Best Maid Plans

by Klaire, Jody

  “I’d say that’s emphatic evidence she feels more than she says.” And then some. Wow.

  “I don’t think I can imagine not being with her, Pip.” She sighed, running her hand through her hair. “What do I do?”

  Some kiss. “You know I have your best interests at heart right?”

  Rebecca blinked a few times and turned to me. “Yeah.”

  “You know I can say anything to you because you love me?” I asked.

  She frowned. “Are you saying she’s going to ditch me or doesn’t love me?” She wagged her finger. “Is all this because I didn’t choose to have a relationship before... because I can do relationships. I can rock a relationship.”

  “Actually, I was just going to point out that you’re standing in the hallway naked.” I shrugged.

  Rebecca looked down at herself and sighed. I’d seen her more times “in the nud” that I could remember but she’d definitely been working out. “What are you gawping at, Saunders?”

  I smiled. “You look good, Whitey.” I hadn’t called her that in years.

  She arched an eyebrow and flashed me a cocky grin. “Hitting on me at last?”

  “Yeah, you know me, can’t help myself.” I turned and headed toward the kitchen, shaking my head. There was the cocky again. “Weren’t you just sighing over the French dynamo?”

  Her arrogant laugh filled the room and faded as she strolled back up the stairs. She drove me bonkers. I’d been nice, paid her a compliment and she had to go and twist it—

  “Stop pouting,” she yelled from the direction of her room.

  “Was not pouting,” I yelled back. I opened the fridge—like I knew what to do with its sparse contents. No chocolate. Always a sad sight.

  “You were too. Now why are you in my kitchen?” Rebecca reappeared in shorts and t-shirt and ushered me out.

  “Stephanie wants me to do some jobs for her.” I held up my mobile, showing the text message that had pinged through. “I need to borrow you.”

  “Why didn’t you ask Berne?” She flipped her faded green baseball hat on, always backwards, and my stomach did a cheer of joy. It meant food. Hurray.

  My stomach gurgled. Rebecca raised an eyebrow and started to pull ingredients out of the fridge.

  “She’s busy,” I mumbled, I couldn’t say too much about Berne and her back or the accident that caused it. Babs didn’t know and neither could Rebecca so I wandered over to the kitchen farmhouse table and took a seat, my stomach rumbling with excitement. I loved food.

  “Not even for a massage?” Her teasing grin was enough.

  So she had heard me in the café? Balls.

  “I don’t know why she’s so fixed on them,” I mumbled. Rebecca had more than enough ammunition to taunt me for a good while and she would.

  “I do.” She laughed that annoying cocky laugh. “Why did you learn massage again anyway?”

  “You were with that weird Northern woman.” I scowled. “What was with the poetry?”

  Rebecca washed and peeled away. “She had a PhD in English literature.” She flashed me a grin. “She could definitely—”

  “You’re such an ass.” I shook my head at her. Her wistful grin was enough.

  She wagged an egg at me. “Was.” She cracked it on the bowl. “I’m happy to help you but, Pip, I’m not really a skilled tradeswoman.”

  She was quite good, not that I was telling her. She’d been really helpful when we were renovating the house. Well, technically we were still renovating the house... when we found the funds. “If you work with me then we can both earn some money.”

  “Deal.” Rebecca threw the ingredients into the pan. The sizzling delight of yumminess filled the kitchen. “How much do we know about Stephanie?”

  “You know more than me.” I shook my head. “And we’ll forget her pitiful taste in women.”

  “You know, I get the feeling there’s more to them splitting up.” She mixed the eggs. “I think you need to be careful with her.”

  “Excuse me?” I’d barely managed to ask if she liked cars.

  “You blushed, laughed a lot, and stared.” She whirred the spatula around the bowl. “I don’t think Berne likes it.”

  “I do that a lot. I get nervous. You saw me talking to that policeman the other day. I did all three.” I picked at the dents in the wooden table. I’d refurbished it. I was delighted with myself too.

  “Yeah, because you thought he was attractive.” She wagged a spatula at me. “I pay closer attention these days.”

  “Thought you said I was gay.” I flashed her a cocky grin and poked my tongue out. Hah.

