An awkward silence followed this awkward exchange. Ethan held Hayley’s gaze. She held his. She felt slightly sick to her stomach. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it, to capture Ethan’s interest? But no. Not like this. Not like—
“I should get back to the others,” Hayley blurted.
Ethan cleared his throat and nodded. “Right. See you tomorrow.”
Hayley hurried back to the table.
“So, who was that?” Cathi asked when Hayley had slipped into her seat. “He’s very attractive.”
“He looks like that guy from Grantchester,” Michelle said. “The one who plays the vicar. Swoon! Or, wait, maybe that guy from Outlander, the one who plays Jamie! Double swoon!”
“He’s the son of my boss,” Hayley explained. “He lives in Connecticut, but he comes to visit his sisters. Well, his half sisters.”
“Does this person have a name?” Cathi asked.
Hayley took a sip of her beer before answering. “Ethan,” she told them.
Michelle leaned in. “Are you . . .”
“Absolutely not!” Hayley declared.
“Wise,” Cathi said. “It’s never a good idea to get too close to an employer—or his handsome son.”
Sarah nodded. “It’s always an abuse of power when someone in charge allows himself to get sexually involved with an underling.”
“Did I ever tell you guys about my friend Jessica?” Michelle asked. “About three years ago she fell hard for the son of the family for whom she was working. His parents found out and threatened to cut him off without a dime if he didn’t drop Jessica, and of course he did. She was heartbroken.”
Hayley took another sip of her beer; her throat suddenly felt parched. Back when she had decided on her so-called plan to ensnare Ethan into marriage she hadn’t considered the possibility that opposition from the Whitbys might prevent anything at all from happening. God, how stupid she had been!
“It’s like we’re servants really, not employees,” Sarah was saying. “And we’re certainly not members of the family no matter how much we kid ourselves that we matter.”
Michelle nodded. “And yet sometimes they act like we’re part of the family. Don’t spread it around, but both Mr. and Mrs. Morris walk around in their underwear. At first I was like, what? And then I realized it’s just what they do when they’re home.”
“That sort of behavior isn’t about considering you part of the family,” Sarah contradicted. “That’s about their not acknowledging that you’re a person. Take my bosses. They talk about all sorts of personal things right in front of me. It’s as if they think I’m just part of the furniture. It never seems to occur to them that if I was an unscrupulous sort I could very easily tell the entire town their personal business or use the information to my advantage.”
“So, Hayley,” Michelle asked, “tell us what oddities you’ve been subject to under the Whitby roof?”
“None, actually,” Hayley said.
Cathi laughed. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me that like Amy you’re in awe of your employer?”
“Not at all,” Hayley assured the others. “I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Whitby have their quirks and their quarrels but never when I’m around. They treat me as a professional. They treat me with respect.” And how, Hayley wondered, had she repaid that respect? By scheming and lying and . . .
Sarah frowned. “Lucky you.”
“I wonder if Elizabeth deludes herself into thinking she’s part of the Buchanan family,” Cathi mused.
Sarah shook her head. “More’s the pity if she does. And I bet Madeleine believes her perfect employers consider her indispensable. She’s so complacent about her position with them. It drives me nuts when she goes on about all the perks she gets. Like going to the theatre tonight.”
“I wouldn’t want to spend my free time socializing with my boss!” Michelle shuddered.
“Hey, Hayley,” Cathi said, “what’s with Amy and the Priors? What do they really need her for?”
Hayley shrugged. She didn’t feel comfortable giving an opinion on Amy’s unusual arrangement with the Priors, especially when Amy wasn’t present. “I have no idea,” she said.
Michelle laughed. “It’s not Will Prior who wants her around. It’s Cressida who needs Amy at her beck and call.”
“It kind of gives me the creeps,” Sarah admitted. “Something about the way Amy talks about her boss seems wrong.”
Cathi leaned in, her eyes wide. “Do you think there’s something sexual going on?”
“No,” Hayley said firmly. “It’s not sexual.”
“What we do is so, I don’t know, so boring,” Sarah pronounced.
