Maid for the Millionaire. Susan Meier
you kidding? He’ll think I didn’t come back because I was intimidated.” She pointed her thumb at her chest. “I’m going. Besides, I have something else for you.” She opened her shoulder-strap purse and rifled through its contents. After finding the employment application of a young woman, Rita, whom she’d interviewed the night before, she handed it to Ellie.
“What do you think?”
“Looks okay to me.” She glanced up. “You checked her references?”
“Yes. But she’s staying at one of our Friend Indeed houses. I thought you might know her.”
Ellie shook her head. “No.”
“Well, you’ll be getting to know her next week. As soon as we’re through here, we’ll drop by the house she and her kids are using and tell her she’s got the job and that she’ll be working with you.”
“You want me to train her?”
“My goal is to get myself out of the field and into the office permanently.” Such as it was. The desk and chairs were secondhand. The air-conditioning rarely worked. The tile on the floor needed replacing. The only nice features of the crowded room were the bright yellow paint on the walls and the yellow-and-black area rug she’d found to cover most of the floor. But she was much better off than the women who came to A Friend Indeed, and working with them kept her grounded, appreciative of what she had, how far she’d come. It wasn’t so long ago that her mom had run from her abusive father with her and her sisters. The second chance they’d found because of a shelter had changed the course of not just her mom’s life, but also her life and her sisters’.
“To do that, I have to start teaching you to be my new second in command.”
Pulling canned goods from the box on the counter, Ellie glanced up again.
Liz smiled. “The promotion comes with a raise.”
Ellie’s mouth fell open and she dropped the cans before racing to Liz to hug her. “I will do the best job of anybody you’ve ever seen!”
“I know you will.”
“And seriously, I’ll take your ex-husband’s house.”
“I’m fine. My husband wasn’t abusive, remember? Simply distant and upset about his brother’s death.” She shrugged. “Besides, our paths won’t cross. We’ll be fine.”
Liz reassured Ellie, but she wasn’t a hundred percent certain it was true. Though she and Cain wouldn’t run into each other, she’d be touching his things, seeing bits and pieces of his life, opening old wounds. But she needed the job. A recommendation from Cain or his assistant could go a long way to getting the additional clients she needed. She wanted to expand. She wanted to be able to employ every woman who needed a second chance. To do that, she had to get more business.
Liz and Ellie finished storing the groceries and made a quick sweep through the house to be sure it was clean. A new family would be arriving later that afternoon to spend a few weeks regrouping before they moved on to a new life.
Satisfied that the house was ready for its new occupants, Liz led Ellie through the garage to the Happy Maids vehicle. The walk through the downstairs to the garage reminded her that she was content, happy with her life. She was smarter now and more confident than she had been when she was married. Surely she could handle being on the periphery of Cain’s life.
The following Friday morning when it was time to clean Cain’s house again, she sat in the bright yellow Happy Maids car a few houses down from Cain’s, telling herself it wouldn’t matter what she found. If the cupboards were bare, she wouldn’t worry about whether or not he was eating. She would assume he was dining out. If his mail sat unopened, she’d dust around it. Even if there were lace panties between the sheets, she would not care.
Fortified, she waited until he pulled his gorgeous black Porsche out of his driveway and headed in the other direction. But just as their encounter the week before had brought back memories of happier times, see-ing him in the Porsche reminded her of their rides along the ocean. With the convertible top down. The wind whipping her hair in all directions.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Their marriage had been abysmal. He was a withdrawn workaholic. Though his brother’s death had caused him to stop talking almost completely, she’d seen signs that Cain might not be as involved in their relationship as she was during their six-month courtship. Canceled plans. Meetings that were more important than weekends with her. It had been an impulsive, reckless decision to marry. When she was his girlfriend, he at least tried to make time for her when she visited from Philadelphia. When she became his wife, he didn’t feel the need to do that and she’d been miserably alone. When they actually did have time together, he’d been antsy, obviously thinking about his company and the work he could be doing. He’d never even tried to squeeze her into his life. So why wasn’t she remembering that?
Fortified again, she slid the Happy Maids car into his drive and entered his house. As she’d noticed the week before, there were no personal touches. No pictures. No awards. No memorabilia.
Glancing around, she realized how easy it would be to pretend it was the home of a stranger. Releasing any thought of Cain from her mind and focusing on doing the best possible job for her “client,” she cleaned quickly and efficiently. When she was done, she locked up and left as if this job were any other.
The following week, she decided that her mistake the Friday before had been watching him leave for work, seeing him in “their” beautiful Porsche. So she shifted his house from the first on her list to the second, and knew he was already gone by the time she got there. As she punched that week’s code into the alarm to disable it and unlocked the kitchen door, she once again blanked her mind of any thought of Cain, pretending this was the house of a stranger.
Tossing the first load of laundry into the washer, she thought she heard a noise. She stopped, listened, but didn’t hear it again. She returned to the kitchen and didn’t hear any more noise, but something felt off. She told herself she was imagining things, stacked dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on.
She spent the next hour cleaning the downstairs in between trips to the laundry room. When the laundry was folded, she walked up the cherrywood staircase to the second floor. Humming a bit, happy with how well she was managing to keep her focus off the house’s owner, she shouldered open the master bedroom door and gasped.
Damn.
“Who is it?”
The scratchy voice that came from the bed didn’t sound like Cain’s at all. But even in the dim light of his room, she could see it was him.
“It’s me. Liz. Cleaning your house.”
“Liz?”
His weak voice panicked her and she set the stack of clean laundry on the mirrored vanity and raced to the bed. His dark hair was soaked with sweat and spiked out in all directions. Black stubble covered his chin and cheeks.
“My wife, Liz?” he asked groggily.
“Ex-wife.” She pressed her hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up!”
Not waiting for a reply, she rushed into the master bathroom and searched through the drawers of the cherrywood vanity of the double sinks looking for something that might help him. Among the various toiletries, she eventually found some aspirin. She ran tap water into the glass and raced back to the bed.
Handing two aspirin and the water to him, she said, “Here.”
He took the pills, but didn’t say anything. As he passed the water glass back to her, he caught her gaze. His dark eyes were shiny from the effects of the fever, so she wasn’t surprised when he lay down and immediately drifted off to sleep again.
She took the glass downstairs and put it in the sink. Telling herself to forget he was in the bedroom, she finished cleaning but couldn’t leave in good conscience without checking up on him.
When