  “Pip, you don’t have to be anything. I love you as you are.” She turned to me with a gentle smile. “But you were giving her a lot of green lights.”

  “How? I made sure I didn’t say anything seductive to the point I asked her opinion on tomato sauce versus mayonnaise.” To Stephanie’s credit, she’d given me her best intellectual thoughts on both in a way only French people could quite pull off. “I love Berne. I think that everyone gets that.”

  “You were seriously drooling.” She nodded when I stared at her. “You were. It didn’t matter what you were saying, you were flirty.”

  Flirty? I couldn’t be flirty if I tried. At least not with any kind of skill. “She looked like a commercial. I wanted to ask her about her blouse, did you see the cut on it?” I leaned on my fist. “I could do that with straight women.”

  “You were into her clothes?” Rebecca raised her eyebrows.

  “Yes, it was such a beautiful colour blue. I used to own shirts like that.” Silly to miss fabric. “Doug always appreciated good tailoring.” I missed that about him. “I wanted Berne to see I was trying. Besides, it wasn’t like Berne didn’t charm every woman in there, was it?”

  Rebecca cocked her head. “You’re sounding insecure.”

  I waved it off. “Berne makes men and women swoon, it’s a fact. Literally. She makes you drool and you love Babs.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “She makes Babs drool too.”

  Great. I should start a drool box for them. “As you can see, I’m the one fighting a battle, not Berne. As nice as Stephanie is, Berne is...” How could I describe her? “Berne is...” How she reached inside me and filled every essence with her purring tones. “She’s... Berne.”

  Rebecca flipped the omelette over. “Most people drool over you too.”

  I doubted that very much. “You don’t.”

  She stopped and blinked a few times. “That sounded like you want me to.”

  I pulled a face at her. I wanted the food.

  Rebecca brought it over and handed me the ketchup. I had a thing for glass bottle ketchup. Squirty bottles took all the fun out of digging for the bits at the bottom.

  “You’re in the honeymoon phase.” I turned the bottle upside down and gave it a strategic tap to displace the goodness within. “When you’d rather read a book that’s when you know it’s love.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She went to the fridge and pulled out a jar of mayonnaise. I was wondering how long it would take her to give in, she was a mayonnaise-oholic. “I don’t ever want to read a book instead.”

  “It’ll happen.” More likely watching sport in Rebecca’s case but still. “It’s about what things you have in common then.”

  “We have loads in common.” Rebecca decorated her omelette until it had white plastered over it. “She likes rugby.”

  “You only just learned her surname,” I said, patting the sauce bottle.

  Rebecca sighed. “A minor detail.”

  “You don’t really know what she does either, do you?” I shovelled in the omelette and paused to groan at the delicious taste. I was glad I lived with Rebecca. No one cooked an omelette like her.

  “No.” She stabbed at her food.

  “Want me to ask Berne?” I could already hear her reply. “Pepe, I cannot break this confidence, non?” She was hard enough to extract information out of as it was. “Maybe I could try to
rture?”

  Rebecca snapped her eyes to mine. “What?”

  I smiled. “I know her weak point now.” I could see the pout if I withdrew massages.

  “What, making her jealous?” Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “Because that’s what it looked like with Stephanie.”

  “How?” I’d been nice not swapping numbers.

  “The way you were staring, tailoring or not.” She chomped on her food. “The way you told Berne off for wanting to get close to you.”

  “I don’t smooch in public. You know that.” I dunked a crispy bit of bacon in the sauce and smiled. Food, food and Berne that was what I drooled over. “Affection isn’t my thing.”

  Rebecca leaned on her fist. “You’re affectionate to me.”

  I cleared my throat. “That’s because you’re different.”

  “Why?”

  I chomped on the salty bacon and groaned. Oh yeah. I licked my knife of sauce then noticed Rebecca was staring at me. “What?”

  She shook her head. “Why am I different?”

  “Because you know me... and I’m not sharing a bed with you.” I shrugged. Why was she still looking at me?

  “You did for ten years.” She crunched away and flicked her fork about. “I mean, how come we never went there.”