“I hardly think caring for someone else’s children counts as boring,” Cathi argued. “I think it’s pretty important. Okay, even when it’s boring.”
Michelle grinned. “I love those psycho nannies from the movies. The Hand That Rocks the Cradle always freaks me out, no matter how often I see it.”
“Ugh,” Cathi said with a grimace. “I hate horror stories. Give me Jane Eyre any day. I love how Jane Eyre stands up to Rochester, knowing he could fire her and she’d be nowhere. And then when she comes back to him in the end, knowing she’s facing social ruin but willing to do so just to be with him. Sigh. So romantic.”
Sarah shuddered. “So sickening, you mean. Jane Eyre is a horror story! Rochester is a monster! Keeping his insane wife locked up like an animal and trying to trick Jane into marrying him, which would totally ruin her if the truth that he was already married ever came out. Selfish bastard.”
“Yeah, but Rochester says he was tricked into the marriage to Bertha,” Cathi argued. “He married her for her money without knowing she was mad. What choice did he have once he discovered the truth but to lock her up to keep her from harming anyone? Insane asylums of the time couldn’t have been much better than an old attic.”
Tricking someone into marriage.... Hayley smiled vaguely while the talk flowed on around her. She was acutely aware that Ethan was only yards away. . . .
“Would you ever hire a manny?” Michelle asked the group.
Sarah shook her head. “Absolutely not. I would only hire a woman to watch my kids.”
“Men are nurturing, too,” Cathi pointed out. “I’d rather hire a nice guy than a bitchy girl.”
That comment evoked laughter and agreement. Hayley thought of how good Ethan was with his sisters. He would make a fine father one day. A fine father and a . . . Hayley could no longer resist the desire to turn toward the bar. Ethan was looking directly at her. He smiled, got up from his seat, and lifted a hand in a gesture of farewell. Hayley lifted her own hand in return. She felt a terrible urge to leave with him, to walk along the darkened beach at his side, to feel the warmth of his hand in hers....
Hastily, Hayley turned back to her companions. Each one of the women was eying her with an inquisitive, penetrating look.
“Hey,” Hayley said brightly. “Should we get an order of nachos?”
Chapter 85
Amy had left for work very early that morning at Cressida Prior’s last-minute command. Again, there had been no reason given for the summons. Amy hadn’t had time for coffee or breakfast. Hopefully, Leda thought, Cressida would provide more than cucumber juice or a kale shake for lunch.
Leda looked at her watch. Hayley was coming by shortly to pick up a few fabric samples to show to Marisa Whitby. The day before, Marisa had contacted Leda about ordering a set of throw pillows for her house back in Connecticut. They had discussed ideas, and Leda had offered to drop off a few fabric samples for Marisa to examine. Marisa had thanked Leda for the courtesy. “I’m a bit overwhelmed with my class this week,” she admitted. “I’d love to visit your studio, but at the moment I’m in over my ears!”
But Leda’s plan to deliver the samples to Marisa that morning had been foiled when the dishwasher suddenly wouldn’t function. A repairman was due between eight and noon, which made leaving the house during that window out of the question. And then it had occurred to
Leda that Hayley might be willing to take the samples with her to work. Luckily, she had caught Hayley just as she was getting into her car.
When Hayley arrived, Leda offered her a cup of coffee, which she declined, and then handed Hayley the canvas bag full of fabric samples.
“It’s very nice of you to bring these to Marisa,” she said. “Thank you.”
“It’s no worry,” Hayley assured her.
“What do you think about Amy’s relationship with Cressida Prior?” Leda asked suddenly.
“It doesn’t matter what either of us thinks, does it?” Hayley said. “Amy is obviously smitten, but crushes usually don’t last for very long.”
“I certainly hope this one doesn’t.” Leda hesitated before going on. “Look, you’ll tell me if you see or hear anything, well, anything really worrisome, won’t you?”
“I wouldn’t feel comfortable breaking Amy’s confidence,” Hayley said promptly.
