“Sure.”
Presley Ann followed Lydia into the kitchen, her five-inch Jimmy Choos clicking daintily with each step. “Have a seat.”
The young woman took a seat at the table in the breakfast nook and crossed her legs so her four-hundred-dollar shoes were displayed advantageously.
Lydia made eye contact with Presley Ann and said, “Tell me how you came to be involved with the agency that sent you here.”
“My aunt owns it.”
Great.
“Do you have any experience as a maid or housekeeper?”
“Um, no.” The way she said it, as if that fact should be obvious, made Lydia’s heart sink. “But I can handle anything you can throw at me. I guarantee it.”
Lydia doubted that. She needed the help though, and Presley Ann needed to know what was expected of her if she was going to stay on.
Lydia slid a list across the table. Presley Ann held the list in her freshly manicured fingers. She scanned the first page quickly, almost dismissively. She flipped to the next page and looked it over even quicker, and barely glanced at the third page at all.
Lydia said, “I’ve written up a schedule for us. We will be working in different areas of the house each day. I’ll need you to start work promptly every day at seven thirty—”
“Seven thirty! I was told I could start at nine-ish, like I did today.”
Lydia shook her head firmly. “I’m sorry. I need you to start every day at seven thirty.”
Presley Ann’s bottom lip pouted out a little, but Lydia said nothing and waited for her response. The lip must have worked for Presley Ann because she held out for a good fifteen seconds before caving in. “Oh, all right. Seven thirtyish.”
Lydia smiled and said, “If you want the job, you start every day on time at seven thirty. I’m sorry, this is not a party you can arrive to fashionably late. I need help that is reliable. If you can’t—”
“Okay. Okay. I’ll start at seven thirty every day. I want the job.”
Lydia didn’t understand why. Everything about Presley Ann reeked of entitlement and money. She looked as though she’d just come from a salon. She was wearing a tan silk top and matching linen pants. Her shoes looked pristine.
Lydia shook her head as though to clear it. “Let me just make sure that you and I are on the same page.” Because I feel like someone just yelled “action” on the set of The Twilight Zone. “Clayton Carlisle contacted an employment agency in Divine to send someone to help me. I need help cleaning and maintaining the house. They would dust, vacuum, do laundry, sweep floors, help with meal prep. Things like that.”
Presley Ann nodded. “Yes. That’s me. I’m your girl.”
Oh, Lord. Have mercy on me. “Okay. We’re running a bit late now, so let’s get started.”
“Can you show me my room so I can bring my things in? My car will get hot and I don’t want my cosmetics and things exposed to the heat.”
Lydia couldn’t help it when her eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry?”
Presley Ann smiled, and Lydia detected the barest hint of a condescending tone when Presley Ann said, “My room. The room I will be sleeping in.”
“I’m sorry Miss—”
“Woodworth.”
“Miss Woodworth. I think there has been a misunderstanding. I was led to believe you live in Divine.”
“I do.”
“No room has been prepared for you. We do not need live-in help. That was the understanding. You are to arrive every morning at seven thirty and leave at the time that you and I mutually agree on. You would not be living here.”
“No?” Presley Ann looked disappointed, and her tone was a little whiny. She sighed and slumped. “That’s not what I—all right. I’ll stay at my house and arrive here every morning at seven thirty.”
Lydia was impressed that the tenacious young woman had not given up already. Lydia could only assume she was doing her best to get some kind of toehold on the Rockin’ C Ranch. What her ultimate goal might be was of great concern to Lydia. There was no doubt she was tall, thin, and very beautiful. With no ring on her finger, Lydia suspected she was there prospecting for a husband.
“If you’re concerned about your luggage, you can put it in the entryway and then take it with you when you leave this evening.”
Presley Ann’s eyebrows arched. She glanced at her watch and did the math. “Evening?”
Lydia ignored the comment and forged ahead, figuring today’s workload would make or break her. Either way, stuff had to get done.
