Adding Up to Family

by Marie Ferrarella

  The girl had realized where she was heading with this, Becky thought. Most ten-year-olds wouldn’t have. She was right; they had more in common with each other than the little girl thought.

  “I was eighteen,” Becky stated.

  For the first time, Stevi’s bravado slipped just a little, allowing the young, vulnerable girl beneath to show through. She looked at this new housekeeper, clearly impressed. “Really?”

  “Really,” Becky responded.

  Stevi fell silent for a moment and Becky thought that maybe she didn’t believe her. The look on her face was nothing if not suspicious.

  But then, after a moment’s hesitation, the girl asked, “Um, did the other kids—the older kids,” she clarified. “Did they make fun of you?”

  “Some of them did,” Becky admitted. “A lot of them, in fact. When I got older, I realized that was because they didn’t know what to make of me. Later on, some of them admitted that they felt bad that they couldn’t keep up to me, but you know, everyone’s different and everyone has a different talent inside of them, a different gift.

  “They just needed to concentrate on that instead of being angry at me because I got better grades than they did and I could finish tests faster.” Becky paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. When she saw the furrows on Stevi’s brow, she decided to delve a little into her life. “Do other kids make fun of you?”

  “No!” Stevi answered quickly.

  And then, because it was a lie, she relented a little. “Maybe.”

  Not feeling comfortable with that answer, either, she finally sighed deeply and then grudgingly admitted, “Yes.”

  Becky nodded. “You realize that they’re acting angry at you because that’s a lot easier to do than finding fault with themselves.”

  Stevi regarded her doubtfully. And then, because Becky wasn’t backing off, she asked uncertainly, “Really?”

  “Really,” Becky told her with solemn conviction. “Trust me. Years from now, if any of those kids have a brain in their heads, they’re going to realize that they were being very unfair to you, when what they should have been doing was studying harder so that they could get those grades they were so envious of. Or better yet, studying with you and trying to find out just how you were able to manage doing so much better than they did.

  “Right now,” she continued, “you probably feel like you’re all alone, but that’s going to change, I promise. And most of all, you’re going to be the girl who makes it, who becomes somebody, while they, if they don’t start changing and actually applying themselves to their schoolwork, are just going to wind up fading into the background, while you do great things.”

  She could see by Stevi’s expression that the girl wanted to believe her, but still wasn’t sure if she could, or if this was just a lot of talk this new housekeeper was trying to sell her.

  “You think so?”

  Without a single shred of hesitation, Becky stated, “I know so.”

  Stevi still wasn’t 100 percent sold on what she was saying. “But if you were so smart, how come you’re a housekeeper? How come you’re not doing something...bigger?” she finally said, for lack of a better word to describe what she was trying to get across.

  “Well, I wasn’t always one,” Becky confided. “You know what I was before I decided to take a break and become a housekeeper?”

  Confusion and curiosity furrowed the girl’s brow again. “No—what?”

  Becky smiled. Her past life seemed like a million miles away now. “I was an engineer.”

  “Really?” Stevi questioned, a little unclear on how the woman she was talking to could have been one and then the other. The two professions seemed light-years apart.

  “Really,” Becky assured her.

  “Can you do that?” Stevi asked. She was thinking about her father. “Can you just stop being an engineer and become a housekeeper?”

  “I did,” Becky responded.

  “But why would you do that?” Stevi demanded. Her father was totally dedicated to doing what he did, sometimes to the point of staying at work for long hours and coming home after she’d gone to bed. “Didn’t you like being an engineer?”

  “In the beginning, I did. Very much so,” she told Stevi. “But after a while I decided that maybe the pressure was too much. I found I was always working and that it wasn’t fun anymore, not like it used to be. So I decided to take a break for a bit and just smell the roses.”

  “So is that what you did?” Stevi asked, doing her best to understand what this adult was telling her.

  She liked the fact that Becky was talking to her as if she were another grown-up rather than just a little kid. Too many adults treated her as if she couldn’t understand things. Her father wasn’t like that, but lately, communication between them hadn’t been going very well. Like an old train with a faulty wheel, it kept breaking down.

  “Did you go smell roses?” she pressed.

  “Yes,” Becky answered. “I took time to enjoy the things around me.”

  “And being a housekeeper lets you do that?” Stevi was still somewhat unclear about the concept.

  “Well, until now, I’d come to different houses, race around cleaning them up and then go home. This will be my first live-in position. So, like I said earlier, I’m counting on you to help me navigate this whole new career change. I’d like to be the best housekeeper that I can be,” she confided. She looked at Stevi. “So, can I count on your help?” she asked, holding out her hand.

  Stevi looked at it, and after a moment, she grinned broadly and put her hand into Becky’s, shaking it.

  “Yes!” she declared, doing her best to sound grown-up. “You can.”

  Chapter Four

  Steve left work early, which was to say that he actually left on time. As usual, there was enough work on his desk to keep him busy until well after seven o’clock, but since things were still up in the air at home, he thought he should be there at a reasonable time—just in case. After all, this was Rebecca’s first day with Stevi and he didn’t want to take any chances on things going wrong.