“Of course not. I didn’t mean that.” Leda smiled. “I don’t know what I mean, really.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Latimer. Amy will be fine. The Priors will go back to Atlanta at the end of the summer and Amy will belong to us again.”
“I certainly hope so. Will you apologize to Mrs. Whitby for my not delivering the samples in person?”
“Sure,” Hayley promised.
When Hayley had gone off, Leda went up to her bedroom to get dressed. How sensible and mature Hayley was, Leda thought. Nothing shook her equilibrium for long. And Hayley certainly would never find herself in the situation Amy was in; she was too level headed and sharp eyed to be taken in by anyone.
Leda opened her closet and pulled out a comfortable sheath dress. She so wished Hayley would meet a good man who wouldn’t allow her family’s poor conduct to diminish her value as an intelligent and kindhearted individual. But the question remained, Would Hayley ever allow herself to fall in love and to be happy? Leda had a sorry suspicion that she might not.
Chapter 86
“Um, why did you want me to come in early today?” Amy asked. “I mean, it’s fine,” she added hurriedly, “no problem at all. I just wondered.”
“Because I’ve got an important call at seven-thirty and my idiot husband isn’t here to supervise the children.” Cressida sighed. “He’s gone off to the local emergent care facility.”
Amy’s stomach tingled. “Is he all right?” she asked.
“Of course he’s not all right,” Cressida snapped. “He was bleeding all over the place. It was disgusting.”
Amy didn’t dare ask how Will had gotten hurt. She didn’t want to know that Cressida might have had something to do with it.
“He’ll definitely need stitches,” Cressida went on. “For all I know he might even lose the finger. But that’s his problem. If he’s stupid enough not to know how to properly use a kitchen knife, then he got what he deserved.”
Amy’s stomach felt worse. Cressida’s lack of sympathy was stunning. But maybe cutting his finger with a kitchen knife was something Will was always doing and Cressida was simply tired of his careless behavior.
“I want you to supervise Rhiannon and Jordan while they play chess,” Cressida went on. “I don’t want any interruptions.”
Then she went off to her office for the important call. It was only the second time that summer that Amy had been asked to spend time alone with the children. Suddenly she remembered the bag of casual clothes she had brought to work with her on the first day. The bag was still sitting on the backseat of her car. The shorts and T-shirt were probably a mass of wrinkles by now.
Rhiannon and Jordan were in the living room, seated across from each other at the low coffee table. Amy wondered if Cressida knew that her children sat on the floor. Even though the house was kept spotless by a team of cleaners, Cressida wasn’t likely to tolerate her family sitting anywhere other than on raised and sterilized surfaces.
“Hi,” Amy said. She sat on the couch. It was as hard and unforgiving as a park bench. Rhiannon, staring hard at the chess board, ignored her. Jordan gave her a small smile.
Though Amy was very sorry Will was hurt, she was kind of glad he wasn’t around. She felt so embarrassed in his presence. She wondered if he knew that his wife routinely bad-mouthed him. He didn’t seem downtrodden or depressed, but he had to be. No one could be entirely immune to abusive behavior.
Amy was beginning to suspect that Will stayed in the marriage for the sake of the children; after all, he was obviously the primary caretaker. Maybe Cressida had threatened to withhold custody should he decide to leave. And why didn’t Cressida leave the marriage if she despised Will so much? Then again, Cressida’s marriage wasn’t her business. But Cressida had made it Amy’s business by telling her things she probably had no right to know, like that Will wore boxers instead of briefs and that he suffered from indigestion.
“That wasn’t a smart move.”
Amy startled. She had almost forgotten the children were there.
Jordan frowned. “Yes, it was.”
“Amy?” Rhiannon asked. “What do you think?”
“I’m sorry,” Amy said. “I don’t know anything about chess.” So much for meeting the children’s intellectual needs, she thought.
Jordan looked back to the chessboard. Amy shifted uncomfortably on the couch. She wondered what the children really thought of her, when they thought of her at all. Rhiannon often looked at her with a sort of detached, critical gaze; clearly, she had been assessing Amy in relation to “the other one.” Amy thought that Jordan might actually like her but that his shyness prevented him from reaching out to her. His shyness and the fact that his mother rarely allowed Amy any interaction with the children.