“Can you work in those shoes?”
“I sure can.”
Lydia remembered her first day at the Oasis Café, twelve grueling hours in flat heels, and actually felt sorry for Presley Ann for a moment. “Okay. Tomorrow, you may want to wear something a little lower. Your feet will probably hurt by the time you leave today. Go barefoot if you want.” Presley Ann bit her lip daintily and nodded.
Lydia took a straightforward tone with her and explained everything that was needed as clearly as possible, taking her from room to room and waiting for her as she negotiated the stairs. She didn’t want to be accused of talking down to the society girl and so explained all the chores and gave her ample time to ask questions. She didn’t ask any.
“All right. Go ahead and get started. I’ll check with you in a few minutes. I have to start lunch. You are welcome to join us for the meal.”
“Why, thank you—” Presley Ann replied, ending on a questioning note.
“Sorry. I’m Lydia.”
“Thank you, Lydia.” For the first time in thirty minutes Presley Ann looked excited about something, namely the prospect of having lunch with the Carlisle brothers.
Great. Just wait until I get my hands on Clayton.
The vacuum cleaner switched on in the family room where she’d directed Presley Ann to start, and she went into the kitchen to start lunch. After a few minutes, it sounded like the vacuum wasn’t moving, so she walked over to the family room to check on Presley Ann. She was moving the furniture back in place. Lydia nodded as she wiggled and scooted the couch back to its original spot. Efficient. Get those areas done first and then vacuum the rest.
Lunch was started when Presley Ann came in the kitchen and said, “The vacuuming is all done.”
“Downstairs? Good, then go vacuum upstairs.”
“Oh…okay.”
Because she paused, Lydia decided to verify the work. “Did you vacuum in all the rooms downstairs, besides the family room? The office, the dining room, the front living room?”
Presley Ann’s shoulders drooped, and she picked at the corner of a nail. “No.”
“We need to do it all, including the baseboards.”
Presley Ann’s mouth popped open to argue, but then she snapped it closed. “All right. Can you please show me how the attachment thingy works for the baseboards?”
“Sure.” At least she was asking nicely. Lydia showed her how to disassemble and reassemble the vacuum cleaner attachments then went back to work in the kitchen preparing a dessert.
The vacuum cleaner whirred and ran for half an hour, and Lydia felt like Presley Ann had to have accomplished something in that amount of time. She walked in the dining room and could still plainly see the layer of dust accumulated under the table, though the chairs were now back in their original spots.
There were tracks from the vacuum only in the main walking areas of the plush carpeting in there and in the living room. Feeling a little more put out with each room she visited, Lydia finally entered the family room, where she found Presley Ann looking at a family photo album.
Lydia marched to the couch she’d seen Presley Ann pushing back into place and moved it out of the way with one mighty tug. She stared at the tile floor underneath and then looked at Presley Ann, who appeared slightly worried.
Lydia squatted down and ran her fingers through the thick layer of dust and then held them up for Presley Ann to see.
“I took time out of my morning to m
ove all this furniture to make your first day a little easier. You moved it all back without vacuuming under any of it, didn’t you?”
“It’s not really that big a deal, is it?”
Lydia dusted her hands off and said, “Yes. It is a very big deal. It is the reason I asked for a helper. I need help. I’m sorry, Presley Ann. You seem very nice but I don’t think—” Lydia removed her phone from her pocket.
Presley Ann trotted over to her. “Please, please, please! Don’t fire me! My aunt will kill me! I promise I’ll do better. I’ll dress for the job tomorrow. I’ll shorten my nails tonight and, and I’ll be here on time, too. Please don’t fire me!”
Lydia doubted that she was going to work out, but she seemed very sincere. “Okay. I’m going to give you until next Wednesday to prove yourself, that’s a full week. That’s all the time you should need for me to know if you can handle this job. But you’re going to have to actually do the work.”
“I promise, I’ll prove myself,” Presley Ann said confidently.