  If he were being honest, Rebecca was not the only one who was on trial here. He felt as if he and Stevi were on trial, as well. Quite frankly, both sides were scrutinizing and sizing each other up, seeing if they met the other party’s standards and vice versa.

  As he drove home, he really hoped that Stevi was on her best behavior. He loved his daughter to pieces, and at bottom she was a really good kid, but she could be trying at times, and not everyone—obviously—was up to dealing with a half child, half fledgling woman. He had been through three other housekeepers to prove that, and even the last one, who supposedly left because her daughter was having her first child, had never seemed completely comfortable around Stevi and her endless barrage of questions.

  And Stevi, he knew, had never really taken to the woman, either.

  Finally pulling up into the driveway, Steve released the breath he hadn’t even been conscious of holding until this moment. When he’d turned the corner toward his house, he’d seen Rebecca’s car parked at the curb. That meant that unless the woman had been so terrorized by Stevi that she’d fled on foot, unable to stand being in the same house with her a second longer, Rebecca Reynolds was still in his house.

  There was hope.

  The second he opened the front door, even before he walked in, Steve was aware of an exceptionally tempting aroma swirling around him. He felt his taste buds salivating.

  “Ste—phanie?” he called out, remembering at the last moment to use his daughter’s name of preference. He looked around the empty living room. “Ms. Reynolds?”

  Following his nose, he made his way into the kitchen. And that was where he found both his daughter and his new housekeeper.

  Becky reacted as if she was expecting him. She looked up in his direction. “Dinner will be on
the table in a minute,” she promised.

  “You made dinner?” he asked. He hadn’t expected that. Not yet, anyway.

  She noted his surprise. “Isn’t that what a housekeeper is supposed to do?”

  “Then you’re taking the position?” Steve made no attempt to hide how relieved that made him feel.

  Becky looked at him, a little bemused at his question. “I thought we already settled that.”

  He cleared his throat, taking in all the activity in the kitchen. She’d obviously made dinner, but there were no telltale signs of chaos. Every time he cooked, it seemed to generate five or six pots and pans, no matter how small the meal turned out to be.

  “Well, we did, but I wanted to leave you the option of changing your mind,” he told her. “I mean, in case you felt, after spending some time here, that this wasn’t going to work out,” he added tactfully, slanting a glance in his daughter’s direction. “What are you doing?” he asked, when he realized that Stevi’s arms were filled with a couple of dinner plates.

  Although he thought of Stevi as precocious and definitely on the brilliant side, she didn’t have a domestic bone in her body. He was to blame for that, because he’d never attempted to give her any chores that were remotely domestic in nature. The closest he had ever come to making her do chores was to get her to make her bed, which she reluctantly did. The rest of her room looked as if it was home base for a twister that kept passing through on a regular basis.

  “I’m setting the table,” Stevi informed him, in a voice that indicated he should have figured that out on his own.

  After arranging the plates in the small dining room, Stevi doubled back for the silverware. As he watched her, fascinated, she folded napkins, then placed a knife on each one, on the right side of the plates. She put the forks on the other side.

  Becky nodded her approval at Stevi’s progress. “Don’t forget the glasses,” she reminded her.

  “I’ll do those,” Steve instantly volunteered, envisioning a sudden shower of falling shards of glass if his daughter tripped while carrying the glassware.

  Becky took everything in but said nothing. Turning off the burners, she drained and then transferred the linguine from a pot to a large serving bowl. She did the same for the beef Stroganoff she’d made, then picked up the first bowl and carried it to the table.

  “You made Stroganoff,” Steve suddenly realized. He smiled broadly at the dish on the counter.

  “Stephanie told me that was your favorite,” Becky explained. “I thought it might make a good first meal to serve you.”

  He had a soft spot in his heart for Stroganoff. It was the first dish that his late wife had made for him after they married, although he had to admit that the scent he’d detected back then was of something burning. It had taken Cindy a while before she got the hang of cooking.

  Such was not the problem here.

  And then, as he looked again at the table, Steve saw that there were only two places set, not three. He thought it was an oversight on his daughter’s part.

  “There’s one place setting missing, Stephanie,” he prompted quietly, not wanting to embarrass her.

  “Becky told me to only set two places,” she answered defensively.

  He turned to look at Becky as she set the second serving bowl in the center of the table. “You’re not eating with us?”

  “I can’t,” she told him. “I have to go home and do some packing. When Mrs. Parnell told me about this job, I didn’t realize that if I accepted it, I’d be living here,” she confessed.

  “But you will be back in the morning, right?” he asked uneasily. Now that he’d found someone who was acceptable not only to him, but to Stevi, he didn’t want to take a chance on having her change her mind.

  Becky smiled. “Right.”

  Because he had wound up skipping lunch and had basically subsisted on a candy bar he’d gotten out of the vending machine when his stomach’s growling became too loud to ignore, he was extremely susceptible to the aroma wafting up at him. In short order, he ladled both linguine and a large serving of beef Stroganoff onto his plate as he talked.