Rapid footsteps on the stairs alerted Amy to the fact that Cressida was returning to the living room. Oddly, she didn’t scold the children for sitting on the floor.
“Your father called,” she announced. “He’s on his way home.”
“Is Daddy okay?” Jordan asked.
Cressida rolled her eyes. “He didn’t lose his finger if that’s what you’re asking.”
The little boy flinched. Rhiannon put her hand on his back and led him from the room.
“You should do something different with your hair, Aimee,” Cressida said with a frown. “Those curls aren’t doing you any favors. They make you look immature.”
Amy managed a smile. “Okay,” she said.
“I’m going for a run. Don’t let the children cause trouble.”
When Cressida had gone, Amy put her head in her hands. Why was Cressida always telling her to change? Why was she always finding fault? Amy raised her head and sighed. Maybe Cressida wouldn’t mention the job offer in Atlanta again and Amy would never have to give an answer either way. In spite of what she had told Hayley, the idea of moving away with the Priors had come to seem totally unappealing. At the same time, Amy knew she had a very difficult time saying no to her boss. Sitting on the hard couch in this sterile house by the sea, Amy felt trapped by her own weakness.
Suddenly Jordan reappeared. Amy hadn’t heard him coming. The boy made so little noise, not like most boys his age.
“I can’t get this open,” he said, holding out a tube of craft glue. “Can you help me?”
“Sure,” Amy said. She was pleased to be of some use to one of the children, and getting the cap off a tube of craft glue was certainly something she could handle. Unlike advice about chess. “Here you go.” Amy smiled and handed the opened tube back to Jordan.
“You’re nice,” the little boy said.
Nicer than “the other one,” Amy wondered. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re nice, too.”
As quietly as he had come, Jordan left the room. A moment later the sound of the front door opening followed by a shouted greeting informed Amy that Will was back. She was tempted to tell him that she wasn’t feeling well and that she needed to go home. Will would understand.
But Cressida would not. Besides, Amy thought, if she went home now she
would lose the money she would have earned by staying put. Amy rose from the couch and went to greet Will. She would ask if there was anything she could do to help. She hoped that there was. Taking money for doing nothing was wrong.
Chapter 87
“Nice sneakers,” Marisa said, pointing at Leda’s pale green Keds.
Leda laughed and pointed at Marisa’s identical sneakers. “Great minds think alike. I got mine at Reny’s.”
“Me too.” Marisa looked around the studio. “This is a fantastic space,” she said. “I’m glad my class got cancelled so I could visit.”
“Thanks. The studio was my mother’s before I came to share it with her and eventually, after she died, to take it over entirely.”
“It must have been nice working side by side with your mom.” Marisa laughed. “My mom and I are so totally different we never could share much of anything except a love of cherry pie.”
“So,” Leda said, “you wanted to talk about a custom bedspread and matching pillow shams in addition to the throw pillows?”
“And possibly curtains, if you don’t think that’s too matchy-matchy. I know it’s a bit decadent, but I just can’t seem to find anything I really like in the stores. When Hayley told me about your custom work I thought, Why not? She’s really been a godsend this summer, you know. The girls adore her, and I totally rely on her.”
“She’s an extraordinary young woman,” Leda said, “but I’m not sure she knows it.”
“Has she had it tough?” Marisa asked. “I’ve heard a few rumors at YCC but . . .”
“She’s had a difficult home life, yes. Honestly, she’s like a rose among cacti in that house. The real problem is that Hayley has such an overdeveloped sense of responsibility toward her mother. Too often she ignores her own needs. I just wish . . .” Leda shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve said too much.”
“No worries,” Marisa said. “Mum’s the word.”
Leda opened a book of fabric samples and laid out several photographs of work she had done for other clients. For twenty minutes the two women talked through ideas, and Leda took notes and made sketches. When both felt they had made a good start, Leda brought light refreshments to the studio.
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