  “Like kissing my arm.” I sighed. She was highly offended that I hadn’t been through her first. Trying to explain that Berne was the only woman or man or anyone that I wanted didn’t seem to matter.

  “That’s mean, Pip. I’m not Berne but women find me attractive too, you know.” She stabbed at her food again.

  “I didn’t say you weren’t attractive so stop pouting.” I tapped her on the nose with my knife. “I love you enough that I couldn’t bear living apart from you and even Berne wouldn’t dare argue.” I smiled at her. “You’re special.”

  She grinned at me. “Yeah, you too. Babs wonders why we never had a steamy affair.”

  “Because she and Berne are so different?” Considering the pair of them were gorgeous and charming, they’d never looked at each other in that way, or so I assumed.

  “They’re weird like us.” Rebecca raised her Mayonnaise jar. “To not sleeping with your friends.”

  I chinked my tomato sauce bottle to it. “You’re the only one who gets cuddles if it helps?”

  She leaned back in her chair and flicked her feet onto another one. “Berne doesn’t get them?”

  “Yes.” I leaned back and smiled at her. “But she has to earn them.”

  Rebecca laughed a smutty laugh and I poked her in the shoulder. “I love you, you numbskull.”

  She placed a kiss on my forehead. “I know.”

  Chapter 7

  Berne strolled in at lunchtime and I felt a sudden jolt of desire at the sight of her in her work clothes. I wanted to stride on over and make her swoon. Yeah. I’d do just that. “Are you thirsty?” I tried striding over to the fridge, clattered my toe on the edge of the counter and yelped. Suave, Saunders, really suave.

  “Ça va?” Berne wandered over to me, her concern glinting through her eyes.

  I could recover; show my sexy side. I pulled out a bottle of water, presenting it to her. “Oh I’m just fine.”

  Berne stared at the water then at me. Her brow dipped. “Encore, ça va?”

  Concern had not been the preferred response. Oh well.

  “Stephanie called,” Rebecca said, exchanging a look with her and rolling her eyes.

  “It wasn’t my fault you and Babs were...” I motioned with my hands to show it was in that sense. “Stephanie was very patient considering.”

  Berne studied me, her lips twitching. “Patient?”

  “Yes, I said I’d take a look at what she needed,” I said. It had sounded professional in my head only to sound like I’d asked for her phone number out loud. Rebecca’s comment that I was laughing and staring flittered into my mind.

  Rebecca mouthed “change the subject.”

  Berne studied me. “Her property is outside the city.” She slid one hand into her back pocket, putting the untouched bottle on the counter. I didn’t like the distant look in her eyes. “She seemed très happy to have you work for her.”

  Rebecca fired me a warning glance.

  “She texted me the address,” I said like I’d eloped with the woman. “Rebecca and I are going to see her this afternoon.”

  Together, in a non-seductive, business sense.

  Berne’s brow dipped further. “She must need a lot of work?”

  “There were a few jobs. She said her artisan didn’t show up.” I smiled, ducking to catch her gaze. “I’ll do a good job.”

  Berne chewed on her lip and stared out of the window. Didn’t she think I could?

  Rebecca stuck her baseball hat on and ushered us out of her way. “You’re both hungry?”

  Why was she asking me? I was always hungry.

  Berne stared at her water bottle.

  “Pasta?” Rebecca asked, cutting through the awkward silence. Her tone was jolly, a bit too jolly.

  Berne smiled at her and wandered to the kitchen table without so much as a glance at me. “You could be a chef.”

  Both Rebecca and I stared at each other; coming from Berne that was some compliment. I leaned against the counter the other side of the kitchen breakfast bar.

  “I think she’s ready to run off with you,” I mumbled to Rebecca. Didn’t sound as funny as I’d intended. It sounded jealous.

  Berne stared at her hands like she hadn’t heard me.

  “Two in one day, lucky me.” Rebecca winked at me.

  Was I crowding Berne? Maybe it was too much me living in Ajoux? Maybe she didn’t want serious? I mean, it had seemed that way when she chose me over her ex-girlfriend; when she’d told me she still loved me; when she’d chased me through the rain but... did she? Doug had been easy to navigate this territory with. He always said what he wanted. He’d just told me. I missed that.

