“This is an amazing house,” I said to Diana, following her to the kitchen. “It’s very intimidating. My house back home would fit in just the living room.”
The kitchen had four ovens, three stoves, two sinks, and an indoor barbeque with a white stone chimney for the smoke. There was a white stone fireplace matching the barbeque stone. The coziest breakfast nook was tucked to one side. A table sat in the middle with a long bench on one side and soft, high-backed chairs on the other. The kitchen was surrounded by glass overlooking yet another flower bed and lavish fountains. This was by far my favorite room, so far. I could see myself drinking tea in the morning curled up on the couch by the fire with the newspaper.
I wonder if they get the newspaper. I hope they do. I still want to keep up with the world. Well, if they don’t? I can get my own. How will I get my own if I don’t have a car?
“Miss Mia, here is your water,” Diana interrupted my thoughts. “Since you’re in the kitchen, let me introduce you to our cook, Mrs. Williams. She is here from noon to eight p.m. every day.”
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Williams,” I said, putting my hand out. “I’ll bet you absolutely love working in this amazing kitchen.”
“Good evening, Miss Mia,” Mrs. Williams said warmly. “Yes, it’s a wonderful kitchen. Can I get you a snack to hold you until dinner?”
“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” I said. “You look like you’re getting ready to prepare a meal.”
“No problem at all, Mia,” Mrs. Williams shuffled over around the island. “How about a slice of pecan pie? I can send it up to your room so you can go get settled in.”
Mrs. Williams is very nice, but I know when I am being shooed out of a room. I hope I’ll be allowed to hang out in that nook area sometime.
I wonder who is there in the mornings if Mrs. Williams doesn’t come in until noon. A maid and a cook. I’m going to guess they don’t cook their own breakfast. I wonder if I can cook my own breakfast?
“Thanks, Mrs. Williams,” I said, following behind Diana who was hurrying back into the grand foyer.
“Diana, what time is dinner, by the way?” I asked, suddenly realizing they probably had formal dinners around here. “Am I supposed to dress up for dinner?”
“Dinner is promptly at seven p.m. every night in the formal dining room,” Diana said. “Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne usually dress for dinner but not formal.”
If I have to go up and down those grand staircases too many times a day, I won’t need to jog every morning.
Can Victoria and her husband go up and down these stairs every day? They probably have an elevator somewhere. I don’t think I saw her go to the stairs when we went to the kitchen.
It was surreal to be in a mansion like this being escorted by a maid to “my suite.”
I could get used to this, but is my future husband rich like this too?Just because his parents are rich doesn’t necessarily say he is. I mean the profile said wealthy doctor, but I didn’t imagine this kind of wealthy.
The hallway Diana called the west wing had twelve-foot ceilings, heavy velvet green tapestries, and more expensive art, all overlooking the grand foyer. My suite’s entrance had double doors, for crying out loud, and it was the size of a department store. The four-poster king-sized bed faced a white stone fireplace already crackling and warm.
The comforter was a lush and luxurious white faux fur. It looked so inviting that the minute Diana left the room, I lay back on it, running my fingers through the fur.
I slowly opened my eyes, feeling disoriented. The silence was not normal.Where are Chloe andSophie?
I sat straight up, fully awake now and remembering what I’d done forty-eight hours ago. Regret riffled through me. I wondered if I would get used to the absence of Chloe and Sophie. My heart raced and my hands trembled as I reached around on the bed for my cell phone. On auto pilot, I hit the button to call, but when my screen saver popped up, my precious little niece Sophie stared back at me, smiling her special, goofy grin. I put the phone back down.
Stop it. You’ve got this. Sophie is worth anything and everything. If you call, Chloe will know you’re nervous.
I lifted the phone back up. My fingers spread the screen to zoom in for a closer look, feeling better already just seeing her face. Then my eyes caught the 6:53 at the top of the screen.
Oh no. I’m going to be late for dinner.
I scooted to the edge of the bed. When my feet finally hit the floor, I ran for the door. I had seven minutes to be at dinner. It might take that long to get to the dining room.
Way to go, girl. Just be late, why don’t you, and on your first meal with the family and hopefully your husband. Geez, that sounds so strange to say.
The massive antiqued mirror leaning against the wall near the door almost yelled at me to stop. I knew it didn’t actually talk to me, (or did it?) but it for sure didn’t approve of my disheveled appearance. I stuck my tongue out at the mirror for mocking me. I slowed my pace just a tad and turned, taking in the eighteenth-century architecture.
This is bigger than David Jones department store. This can’t be all bad, right? Find your suitcase, change out of your shorts. Shoot, it’s in the car. Maybe it’s here. Just look.
I looked around, not seeing my suitcase, but it must have been delivered because my brush and perfume sat on the dresser. I walked over and opened what I figured was the closet.
Wow, who owns enough clothes to fill this? Why is there a couch in the closet? Ha, it’s in here because you get exhausted just walking around the whole thing. So strange someone brought my suitcase in while I was sleeping and hung up my clothes.