Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love)

by Liza O'Connor

  He shook his head and smiled. “Master Trent changed his mind and had the butler call me with a new time. So sit at your ‘no longer dusty’ dining table and I’ll serve you breakfast.

  She stared at Trent’s driver for a few moments as his words filtered through her panic. They weren’t late. Trent changed the time. Taking in a deep breath, she calmed and retreated to her room-with-no-purpose. When she’d bought her house, she’d dutifully purchased a dining table and chairs for the room next to the kitchen. But eating at a table by herself depressed and bored her, so she always ate in the living room while watching TV.

  Sam brought her a plate of eggs and turkey bacon. He placed it on the dining room table before disappearing back into the kitchen.

  “Is this all mine?” she called out when he didn’t immediately return.

  After a moment, he spoke, sounding as if his mouth were full of food. “Yes, it’s yours.”

  Curious as to why he remained in the kitchen, she rose to investigate. Sam stood at the counter, eating his breakfast.

  “Sam, why aren’t you eating at my table?”

  “That wouldn’t be proper.”

  “You cooked our breakfast; you cleaned the table. That gives you the right to eat sitting down.”

  “Master Trent wouldn’t approve.”

  “God, do rich people live in the dark ages? Master Trent isn’t here. Bring your food to the table you cleaned. Otherwise, I’m bringing my food in here to eat.”

  He sighed and carried his food into the dining room.

  By the way he stabbed his eggs, she classified his state of mind as either angry or deranged. Since he slept in her house and she woke alive, she leaned towards angry. She didn’t have the energy to deal with another angry person. She’d just spent a month with a whole company of angry little Taiwanese men.

  What had she done to piss him off? She knew very little about Sam other than he could get them out alive when caught in a warzone. The few times she’d driven in Trent’s limo before yesterday, she hadn’t paid any attention to the driver. She always focused on the business issues requiring her to visit a customer on those stressful occasions. She felt bad she’d never bother to even learn his name before. “So how long have you driven Trent?”

  “For an eternity,” he muttered.

  She laughed. “Know the feeling.”

  Finally, a faint smile came to his lips and he stopped torturing his food. That gave her the courage to try again. “Do you live at the estate?”

  “Yep.”

  “What’s it like?”

  He frowned and studied her for a moment. “You really want to know?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s a bit like Big Brother, Survivor, and The Bachelor all combined into a never-ending show.”

  Carrie laughed.

  “Seriously. You live in this wing with thirty other people you'd never speak to if you had a normal job. You’ve got over twelve nationalities and multiple ‘levels’ struggling not to kill each other.”

  “Okay, I see the Big Brother comparison, but Survivor?”

  He snorted and crammed a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Surviving is all the household thinks about. ‘Who’s gonna be fired next?’ And there’s always someone looking to make it happen. In my case, it’s the mechanic. He has a son he wants to slip into my job. Always putting slow leaks in the tires so I’ll strand Master Trent somewhere.”

  She grimaced at the potential dangers. “A blown tire could have serious repercussions. Have you told Trent? Because to me, it sounds like someone should fire the mechanic.”

  He shook his head. “We never go to the master with problems. The butler would not only fire me from the Long Island Estate, but he’d see me blacklisted, so I never drove for anyone again.” He consumed a bacon strip in two bites and smiled. “And I love driving power cars.”

  “I’m quite certain Trent wouldn’t fire you for letting him know someone is risking his life just to make you look bad.”

  “The master wouldn’t fire me, but the butler would. We’re supposed to take all our problems to him.”

  She nibbled her toast as she tried to think of a way to help with this very serious problem. “Have you mentioned it to the butler?”

  “No. His job is hard enough without a bunch of whiners working for him. Complaints get you replaced with someone who can ‘get along’. If the mechanic ever succeeds, I’ll lodge a complaint, but I probably won’t be able to prove it. I just have to hope Mars has picked up on the problem during our dinner table conversations.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, when I find a nail pushed into the tread of a wheel, I’ll mention it at dinner and ask the mechanic to spend his evening taking off the tires and checking them just to be safe.”

  “Yes!” Carrie replied with enthusiasm. God, she wished she could do something as clever with certain people at work.

  He stopped eating and looked up in surprise at her outburst.

  “Sorry, I just thought your solution brilliant. I’ve my own difficult co-workers.”

  He nodded, then frowned. “Except you do go to the master.” His stern eyes met her. “You cannot tell him about this conversation, or even that I ate at the same table as you.”

  “I won’t. You have my word.”

  He nodded. “I’m trusting you, because you aren’t one of them.” After taking in the room, his gaze leveled on her. “My parents have a bigger home than this.”

  “Yeah, well your parents probably had children.” She cringed. Could she possibly sound more ridiculous? Clearly, they had children; she was conversing with one of them. “Beyond you, that is. There’s just me. I don’t need a bigger house. Honestly, until today, I’ve never even used this room.”

  He smiled. “I didn’t mean it as a criticism. I actually like your house. It fits your happy, unpretentious personality. But it clearly states you’re not one of them.”

  She appreciated his kind words about her house, but remained a bit confused on one point. “Who is ‘them’?” Hadn’t they been talking about Trent?

