Фрида Макфаден – The Housemaide / Горничная. Книга для чтения на английском языке (страница 9)
“Why did you give me water?” She crinkles her nose at the glass of filtered water I put at her place setting. “I
If I had spoken to somebody like that when I was a child, my mother would have smacked my hand and told me to say “please.” But Cecelia isn’t my child, and I haven’t managed to endear myself to her yet in the time I’ve been here. So I smile politely, take the water away, and bring her a glass of apple juice.
When I place the new glass in front of her, she carefully examines it. She holds it up to the light, narrowing her eyes. “This glass is dirty. Get me another one.”
“It’s not dirty,” I protest. “It just came out of the dishwasher.”
“It’s
I take a deep, calming breath. I’m not going to fight with this little girl. If she wants a new glass for her apple juice, I’ll get her a new glass.
As I’m fetching Cecelia her new glass, Andrew comes out to the dining table. He’s removed his tie and unbuttoned the top button on his white dress shirt. Just the tiniest hint of chest hair peeks out. And I have to look away.
Men are something I am still learning how to navigate in my post-incarceration life[31]. And by “learning,” I of course mean that I am completely avoiding it. At my last job waitressing at that bar – my only job since I got out— customers would inevitably ask me out. I always said no. There just isn’t room in my messed-up life right now for something like that. And of course, the men who asked me were men I wouldn’t have ever wanted to go out with.
I went to prison when I was seventeen. I wasn’t a virgin, but my only experiences included clumsy high school sex. Over my time in jail, I would sometimes feel the tug around attractive male guards. Sometimes the tug was almost painful. And one of the things I looked forward to when I got out was the possibility of having a relationship with a man. Or even just feeling a man’s lips against mine. I want it. Of course I do. But not now. Someday.
Still, when I look at a man like Andrew Winchester, I think about the fact that I haven’t even
An idea occurs to me: if I ever want to release a little tension, Enzo might be a good candidate. No, he doesn’t speak English. But if it’s just one night, it shouldn’t matter. He looks like he would know what to do without having to say much. And unlike Andrew, he doesn’t wear a wedding ring – although I can’t help but wonder about this Antonia person, whose name is tattooed on his arm.
I wrench myself from my fantasies about the sexy landscaper as I return to the kitchen to retrieve the two plates of food. Andrew’s eyes light up when he sees the juicy steak, seared to perfection. I am really proud of how it came out.
“This looks incredible, Millie!” he says.
“Thanks,” I say.
I look over at Cecelia, who has the opposite response. “Yuck! This is steak.” Stating the obvious, I guess.
“Steak is good, Cece,” Andrew tells her. “You should try it.”
Cecelia looks at her father then back down at her plate. She prods her steak gingerly with her fork, as if she’s anxious it might leap off the plate and into her mouth. She has a pained expression on her face.
“Cece…” Andrew says.
I look between Cecelia and Andrew, not sure what to do. It hits me now that I probably shouldn’t have made steak for a nine-year-old girl. I just assumed she had to have highbrow taste, living in a place like this.
“Um,” I say. “Should I…?”
Andrew pushes back his chair and grabs Cecelia’s plate from the table. “Okay, I’ll make you some chicken nuggets.”
I follow Andrew back into the kitchen, apologizing profusely. He just laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Cecelia is obsessed with chicken, and especially chicken nuggets. We could be dining at the fanciest restaurant in Long Island, and she’ll order chicken nuggets.”
My shoulders relax a bit. “You don’t have to do this. I can make her chicken nuggets.”
Andrew lays her plate down on the kitchen counter and wags a finger at me. “Oh, but I do. If you’re going to work here, you need a tutorial.”
“Okay…”
He wrenches the freezer open and pulls out a giant family pack of chicken nuggets. “See, these are the nuggets Cecelia likes. Don’t get any other brands. Anything else is unacceptable.” He fumbles with the Ziploc seal on the bag[32] and removes one of the frozen nuggets. “Also, they must be dinosaur-shaped. Dinosaur – got that?”
I can’t suppress a smile. “Got it.”
“Also”—he holds up the chicken nugget—“you have to first examine the nugget for any deformities. Missing head, missing leg, or missing tail. If the dinosaur nugget has any of these critical defects, it
I nod solemnly. “I understand.”
As the chicken nuggets rotate in the microwave, he glances around the kitchen, which is at least twice as large as the aPart ment I was evicted from. “I can’t even tell you how much money we spent renovating this kitchen, and Cecelia won’t eat anything that doesn’t come out of the microwave.”
The words “spoiled brat[33]” are at the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say them. “She knows what she likes.”
“She sure does.” The microwave beeps and he pulls out the plate of piping hot chicken nuggets. “How about you? Have you eaten yet?”
“I’ll just bring some food up to my room.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to join us?”
Part of me would like to join him. There’s something very engaging about Andrew Winchester, and I can’t help but want to get to know him better. But at the same time, it would be a mistake. If Nina walked in and saw the two of us laughing it up at the dining table, she wouldn’t like it. I also have a feeling that Cecelia won’t make the evening pleasant.
“I’d rather just eat in my room,” I say.
He looks like he’s going to protest, but then he thinks better of it. “Sorry,” he says. “We’ve never had live-in help before, so I’m not sure about the etiquette.”
“Me either,” I admit. “But I don’t think Nina would like it if she saw me eating with you.”
I hold my breath, wondering if I’ve overstepped by stating the obvious. But Andrew just nods. “You’re probably right.”
“Anyway.” I lift my chin to look at his eyes. “Thank you for the tutorial on the chicken nuggets.”
He grins at me. “Any time.”
Andrew takes the plate of chicken back into the dining room. When he’s gone, I gobble up the food from Cecelia’s rejected plate while standing over the kitchen sink, then return to my bedroom.
Chapter 10
A week later, I come down to the living room and find Nina holding a full garbage bag. My first thought is: Oh God, what now?
In only a week of living with the Winchesters, Ifeel like I’ve been here for years. No,
But I don’t, so I don’t.
The only member of the family who isn’t completely intolerable is Andrew. He is not around much, but my few interactions with him have been… uneventful. And at this point, I’m thrilled with
I hover at the entrance to the living room, trying to figure out what Nina could possibly be doing with a garbage bag. Does she want me to sort the garbage from now on, alphabetically and by color and odor? Have I purchased some sort of unacceptable garbage bag and now I need to re-bag the garbage? I can’t even begin to guess.
“Millie!” she calls out.
My stomach clenches. I have a feeling I’m about to figure out what she wants me to do with the garbage. “Yes?”
She waves me over to her – I try to walk over like I’m not being led to my execution. It’s not easy.
“Is there something wrong?” I ask.
Nina picks up the heavy garbage bag and drops it on her gorgeous leather sofa. I grimace, wanting to warn her not to get garbage all over the expensive leather material.
“I just went through my closet,” she says. “And unfortunately, a few of my dresses have gotten a
Is that it? That’s not so bad. “Of course. No problem.”
“Actually…” Nina takes a step back, her eyes raking over me. “What size are you?”
“Um, six?”
Her face lights up. “Oh, that’s perfect! These dresses are all size six or eight.”
Six or eight? Nina looks like she’s at least a size fourteen. She must not have cleared out her closet in a while. “Oh…”