Lydia had serious reservations about that. “I will be working alongside you at times, but you are going to have to do the work. No more shirking,” Lydia said as she turned and walked back toward the kitchen. She caught the nasty look Presley Ann gave her in the mirror hanging on the wall.
She turned to look back at Presley Ann, but she had already schooled her facial features into the same innocent wide-eyed look. “I promise I’ll do better.” Lydia knew exactly what she’d do better at.
“Please redo the vacuuming then dust downstairs. We’ll do upstairs after lunch, which will be in about twenty minutes.” Lydia planned to supervise Presley Ann much more closely up there, which would mean getting a late start on supper preparations.
Returning to the kitchen, Lydia couldn’t help but ponder Presley Ann’s real purpose in being there. Her aunt must have seen this as Presley Ann’s opportunity to snag a rich husband. She wondered how Chance and Clayton would react to her.
Her phone went off as she was about to turn the mixer back on. She looked at the message from Chance.
“How is your house help working out?”
She typed her response. “Disappointing so far. I’m not sure she is going to work out. I gave her a week, but I doubt she will last more than a day or two.”
Moments later his next message arrived. “Is she slow?”
“A little lazy. Entitled. I’m not sure she came to work at all.”
“What do you mean, baby?”
“You’ll see.”
“If she doesn’t work out, we’ll find someone who will. We’ll be at the house in about twenty minutes.”
She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “See you then.”
* * * *
Chance could sense Lydia’s frustration the moment he walked in the back door and laid eyes on her. Her hair had been pinned up neatly, out of her way, when she’d delivered their morning snack earlier, but it looked like it had slowly unraveled over the course of the morning and she hadn’t noticed.
Except for the fact that she was obviously in a snit over something, he thought she looked even more beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes snapped with anger as she stalked back into the kitchen from the dining room.
“Hey, baby. You okay?”
“Oh!” She jumped and put her hand to her lips. “Hi, Chance. I’m sorry.” Her shoulders slumped wearily as she came to him. “My mind was elsewhere.”
“You didn’t sound pleased when I texted you,” he murmured before pressing a kiss to her temple. He brushed a curl from her forehead as he looked into her eyes.
“I guess I’m not good at supervising the help. Every time I turn my back she’s sitting down or goofing off. We didn’t accomplish near what I wanted to this morning.”
“First-day jitters?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. If I could get any work out of her I might be able to tell. I’m sorry, if you can give me another five minutes, I’ll have lunch on the table.”
Chance smiled at her and rubbed her tense little shoulders. “That’ll give me time to check my e-mail in the office. You take your time. We’re not on a strict schedule around here.”
“Okay.” Lydia smiled up at him and said, “Maybe I expected too much from her on her first day. There was some confusion, too. She thought she was going to be staying here on the ranch.”
“Huh?”
“Yes. She asked to be shown to her room.” Lydia did not look happy about that.
“I doubt that was what she was told, but I’ll ask Clayton about it. He should be in any minute.”
“I’ll tell him you’re in the office.”
Seeking to reassure her, Chance pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, “Give it some time, baby. Maybe she’ll settle in okay.”
Softly, she replied, “Maybe so. I’m happy to see you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. He liked very much that she went to him for comfort. He squeezed her close and smiled broadly when she tipped her face up for a kiss, which he gladly gave. Her warm hands slid up his back, and she felt delicate in his arms as she yielded to him, allowing him to take the kiss a little deeper. A tremor rippled through her as he held her, and he sighed as she melted against him. Being near her was comfort for his soul.
Any challenges they’d had that morning, including the confrontation with Kade Parker, were nothing when compared with holding her close. He and his brother had approached Kade, knowing something was up when the man never came to get a kolache from Lydia’s basket. There had to be a reason he’d avoided her in their presence. There was something shifty about Parker that Chance was beginning to wonder about.