  “The self-absorbed mega-rich.”

  Her thoughts immediately went to Trent’s friend Gary and his contempt. “No, I’m definitely middle-class.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.” He glanced at his watch. “We best get going.”

  She collected their plates and put them in the dishwasher, to join the other dishes waiting for a wash.

  “Aren’t you going to start it?”

  “No, it’s not full yet.”

  He laughed softly and opened the door for her.

  She grabbed her purse. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  For some reason he thought her amusing for waiting until she had a full load of dishes before turning it on, but she couldn’t imagine why.

  He stopped and stared at her front yard. “Shit!”

  “What?” she asked.

  “I thought these were weeds last night.”

  She chuckled. “Well the Queen’s Anne Lace probably qualifies as a weed, but the phlox, daisies, lilies, Echinacea, bachelor buttons and English lavender are all legitimate flowers.”

  “It’s beautiful. I doubt you’d be happy if someone dug them all out and planted grass.”

  She shivered at the idea. “No, I wouldn’t.” She caressed a rose as they headed to the black limo taking up her entire driveway. Her neighbors had to wonder why it had spent the night there.

  He opened the back door and waited for her climb in.

  Having just determined he might be higher middle-class than her, she didn’t feel comfortable being in the back. She met his gaze. “I could sit up front with you.”

  He didn’t respond for several seconds, then said, “No, that would get me fired.”

  She sighed and slipped into the back. She'd known Trent had money from early on, but other than having a poor concept of the value of a dollar, he’d always seemed a normal person. Seeing him from Sam’s eyes made her re
alize how fundamentally different Trent's life was from hers.

  And how impossible anything but a professional business relationship would be.

  A wave of sadness washed over her. Discovering Trent a better man than she’d thought just meant now she wanted the impossible. The reality was she could never live in Trent’s world anymore than he could live in hers.

  Her focus turned to the darkened glass between the front and back. It had kept her from seeing Sam all these years. She checked the control panel above her head and pushed the lever for privacy panel. As the glass lowered, Sam’s angry voice became audible.

  “No. Do not come! The lady does not want her flowers pulled out.” He hit the phone against his temple. “Why didn’t I learn Spanish?”

  She shifted to the seat facing backwards and leaned into Sam’s space, causing him to jump a couple of inches. “I speak Spanish, and if those are my flowers in danger, I’d really like to clear this up.”

  He sighed and handed her his phone.

  She introduced herself in Spanish. “Who am I talking to?

  “I’m Carlos. I work for Master Trent as a gardener. I’m supposed to fix a lady’s yard. She has been away for a long time and her garden is full of weeds now. Sam says not to go, but I’ll be fired if I don’t do what Master Trent wants.”

  “I’m the lady with the garden, and there are some weeds among my flowers. But as a gardener you know the difference between a flower and a weed, true?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She listed all the flowers in her garden and verified he could identify them.

  “Yes, ma’am. It sounds like a pretty garden.”

  “It’s a bit wild because the flowers have seeded into each other, but I like that, so don’t pull out any flowers even if they are in another flower’s bed.”

  “I won’t touch any flowers.”

  “Well, in that case, I would greatly appreciate your help.”

  The young man sighed with relief. “Then I can come and do my job.”

  “Yes.”

  After wishing him a good day, she hung up and handed the phone back to Sam. “He’s going to come and weed my flower beds.”

  Sam sighed with relief. “This is why we never should talk to the master directly.”

  “You called Trent about my garden?”

  “In the dark, I thought your front yard had grown to three foot weeds, which would be an invitation for vagrants to break into your house.”

  “Is that why you stayed last night?”

  He nodded. “But I had to ask the master’s permission first. He decided to send his entire garden staff over to fix your front lawn. I assured him one gardener would be sufficient, but he would need to bring grass and cultivating equipment.”

  She laughed and pressed her hand to her chest. “Thank God Trent changed the time I had to be at work or we’d have left in the dark and you wouldn’t have discovered your mistake.”

  He stared at her through the mirror as he flew up Route 80. “So you aren’t pissed?”

  “No. I would have been distraught if I came home and found a boring lawn instead of my flowers, but once I understood the good intentions behind the disaster, I wouldn’t have been angry.”

  He smiled. “I see why the master likes you, but…”

  “But what?”

  He sighed and met her eyes in the rearview mirror again. “There’s nothing in this for you. He won’t marry outside of his class, and honestly, you’d be miserable if he did.”

  “I know,” she stated and moved back to the other seat.

  Why was she angry at Sam? He’d just told the same thing she’d concluded. It didn’t matter if Trent became the nicest man in the world, they still would be different species.

  Running off and becoming a groupie of Tall and Tiny would give her a better chance at happiness.

  Neither spoke for the remainder of the drive. As he pulled to the sidewalk outside of the office, he finally spoke. “If the master knows what I said to you, he’ll fire me in a second.”

  “I’m not saying anything.” Instead of waiting for him to open the door, she let herself out and hurried through the sliding glass doors, past the empty security guard desk, and into the elevator.