  “Take it easy, Pip. I’m not really going to add Berne to my list of French lovers.” Rebecca patted my hand.

  I looked down. My hands clenched, my knuckles white. I glanced at Berne who studied me again. How did I explain this? She’d think I didn’t trust her.

  “Um... Rebecca is charming.” I scowled at the cocky grin on Rebecca’s face. “If you ignore the irritating streak. Why wouldn’t I worry?”

  That should make her feel better, I was insecure because she was so gorgeous—

  “You think I would do such a thing to you?” Berne’s tone was icy.

  Keep digging, Saunders.

  “I didn’t say it was logical. Rebecca has experience and a way with the ladies.” I shot Rebecca a “help me,” look.

  “And you do not?” Berne said in what was close to a grunt. I could have sworn she was serious.

  “Er... no?”

  Berne and Rebecca exchanged a look.

  “What?” I frowned—Like Rebecca believed that. Was this a new way of teasing me? I hoped so. “Can someone speak plain English or what?”

  Technically, we were speaking in French but it sounded odd to say speak in plain French. French couldn’t be plain if it tried.

  Berne mumbled something then sighed and turned back to the window, a distant look in her eyes again. “Stephanie was with Emilie for a while. Emilie confesses that she grows cold, hides the true nature of their relationship.”

  “Okay, does that mean you’re angry with me for being nice to your friend?” I asked. This was why Doug had been easier to deal with. I didn’t have to guess. He was so much easier to read. “Because Stephanie was just being nice.”

  Berne wrinkled her brow, confusion in her eyes. “Pardon?”

  Rebecca stirred the pot. “Emilie told Babs that Stephanie had affairs.”

  “Right, because exes are always so open and honest.” I put my hands on my hips. Emilie had been lucky Stephanie had bothered paying her any attention, let alone have to deal with her declaring she was in love with Berne. I was on Stephanie’
s side. I could see the hurt in her eyes. I knew how I’d felt when I’d left France, how much it had taken just to breathe.

  “I didn’t think so but Babs thinks Stephanie is hiding something.” Rebecca shrugged. “I guess she knows her better than I do.”

  “Oui, Stephanie never looked at her in public. She did not come to the café, much like Vivienne.” Berne’s tapped the counter. “Maybe Emilie is right?”

  Rebecca raised her eyebrows and went back to her cooking.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, this had better not be going where I think it is.”

  Berne again wrinkled her brow. “My heart says one thing but, what if Emilie tells the truth?”

  “If that’s what you think, maybe I should hang out with Stephanie.” My body flushed. Anger bubbled up and threatened to spill over into tears. “Apparently she’s the only one who can have a girlfriend without the need to stick a tag on her.”

  “Pardon?” Berne stared at me wide eyed.

  I stormed toward the door.

  Rebecca turned from her cooking, grabbing for my hand. “Pip—”

  “I need to go.” I stomped out into the brilliant sunshine and got into Winston. The key was under the seat where I always stashed it. It wasn’t like anyone would want to pinch Winston. He spluttered into life and I chugged off. For some stupid reason, I was in a flood of tears, real sobbing baby tears. I rubbed at my eyes, trying to see the road.

  I couldn’t believe it. Did she think I’d run off with Stephanie? Her own friend? Did she believe I’d have an affair? Why? How could she even think it? And to place me in the same context as Vivienne-the-viper-fish-lips, her ex-girlfriend? Like I’d asked her to hide anything.

  I waved to Monsieur Coin getting walked by his dog Barnaby down to the river. I hoped he was too pre-occupied to see me blubbering. Berne not only thought I was a floozy with her friends but a closeted one. Nice.

  I sniffled away as I spluttered down the road in Winston. Monsieur Saint-Clerc gave me a cheery wave; Berne’s mother too on her way out of the boulangerie.

  I had thought that when Berne and I had reunited that it would solve all the niggling problems. I thought she trusted me. I thought I’d earned that trust. I thought that me declaring I loved her, leaving Doug, moving to another country, alienating myself from my family and resigning myself to being penniless might have gone some way to proving I loved her. Doug had trusted me. I missed him. I missed having a straightforward conversation.