  He sat down with his dish. Unable to resist, he took a forkful of linguine and Stroganoff and slid them into his mouth. Whatever he was about to say to Becky instantly slipped his mind as the flavor seized his attention and took him prisoner.

  Wow!

  This woman really was perfect, he couldn’t help thinking.

  “We haven’t talked salary yet,” Steve said, after chewing and swallowing. He didn’t want to lose her on that technicality, and all but sighed as the next forkful disappeared between his lips. “Name your price.”

  Becky laughed, pleased at the compliment he was paying her. “That’s actually something for you and Mrs. Parnell to discuss and decide,” she told him. “And just so you know,” she added, “I had help with the meal.”

  A touch of disappointment nudged him. “You ordered out?” he asked. Takeout had been the meal of choice for his last housekeeper, and the go-to move for the other two more often than not. He’d begun to think that cooking was a lost art—until now. “This has to be from someplace new,” he guessed, because he couldn’t remember having his taste buds tantalized this way before.

  “No,” Becky corrected. “Stephanie and I went grocery shopping together—you hardly have anything in your refrigerator beyond breakfast food,” she explained. “And then we cooked together.”

  “You and Stephanie?” he repeated incredulously. Was she serious?

  “Yes.”

  Only his presence of mind kept his mouth from dropping open. He looked at his daughter in complete astonishment. Stevi had never expressed the slightest interest in cooking before.

  “You helped with this?” he asked in amazement.

  “She most certainly did,” Becky told him. There was a note of pride in her voice that took him by surprise. “If you ask me, I think she’s a natural,” she concluded, winking at his daughter.

  Stevi seemed to beam. For his part, Steve was at a complete loss for words.

  He was still speechless minutes later, as Becky left the house.

  * * *

  “So, how did it go?” Celia asked, doing her best to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

  Becky had hardly had time to walk into her apartment and lock the door behind her before her cell phone began ringing. Dropping her purse on the floor, she glanced at the caller ID on the phone’s screen before she answered. All she had time to say was “Hello” before Celia asked her the all-important question.

  “Very well, I think. And you’re right,” Becky added with a smile as she sat down on her sofa. “His daughter does remind me of me when I was her age.”

  Celia immediately got to the heart of the matter. “Did you have any trouble getting along with Stephanie?”

  Celia wanted to make sure that Becky was happy with this choice. Even if she felt she had brought the right two people together, she didn’t want to impose her will on either of them, especially not on a young woman she had grown particularly fond of over the last three years.

  “It was a little awkward at first,” Becky admitted. She tucked her legs under her. “I think that’s because she’s had a few less-than-satisfying relationships with the housekeepers her father hired in the past. But it didn’t take me much time to get her to open up just a little. More will take a while,” Becky freely admitted. “After all, the process does require time, but I feel like we’ve made a really good start.”

  “I’m so very glad to hear that,” Celia told her. “But to be honest, I also hear something else in your voice.”

  Becky wasn’t sure she understood what the woman was getting at. She didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. “Mrs. Parnell, I don’t think that I under—”

  “I hear some hesitation in your voice, Becky,” Celia told her honestly
. “Is there anything wrong?”

  The woman’s concern was gratifying, Becky thought. But she was quick to set her mind at ease. “Oh no, not with them,” she assured her employer.

  “Well, whatever’s wrong is certainly not with you,” Celia responded. “But I can tell that there’s something bothering you...”

  Becky sighed. Since the woman was asking, she didn’t try to put her off. That would be lying. “To be honest, it’s about my apartment.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, I didn’t realize that this was going to be a live-in position,” Becky explained. “I understand that for the sake of his daughter, Mr. Holder wants me to be accessible...”

  Celia was doing her best to grasp what the problem was. “And you don’t want to live in his house?”

  “Oh no, it’s not that. It would actually make things easier if I lived there. But when I moved into my apartment, I signed this lease, and it has over a year left on it,” she explained with a sigh. “Paying for an apartment that I’m not living in seems rather extravagant, but I can’t just break the lease, so I’m going to be stuck paying for a place that I’m not really using—”

  Celia cut in, relieved that this so-called problem was something she could easily tackle.

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” she assured her. “One of my very dearest friends is in real estate. She can find someone to sublet your apartment faster than you can say ‘month-to-month.’”

  “Really?” Becky cried, relieved. “Because I’m not sure how long this job is going to last.”

  “Oh?” Was there something Becky hadn’t mentioned yet? From what Celia understood, Steve Holder was hoping this would be a permanent position if Stephanie liked the woman, and it seemed that she did.

  Becky did her best to explain. “I mean...well, you might as well know, Mrs. Parnell, that the last time I talked to my mother, I promised her I’d think about going back to engineering.”

  “I understand, dear,” Celia said sympathetically. She did her best not to sound too cheerful. She didn’t want Becky to ask any questions and she definitely didn’t want her figuring out that this was all part of a plan to make her mother’s fondest wish come true. “But while you’re thinking about it, you can be there, helping out Mr. Holder, can’t you?”