  She glanced at her watch. 8:47 a.m. At least she’d arrive early. Trent had time issues, which his current staff exacerbated like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  When she entered Trent’s outer office, a.k.a. ‘her’ office, her temper flared as she stared at the empty space behind her desk. Someone had once again stolen her chair. She'd purposely chosen the color purple so she’d be able to find it when it mysteriously went on a walk-about and ended up at Miss Payroll’s desk.

  Walking down the aisle one across from the probable thief, she glanced over the cubicles to see Miss Schnell sitting in a purple chair. “I heard someone put donuts in the coffee room. Are there any left?” she asked to no one in particular.

  She’d barely finished her question before the stampede began. She smiled at her success. Tiny would be proud of her ability to make a staff disappear. But more importantly, one old crotchety vermin in charge of payroll no longer squatted on her chair. Reaching under the seat she found her name etched into the chair. No one could call her out for stealing a chair that just looked like hers.

  She’d barely rolled it back to her desk and sat down when Trent arrived. “Good, you’re here. Come into my office.”

  Unwilling to leave her chair unprotected so the old witch could steal it again, she brought it with her.

  His furrowed brow left no doubt of his displeasure. “I have chairs.”

  “Yes, you do. And if I bring this with me, I will too.”

  He stared at her a long moment before responding. “Did you get enough sleep?”

  Now that he mentioned it, her behavior did seem a bit snippy for so early in the morning. No doubt due to the ugly truth she'd faced during her ride in his limo— she and Trent were different species and would always be so.

  Her lack of an immediate reply evidently made her boss snippy. “If you want to drag chairs in with you, then for god sakes choose a black one so it doesn’t give me a headache.”

  “I chose purple so it would stand out when someone stole it.”

  His eyes rounded in outrage. “And yet, you bring it into my office so no one can.”

  “I had no chair when I came into work. Miss Schell had taken it. So when she waddled off in search of donuts, I retrieved it. But mark my word, she’ll try again.”

  He paused. “Schnell. The hideous old witch?”

  “Of payroll, yes.”

  He grimaced and massaged his temple. “I may have told her she could use it during your absence. She went on and on about her back and I just wanted her out of my sight.”

  Carrie planned to yell at him, but he added, “She threatened to sue me.”

  That old bat would too. Still, Carrie needed to take a stand on this.

  “Since this is the third chair she’s taken from me, I’m keeping this one.”

  He ceased his head massage and stared at her. “Third? What’s she doing with them?”

  “I have no idea, but this chair has both my name etched into it for identification and a GPS chip for locating it if it should leave the building.”

  He rapped his Montblanc pen like an angry woodpecker. “When did you do this and why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did it when my last chair went missing a month before I went off to Taiwan. I’ve suspected the old troll of stealing our supplies for some time, but an expensive office chair is a higher degree of theft, so for this, I want incontrovertible proof.

  The pen flew into the air and then clattered to the floor. Trent storm across the room, snatched it up, and threw it in the trash. “Well then, you’ve wasted my money because no one stole your chair.”

  “Yet,” she declared defiantly, outraged that he’d yell at her over the cost of a chair, which she bought with her own money, when he just threw a $13,5
00 limited edition fountain pen in the garbage.

  “Nor can they, if you protect it.” Trent moved around his desk, ripped the chair from her hands and shoved it out the door. He turned and pointed to the couch. “Sit!”

  She took a seat. While she didn’t appreciate being commanded like a poorly trained puppy, when Trent channeled his father, all she could do was wait him out. He would eventually calm and return to sanity. Her chair might disappear by then, but thankfully, it had a GPS chip.

  He grabbed some papers and sat beside her. “Max Stein called me this morning. He wants to discuss the chairs we sold him and he didn’t sound happy.”

  Now she understood his surly mood. Max Stein was one of their best customers. “Did he give you a hint as to why?”

  “No, but I’m taking you with me.” He frowned at her brown slacks and knit top. “Are we starting the week off ‘casual Friday’?”

  God, could she never get a break? “I thought we’d work on our staffing problem today.”

  “Well, customers come first.” He gathered up all the files and dropped them into his mega briefcase. “You can run into Macy’s and grab something to impress on our way.”

  As he rushed out the door, Carrie followed so she could voice her protest. “No, I can’t. Not until I’m reimbursed for my month’s expenses in Taiwan. My credit cards are maxed out.”

  Trent frowned as he pushed the button for the elevator repeatedly. “Credit cards don’t have maxes.”

  She covered the button so he didn’t break the elevator… again. “Normal people’s credit cards have a limit which they aren’t allowed to exceed.”

  “Really? And what happens if you ignore their stupid rule?” The elevator opened and he held the door and let her in first.

  “They hit you with a huge fine and disable your card until you rectify the situation.”

  “That’s inconvenient.”

  “And worrisome when you're in a foreign country. I would've been in serious trouble if I got caught in the cyclone since I couldn’t afford an extension on my hotel room.”

  He reached into his vest and pulled out his slender wallet. He handed her one of his credit cards. “You may use this in case of emergencies.”

  She smiled at his thoughtfulness but gave it back to him. “It’s against the law to use someone else’s credit card.”