Robert Martin had been watching him from inside the barn that morning and had then told Chance and Clayton what he’d seen. Later that afternoon, they overheard Parker making a rude comment to Jim Cappell about Lydia. Jim had shut him down before he could finish what he was saying, but the damage was done. Chance and Clayton confronted him and told him to eat on his own until he could apologize and speak to Lydia with respect.
Knowing she was anxious to get the meal on the table, Chance brushed a parting smooch against Lydia’s lips, wishing it was the end of the day instead of only lunchtime. She opened her eyes, and he was pleased by the dazed look there and the way she continued to cling to him.
She blinked her eyes and released him with a chuckle and said, “Well, everything is right with my world now. You go check your e-mail and I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.”
“Okay, baby. No rush. It smells delicious, by the way.”
Lydia smiled and said, “I made you dessert, too.”
“Yum,” he murmured with a growl as he nibbled at her neck and made her squeal.
“Hey Lydia, I finished with the—Oops! Sorry about that!” The voice was anything but sorry sounding.
Chance looked up and caught his first glimpse of the young woman who must be the source of Lydia’s frustration. Now he understood Lydia’s lack of confidence in her new help. He wasn’t one to make snap judgments about people, but she didn’t seem the type to sign up for a job as a maid.
Lydia sighed and indicated the blonde, roughly in her mid twenties, who looked dressed for an afternoon at the country club and not for a day of house cleaning. “Presley Ann Woodworth, meet Chance Carlisle.”
The name explained a lot. She was probably one of Doug Woodworth’s daughters and well acquainted with the country club in Morehead. Doug Woodworth owned several area department stores, including Stigall’s.
Lydia didn’t make eye contact with him, but Chance could see her frustration as Presley Ann sauntered boldly to him and shook his hand.
“Mr. Carlisle, it is such a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she purred as she clung to his hand longer than she needed to.
“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Woodworth.”
Lydia reminded Presley Ann to redo the family room, and Chance hid his amusement as she sashayed out of the room.
“Lyd
ia, I’ll be in the office if you need me.” She smiled at him and nodded, seeming relieved that he didn’t linger over the introduction. He glanced into the family room as he walked by and shook his head in disgust. Presley Ann maneuvered the vacuum cleaner like she’d never seen one before and was afraid to touch it, while wearing heels that were as high as skyscrapers.
Both he and Clayton had seen her type show up at the ranch before, looking for any excuse to ingratiate themselves. He couldn’t wait to see Clayton’s reaction to Presley Ann.
Sitting at his desk, he turned on his laptop. He patted his pockets and the papers littered on his desk looking for his reading glasses and thought about the business he needed to take care of that afternoon. Lydia had mentioned that morning that the kitchen needed some new tools that she’d have to order online. She needed her own laptop and access to a bank account for her own personal spending as well. It was satisfying to think about taking care of her and providing what she needed and prayed that things worked out between the three of them.
“Hey,” Clayton said as he walked into the office and plopped in his chair. He rubbed his face with his hands and asked, “Did you get a load of who is helping Lydia?”
“Yep. Good work, there, Clayton.”
Clayton groaned and replied, “I should have listened to you when you said to call Grace. That’s Doug Woodworth’s daughter, isn’t it? I’ll bet Lydia is really pissed at me.”
Chance leaned back in his chair and propped his boots on the corner of his desk. “I can’t believe you didn’t even ask Dorothy who she was going to send. Did you tell her that the help could live on the ranch?”
“No. I remember Dorothy asking about that and I said all of that stuff was going to be up to Lydia, but I never said that was what we wanted.”
“Well, she came prepared to move in.”
Clayton had the good sense to look sheepish. “I’ll bet that went over like a lead balloon with Lydia.”
“She looked damned frustrated when I walked in earlier. Lydia seems to like a tightly run ship and I wonder how long Society Girl is going to last.”
“Probably until she breaks a nail.”
“You know why she’s here, right?”
The Divine Creek Ranch Collection Volume 3 Page 71