Charlotte’s mind raced. If, as she suspected, the letter on the desk was Cheré’s resignation and if Cheré gave the requisite two weeks’ notice, then Charlotte figured that she could do it. She’d already resigned herself to the fact that once Cheré left, she’d have to give up her own two days off each week until she could find a replacement. Working for Emily Rossi just meant giving them up earlier than she had planned.
Taking the temporary job would also mean that she’d have to work for almost two weeks straight, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d done so and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Besides, she could use part of the money to finally buy paint for her house. The outside of the century-old Victorian double was beginning to look a bit shabby, and she’d been intending to repaint it now for the past two years. Any money left over could be added to her retirement account.
“Hello? Ms. LaRue? Are you still there?”
Emily Rossi’s words were barely above a whisper, and the desperation in her tone tugged at Charlotte’s heart. She’d been desperate a time or two in her life as well and knew how it felt.
“I’m still here, Ms. Rossi.” Charlotte swallowed hard. So much for just saying no. She’d always been a sucker for a sob story. Yeah, and the money ain’t bad either. Ignoring the irritating voice in her head and telling herself that the money was not the only reason she was going to accept the offer, she said, “Okay, Ms. Rossi, what’s your address? And what time would you like for me to be there on Thursday?”
“You’ll do it? Oh, thank you, thank you! And please, just call me Emily.”
“Okay, Emily, but only if you call me Charlotte. Now, what’s that address?”
You’re such a hypocrite, Charlotte. Again Charlotte ignored the pesky voice and scribbled down the address and time. After once again reassuring the poor woman that she would be there on Thursday morning, she hung up the receiver.
Charlotte stared at the small stack of file folders she’d placed on the corner of her desk. Good thing she’d run that help-wanted ad, she decided. Now all she had to do was find a time to interview the prospects she’d chosen from the responses she’d received.
Two hundred dollars a day. Unbidden, Emily Rossi’s offer came to mind again, and Charlotte’s gaze slid over to the envelope from Cheré. Ignoring the letter wasn’t going to make it go away. With a sigh, Charlotte picked up a letter opener and the envelope, slid the tip of the opener beneath the flap, and ripped it open.
Maybe she was being a bit of a hypocrite about the money, but so what? For more years than Charlotte wanted to count, she had worked in the exclusive, historic Garden District, one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in New Orleans. Her regular clients paid her well, but this was the first time that she’d ever been offered that much money just to clean someone’s house. With a shake of her head, she pulled out the one-page letter from inside the envelope and began reading.
Just as she had thought, Cheré was giving notice, but only one week’s notice. According to the letter, she’d been hired by an accounting firm in Atlanta and would be reporting to work in two weeks. When Charlotte read the last two lines of the neatly typed letter, her throat grew tight and tears blurred her vision.
I love you, Charlotte, and I’ll miss you. You’ve been like a mother to me, and I’ll never forget all that you’ve done for me.
Though Charlotte had often thought of Cheré as family, until now she had never realized that the bright, energetic young woman had considered her family as well.
Outside, a car door slammed.
Charlotte’s gaze flew to the window. “Oh, no,” she whispered. They were here and she wasn’t ready. Charlotte dropped the letter and hurried to the front window. Peeking out of the window, all she saw though was her neighbor across the street.
“Whew! False alarm, Sweety Boy,” Charlotte told the little green parakeet inside the birdcage next to the window.
The parakeet squawked and chirped as he sidled over to the edge of the cage. Charlotte smiled. “Yeah, yeah, what do you care, you little scamp?”
Turning away from the cage, she hurried back to the kitchen. For years she and her sister, Madeline, had taken turns hosting the family for lunch after church services on Sunday morning; it was a tradition that they had started when their children were young, and surprisingly enough, even now that their children were all adults, everyone usually showed up.
The family was growing by leaps and bounds, she thought with a smile as she grabbed two hot pads. From the oven she removed the huge roast she’d baked earlier that morning before she went to church, and carried it over to the kitchen counter. With her son Hank’s recent marriage to Carol, her nephew Daniel’s marriage to Nadia, and her niece Judith’s ongoing relationship with Billy Wilson, an NOPD patrolman, not to mention Daniel and Nadia’s two little ones, her sister, Madeline, and herself, the body count was up to ten.
Charlotte gingerly peeled back the foil from the steaming roast. Using an electric knife, she began slicing it. Everyone in the family had a partner now, everyone but Madeline…and everyone but her.
Unbidden, bittersweet memories of the past tugged at her emotions. She’d been engaged once, but thanks to Vietnam, the love of her life had not come home alive. But she’d had one night with him, the night before he’d left, and she would forever be grateful for it. Without that one night she wouldn’t have the precious gift of her son, Hank, who had proved to be the joy of her life.
A commotion at the front door jerked Charlotte back to the present.
“Mom?” a deep voice called out.
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Charlotte murmured. And from the sounds of things, everyone else was following close behind.
“In the kitchen, son,” she called out.
Minutes later, the women were scurrying around setting out the food on the kitchen table buffet-style. From the living room, Charlotte could hear the rumble of male voices where the men had congregated. Charlotte would have loved to be a fly on the wall to hear what they were talking about.
With Hank being a doctor, Daniel a lawyer, and Billy a policeman, Charlotte couldn’t help but wonder just what the three men had in common to talk about.
Then she heard the distinct sound of the television, and she rolled her eyes when she recognized the voice of a well-known sports announcer followed by the roar of a crowd.
Of course. What else? She had all but forgotten that today was Super Bowl Sunday. Too bad the New Orleans Saints hadn’t made it to the Super Bowl, she thought. At least this year they had made it to the playoffs though, but only by the skin of their teeth.
At that moment Nadia’s four-year-old son, Davy, burst into the kitchen. “Aunt Chardy! Mommy! Daddy Danol says I can eat in the living room with the guys and watch football.”
Charlotte smiled at the little boy. “Of course you can, honey. After all, you’re one of the guys too.”
Nadia laughed as she swung baby Daniella, the newest member of the family, up onto her shoulder to burp her. “Guess that means us girls have to stay holed up in the kitchen.”
“Mommy! Girls don’t play football.”
Nadia smiled at her little son indulgently.
Judith walked over to Davy and knelt down in front of him. “Girls may not play football,” she said tapping him on the nose with her forefinger, “but this girl likes to watch it.”
Davy placed his hands on his hips and frowned. “Aunt Jude, I know you a police ’tective, but Daddy Danol says it’s a guy thing.”
Judith laughed. “That’s de-tective, you little scamp, but even girls like football too,” she said as she stood.
The little boy puffed up his chest.