Her cell phone rang. She looked down and saw Ava’s number in caller ID.
“Hey.”
“Hey! I’m at the gate. Now what?”
Ellie glanced around. Not only did she not know how to open the gate, but Mac wasn’t here to show her. She couldn’t even attempt to please this privileged family on her limited knowledge of cooking. She had to get that cookbook. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to open the gate and I can’t ask Mac because he just took the kids out on his boat.”
“Well, all I have is the cookbook. Why don’t you come to me and I’ll pass it through the gate to you?”
Ellie sighed with relief. “Good idea.”
Feeling like a criminal, she snuck out the front door of the echoing mansion, raced down the front yard and reached through the gate bars to get the cookbook from Ava.
“Thanks.”
Cain Nestor’s fifty-five-year-old assistant peered over her black frame glasses at Ellie. “Tell me I’ll be able to get through the gate tonight when we have to debrief about Happy Maids.”
“You will. I swear,” Ellie said, walking backward up the grassy front yard to return to the house.
“Good. I’ll see you tonight,” Ava called, but Ellie was already running toward the door. Cookbook under her arm, she tiptoed up the silent hall to the kitchen even though she knew she was alone in the house. Mac had said he and his children would be gone the entire afternoon, yet she still felt as if she was doing something wrong.
But she wasn’t. She could cook. She simply hadn’t memorized recipes for anything beyond burgers and spaghetti. All she had to do was find a recipe, prepare the food, and serve it like a good maid, then Cain and Liz would both get the recommendations they needed.
Sitting at the weathered table by the French doors, she took the cookbook out of the plastic bookstore bag. Easy Main Dishes in Under An Hour. Ellie laughed. Ava was nothing if not perceptive! This should be a cinch.
She perused the recipes, with one eye on the canal so she would see the Carmichael family if they returned unexpectedly. Spotting a recipe she liked—penne pasta with portabella mushrooms and red and yellow peppers—she took the book with her as she walked around the kitchen, checking for supplies.
The well-stocked refrigerator had both red and yellow peppers and portabella mushrooms. The cabinet held penne pasta. Next she found the ingredients for the Alfredo sauce. Interestingly, in the last cabinet on the row closest to the door leading to the stairway, she also found the controls for the gate, including a small computer monitor that displayed the feed from the video camera. One button said “Open gate.” One said “Close gate.” A system couldn’t get any simpler than that.
Because the meal would only take an hour to prepare, she decided to do laundry and some light cleaning while Mac and the kids were out on the ocean.
She found baskets of dirty clothes in each of the kids’ bathrooms, but she stopped at the master suite. Mac hadn’t even opened the door to let her peek in as he’d done with Lacy’s room. A bedroom was such a private space, it felt like an invasion to even look inside. Forget about walking in. She’d feel like an interloper. She’d already had to talk herself out of being suspicious of this guy. She didn’t want to give her free-wheeling imagination any more grist for the mill!
Maybe tomorrow she’d be adjusted enough to collect his laundry, but she’d handled enough for today.
After sorting the kids’ clothes, she put a load into the washer then returned downstairs, this time using the fancy curved cherrywood stairway.
She walked past the living room with shiny marble floor, heavy tapestry drapes and ultramodern furniture with glass tables. Not exactly her taste, but in keeping with the rest of the museum-like décor. The room wasn’t even in need of a light dusting. So she checked the dining room, playroom, sitting room and den and found them all in the same spotless condition. She walked to the kitchen where she grabbed the notepad on which she’d made the list of everything that needed to be done as Mac had suggested, and began arranging things in the best order for cleaning. Whether the rooms “needed” dusting or not, she would begin a rotation that maintained the spotless condition of this home.
By the time the yacht returned, she had a schedule developed that would assure the entire house would be kept spotless, the laundry would be done and three meals would be prepared.
Chopping the peppers, she watched out the window as Mac carried Henry on his arm and led his daughter up the dock to the backyard and toward the house. She fought the suspicion again that something was wrong with this picture because she didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t something she could see or something she’d heard, only a sense she had. If she just had something substantial to base the feeling on, she’d know how to handle it. Instead, she had only an unhappy imagination that was making her crazy.
Annoyed with herself for not dropping this, she waited for them to enter the kitchen, but after fifteen minutes she realized they had probably come in through another door. Two seconds later, Mac walked into the kitchen wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
“Everything okay?”
Trying to behave like a normal maid, not an overly suspicious idiot, she smiled shakily at him. “Great. I spent the afternoon creating a cleaning schedule, so I can hit the ground running tomorrow.”
“There’s no rush.” Mac opened the refrigerator and snagged an apple. “The place is immaculate. It can go a day or two without being dusted. I want you to get accustomed to the house and the cleaning end of things these next few days so that when I go back to work, the kids can be your priority.” He caught her gaze. “I also want this time for the kids to get accustomed to seeing you around the house. To get to know you before you’re their primary caregiver.”
Okay. See? He had a good explanation for having her around the kids, but not actually interacting with them. He was giving her time to get accustomed to the house and giving the kids time to get accustomed to her. That made more sense than to think something was wrong with him.
“I’ll be fine with the kids.” That she could say with complete confidence. “Helping some friends—” She almost said the women living in A Friend Indeed houses, but thought the better of it. She didn’t really know Mac and most of the charity’s work was confidential to protect the identities of the women seeking shelter. “I’ve babysat, played board games and gone to the beach more times than I can count.”
He crunched a bite of the apple, chewed then swallowed and said, “Great.” He paused for a second before he added, “This job won’t last long. My assistant is working with two employment agencies now, looking for a replacement for Mrs. Devlin. She’ll do initial interviews. I’ll do the second interview.”
“So you should have a replacement in three weeks?” Ellie asked hopefully.
He winced. “More like four.”
Liz’s entire honeymoon.
“I’m sorry that I sort of strong-armed you into this. But my kids are important to me and I don’t want just anybody around them.”
Surprised, but pleased that he’d apologized—once again confirming that he was a nice guy and she had to stop looking for bad things about him—she nodded. “I get that. We’ll be fine.”
“And there’s one other thing I forgot to mention. I’d prefer that you not tell anyone where you’re working.”
She winced. “I’m sorry but I already told Ava. She’s helping me with Happy Maids. But you don’t have to worry,” she hastily added, not wanting to anger him unnecessarily. “Ava works for Cain. He owns five businesses.