It had taken the first week to lose the knot in her stomach over starting a new job. By the second week Scout found her rhythm and acquired a keen understanding for how long a room took to clean and freshen. She’d never done a penthouse before, let alone a master suite. Scout wasn’t even sure what a master suite was. Forcing a calming breath into her tightening lungs, she maintained an expression of capable confidence and took the list and keys from Tamara.
The idea that she had no clue about the pace she’d need to keep that day terrified her. Scout needed this job and she’d have to hustle her ass off in order to get everything done before the end of her shift. She usually sat on a bench down the street for her lunch break, being that she never packed a lunch, but today she’d work straight through her entire shift in order to make sure she finished in time.
Not until ten o’clock did she breathe relatively normally again. She completed her first circuit of common-area maintenance. The upper floors were much like the lower ones. There were more seating areas and therefore more furniture to dust, but for the most part they took the same amount of time. Although the suites were larger than the typical rooms, they were pricier too. That meant fewer guests. Tamara must have realized that when she made the schedule for the day.
By Scout’s third suite she had herself timed at twenty-two minutes per room, but there were only fifteen rooms she was responsible for on level thirty. That would leave her with two hours to complete the penthouse master suite C.
By one o’clock she was left waiting for one guest to get the hell out of his room so she could clean it and then she’d be finished with the thirtieth floor. Scout hovered for a few moments and decided it would be better to come back after she finished the master suites.
She rolled her cart to the service elevator and returned it to the lower level with the rest. Collecting a small basket from the shelf, she quickly packed it with shampoo, conditioner, soaps, and anything else she might need while up there.
Scout’s anxiety returned as she found the private elevators on the thirty-first floor. Unlike the other guest elevators, these were quite lovely. There were four of them, simply numbered with the letter dedicated to each individual master suite. Each one was made of glass and lined with delicate brass bars. As she stepped into the one labeled C, she felt like that bird in a gilded cage from one of the stories Parker had read to her.
The ride was only a few seconds to the thirty-second floor. The gilded cage opened with practiced ease and Scout stepped across the threshold to a frosted glass-paned set of French doors.
She knocked lightly.
“Housekeeping.”
When no one answered, Scout slid the private keycard through the lock and slowly turned the knob. The level of luxury the room announced at first sight was sweltering. She found it difficult to breathe among the thickly papered walls, richly upholstered furniture, and heavily padded carpet.
Silently, she walked down the long, private corridor.
“Hello? Housekeeping . . .”
No one was there, but she found comfort in her own familiar voice. Looking down at her shabby shoes, her self-esteem faltered for a moment. Such opulence. Such contrast.
Chandeliers dripped from beveled fixtures on the twelve-foot ceilings. Antique settees and decorative side tables created various sitting rooms. There was an enormous private bar, somehow dwarfed by the mammoth window facing the east.
Approaching the window slowly, the effect was dizzying. It felt as though she were an angel spying on mortals below. It was a powerful and jarring vantage point to hold. She was on top of the world. Well, on top of Folsom, but still . . . this was the highest she had ever been.
There was an identical window facing the north. A unique executive desk was the centerfold of that backdrop. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with the personal items she noticed scattered on the floor around the grand desk so she let them be.
Moving to a pair of double doors, Scout discovered a bedroom. It wasn’t as extraordinary as she’d expected. The bedding was of a finer quality than the typical guest rooms at the hotel, but a slight wave of disappointment washed over her because it was somewhat ordinary in comparison to the rest of the penthouse.
Then she discovered another set of doors.
Pressing them open, she gasped at the audacious splendor that was obviously the master bedroom. It was a palace. A king-size bed shaped like a sleigh was the central piece of the room. The decadent bed was draped in heavy silk blankets reminding her of something from a story called Arabian Nights that Parker had read to her.