’m not all that crazy about you either. So why don’t we save ourselves a lot of time and trouble and just agree that this isn’t going to work out for either of us.”

  Even though she tried to not to avert her eyes from his gaze and clue him into the fact that she wasn’t as brazen as she was portraying herself to be, Tessa glanced away for a brief second, before turning back to his expressionless face.

  “Would you mind if I asked to see your driver’s license before making a decision?” he finally asked, the unexpectedness of it causing her to jump slightly.

  Yes, she would as a matter of fact.

  “Not at all,” she lied sweetly. “I would ask the same of you if the roles were reversed.”

  It took several seconds of fishing through the book bag that served as a purse before Tessa could produce it. Since he refused to take the necessary steps to take them from her, she was forced to cross the floor to hand them over.

  After looking at it closely, he finally raised his eyes to meet hers. There was a definite hint of surprise in them.

  “It seems as if I owe you an apology, Ms. Maguire. You honestly don’t look your age. And with your voice being so…”

  Satisfied with a simple apology, Tessa raised her hand to stop him. “It’s okay. I understand…really.”

  “No, it’s not. I’ve offended you without just cause. It’s just that I work eighty hours a week, and don’t have time to keep hiring and firing people. When I come home all I want is my house in order and to be left alone. I’m not looking for a companion or a relationship. I want a housekeeper, period. And I’m hoping a more mature woman will be able to respect those boundaries between employer and employee.”

  “Then I don’t foresee any problems. Because all I want is a job that will get me through grad school. Once my chores are done, you won’t even know I’m here,” she assured him with a genuinely warm smile, while extending her hand once more.

  This time he accepted it, and shook it firmly. The smile he tried to muster up was pathetic, but at least he made the effort to appear pleasant, that was at least a step in the right direction.

  Swinging her shoulders toward the door, Tessa prodded for a more definite answer as to whether he was asking her to stay.

  “Sooo…you want me then?”

  “Yes, Ms. Maguire, I’m officially asking you to stay. Now if you follow me, I’ll show you your suite.”

  “You must really be desperate for a housekeeper then,” she teased, falling into step behind him as he led the way through the maze of rooms.

  “You are correct in assuming that, yes.”

  With her spirits finally beginning to lift, she couldn’t help but to giggle from relief.

  “Well, then I feel much better knowing that we’re both entering into this under duress.”

  Ignoring the barb, her new and official employer continued through the mansion, not bothering to offer a proper tour. The retrievers bounded at her side, as if they were overjoyed that their master had decided to hire her, now if only Tessa could muster up some excitement about the prospect of staying.

  The behemoth rooms stretched on endlessly, each seemingly more beautiful than the other. The library would be her favorite out of all of them, Tessa knew that immediately when she stepped into the two story room that was larger than most of the public libraries she had been to. The décor reminded her of the Library of Congress, on a smaller scale, of course, but not by much. It smelled of furniture polish and old books, the combination was like heaven to her. Desperately, she wanted to climb the spiraling staircase to the ledges of books above to exam the volumes of classics, but knew that any tarrying on her part would not be tolerated by a man in a rush to leave for work.

  Across the foyer, that housed a massive mahogany staircase, was another cavernous room designated as the ‘living area’. As Mr. Richards walked through it, he explained that it was the only room he ever used, aside from the kitchen, simply because of the entertainment area, as he called it, which was basically a theater, just a lot more comfortable with its overstuffed leather sofas and chaise lounges. In the center of the room was a billiards table placed in front of the biggest fireplace she had ever seen. She could literally wal
k inside of it without having to stoop, and it was probably fourteen feet wide. At the far end, near the two-storied stained glass window was a grand piano, not a baby grand, but the real thing, with its rich cherry finish catching the soft first light of early morning sun.

  As they continued on past the living area and down a long hallway that led to the very back of the mansion, Tessa caught sight of what looked like a brass cage, as she approached and stood directly in front of it, it was evident that it was a private elevator. A glance inside caused her to stop in her tracks. Lined in dark paneling and lit by ornate brass sconces, surely it was the most luxurious amenity imaginable. Hanging down from the wall was a beautiful oil painting that she recognized right away to be one of Winslow Homer’s masterpieces. She never claimed to be a patron of the arts, but because of the art appreciation classes she was required to take to fulfill her Liberal Arts degree, Tessa knew enough to have a favorite artist, and Winslow Homer was definitely one of them.

  “It’s beautiful,” she mused aloud, staring at the painting that was being illuminated by recessed lighting. The lone figure was that of a woman with a child, standing firm against gale winds.

  “It’s an elevator,” Mr. Richards scoffed, stopping only briefly. “I never use it, but it’s a convenient way to get cleaning supplies and laundry to the top floors.”

  “I mean the painting. I love Winslow Homer.”