Chapter 48
She chuckles. “Come. I’ll introduce you to the other staff properly p>
We turn into a sitting room where two women are arranging flowers on a long table. One of them looks up first, dark curls pulled into a messy bun, sleeves rolled up.
“Oh,” she says, eyes widening and a blush rushing up her face. “You must be her p>
Margaret nods. “Elaine This is Ruth and Celia p>
Ruth wipes her hands on her apron and steps forward immediately. “It’s nice to finally meet you Mrs, we were wondering when we would get to put a face to the chaos p>
“The chaos?” I repeat.
Celia grins. “Don’t worry. That’s kind of a compliment around here p>
I laugh before I can stop myself. It slips out easily, surprising me. “Good. I would hate to disappoint on day one p>
They visibly relax instantly, ruth gestures to the flowers. “If you ever want any other flowers instead of roses, say the word. He prefers roses. We don’t p>
“That tracks,” I say.
Margaret gives me a look but doesn’t argue.
We move on. The kitchen is next, bigger than most restaurants I’ve worked in. A man is leaning against the counter sipping coffee, talking animatedly to someone I can’t see yet.
“Ben,” Margaret says. “Stop flirting and say hello p>
He turns, takes one look at me, and straightens. “Ah. So you’re real p>
“I think so,” I say. “Otherwise this morning was very confusing p>
He laughs. “I like her already p>
“Careful,” Margaret warns. “She’s married now p>
Ben raises both hands. “Purely professional admiration p>
Another woman steps out from the pantry carrying a clipboard. Short, sharp eyes, no-nonsense posture.
“This is Lillian,” Margaret says. “She runs the house when I’m not around p>
Lillian studies me for a moment, then nods. “Welcome. If you need anything, ask. If someone gives you trouble, tell me p>
“I will,” I say, meaning it.
As we walk, people greet me. A driver I recognize from yesterday gives a small nod. Someone else cracks a joke about surviving the first morning. Another asks if I prefer tea or coffee in the afternoons.
No one treats me like I don’t belong,
Maybe because I’m thier bosses wife or maybe they are just generally nice people. Let’s just hope it’s the latter.
I didn’t realize how tightly I’d been holding myself together until I feel it loosen.
“This is… nice,” I say quietly to Margaret as we head back toward the stairs.
She glances at me. “You don’t sound surprised p>
“I am,” I admit. “Just not in the way I expected p>
She smiles, soft and knowing. “This house is many things. Cold isn’t one of them p>
We reach the bottom of the staircase again.its starting to get dark out now, it’s still alittle bright though.
I check my phone without thinking.
7:14 PM.
“What,” I say. “That’s not possible p>
Margaret laughs. “It always happens p>
“I swear I just woke up p>
“You’ve been walking and being with the other workers for for over hours now p>
I groan. “I have to get ready p>
“Yes,” she agrees. “You do p>
She gestures up the stairs. “Your room. Everything you need should already be there. If it isn’t, send someone down p>
“Someone,” I repeat. “Right p>
She pauses before I head up. “Elaine.
I turn.
“You’re doing well,” she says simply.
I don’t know why that hits me as hard as it does.
“Thank you,” I say.
Upstairs, the hallway feels quieter than before. When I step inside, the room looks untouched since this morning.
I drop onto the edge of the bed for a second and let myself breathe.
Then I stand.
Eight.
I move toward the closet, already bracing myself.
Whatever tonight is going to be, I know one thing for sure.
I’m not walking into it unprepared.
I go straight back to my room once Margaret leaves me at the stairs.
My eyes drift to the far side of the room, to the garment bag leaning neatly against the wall.
I walk over slowly, unzip it, and there it is. The dress she picked for me weeks ago, for the reception party.
My throat tightens for a second. Ivy had sent me photos, voice notes, excitement bubbling through the screen. Trust me. This one is you I swear.
She was right.
I lay it out on the bed, along with the heels tucked carefully at the bottom of the bag. I run my fingers over them, then straighten up before I let myself think too much.
I shower longer than necessary.
The hot water helps. Steams the tension out of my shoulders. I take my time with everything. Lotion. Hair. Skincare. My movements slow, and deliberate
When I finally step back into the room, wrapped in a towe, I slide the dress on carefully. It fits exactly the way Ivy promised, Snug and tight through the waist and hips. I have to suck in just a little to zip it all the way up, and once it’s on, bending feels like a challenge.
I sit on the edge of the bed and reach for the heels.
That’s when the knock comes.
I freeze.
Another knock, softer this time. ” little spitfire p>
I rool my eyes heavily:
“One second,” I call out
I bend forward just enough to reach the strap and immediately regret it. The dress refuses to cooperat. I hiss under my breath and sit back up.
The door opens before I say anything else.
Zane steps in slowly.
His gaze drops instantly to me Barefoot. Sitting on the bed, my dress fitted too well for comfort with one heel dangling from my fingers.
He pauses.
“Are you stuck?,” he asks, I can clearly hear the laugh in his voice
“I am fine,” I say. “You can leave p>
“You’ve been sitting there for a while p>
“Wow. So Observant p>
His mouth twitches. He shuts the door behind him and fully enters the room anyway.
“I came to tell you we leave in the next ten minutes,” he says. Then his eyes flick to the heel again. “But this seems more urgent p>
“I said I’m fine p>
I bend again, stubborn, determined to prove a point.
It does not work.
I straighten with a sharp breath, annoyed at myself more than anything.
Zane exhales slowly. “Don’t do that p>
“Do what p>
“Pretend you’re not struggling p>
I glare at him. “Get out.