He drew the car to a stop when he reached his front gates. He reached up to the sun visor and punched in the gate access code. The black iron gates made a slight lurching sound as they swung outward. Just as Justin tapped his foot on the accelerator, a brightly painted vintage VW bus came barreling down his drive, headed straight toward him. He barely had time to slip into reverse and back up onto the shoulder before the Volkswagen trundled through the gates and came to a screeching halt.
“Hello,” a female voice called to him. “Mr. Lockheed, I presume?”
Justin nodded. Who was this woman and what was she doing racing down his drive? “Can I help you?”
“I’m Summer from Mermaid, Inc. Cleaning.” The woman popped open her van door and slid out of the vehicle.
He tried not to stare as he got out to greet her. It was as if a relic from the ‘60’s had come to life. Her hair was silver gray, parted neatly down the middle and she wore her braids over her shoulders. Her tie dye caftan ended just above the ankles which made her woven leather sandals visible. She strode toward his car and thrust her hand toward him.
“I’ve just settled your new maid into your house,” she said. Her enthusiastic tone made it sound like this was a good thing.
“New maid?” Justin realized he probably sounded like the village idiot repeating her words but he was trying to put two and two together. So far he wasn’t getting four. “What happened to the old one?” He shook his head. “I mean, where is Mrs. Lyons?”
“On her way to visit her niece in Calgary. I saw her off myself.” Summer cocked her head. “Did you forget she was taking a few weeks of vacation leave?”
He had. Not completely. He did remember that his housekeeper had left him a note explaining that she would actually be using her vacation days this year instead of taking a check for the vacation pay. In turn he’d left her a note approving her request and asking her to arrange for someone to come in while she was absent. Such was the beauty of their relationship that they communicated almost exclusively through notes left on the kitchen counter. He frowned. Had she left him a note regarding her leave after that first one? He couldn’t remember.
Mrs. Lyons was discreet, unobtrusive, meticulously clean, and a good cook. She was dependable, quiet, and quite pleased with her detached guest house quarters. She cleaned, she cooked, she stayed out of his way. For his part, Justin paid her well, didn’t micromanage her choices, and trusted her implicitly. It seemed now that this trust was being put to the test. He would just have to have faith that his housekeeper had found a temporary version of herself to fill in for three weeks.
He turned his attention back to the woman in tie dye. “I’m afraid I did forget.” He glanced up the drive. “So we’re all set then?”
“More or less.”
“By that you mean…”
“Well, there’s just one little thing. Mrs. Lyons told me that there are some plumbing issues with the guest house that needed work. So she’s arranged for a plumbing crew to come out sometime this week. She was concerned that Miranda wouldn’t be comfortable enough so she has set her up with a room in the main house.”
The last words came out in such a rush that Justin was sure he’d heard them wrong. “My house?”
“Well, yes, we certainly couldn’t leave Miranda sleeping under the cypress tree, now could we?”
That sounded like a much better arrangement to Justin’s mind but he refrained from saying so. If this Miranda was as old as Mrs. Lyons, she’d doubtless prefer a cushy mattress in one of the guest rooms. “I’m not entirely certain this is going to work out-”
“Of course it will,” the woman interrupted him. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased with our services. At Mermaid Inc. we pride ourselves on our workers.”
Justin watched helplessly as she got into her VW and took off. Mermaid Inc.? What kind of name was that for a cleaning service? He got back in the car and slammed the door, his frustration levels reaching a record high. The gates had closed during the time he’d been speaking with her so he punched in the access code again. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.
At work they’d thrown him in the deep end with this whaling account. Now, it appeared that his orderly home life was about to encounter a minor disruption with having an unfamiliar, elderly woman living in his house. He groaned. His day just couldn’t get any stranger.
***
“Oh, Goldie, this is so disgusting. More scallops.” Miranda took a plastic wrapped bag from the big, silver steel cold box and threw it into the garbage. “I can’t even stand to look at it. Gross. It’s like I’m suddenly an undertaker.”
She pulled out yet another bag of shrimp and tossed it into the trash with all the others. At Goldie’s suggestion, she’d looked in the box he’d called a freezer for something to serve for dinner. So far she’d unearthed crab legs, lobster tails, and copious amounts of shrimp. She reached in once more and pulled out a white paper wrapped parcel. Wild Alaskan salmon. Her stomach turned over as she pitched it in the garbage pail with the others. “All that carnage, it’s heartbreaking. I can’t face anymore today.”
Goldie perched on the back rung of a bar stool. “Cooking is part of your job, fish face. So you’d better come up with something.”
Miranda turned toward him. “Call me fish face one more time and I’m sure I can serve up some form of poultry tonight.”
The macaw squawked. “Got it, deep six the fish face.” He bobbed his head from side to side. “But you’re going to have to come up with something to feed the carnivore.”
“I’ll worry about that later.” Miranda bent over the rubbish and tied up the plastic rubbish bag. “Where can I get rid of this?”
“Don’t you think you’d better change first?”
Miranda looked down at her bikini. “Why?”
“Maids don’t wear their swim apparel in the house, toots.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” She put the garbage back under the sink and washed her hands. She dried them on a small scratchy towel and leaned against the cold granite counter. “Any idea what should I wear instead?”
“Summer left you a little skimpy French maid’s outfit in your room. She picked it up at a costume shop-”
“What in God’s name is going on here?” a rich deep voice drowned out Goldie’s squawks.
Miranda whirled around. A man stood in the kitchen entryway. Miranda gave him the once over. He was wearing dark gray pants and white long sleeve shirt with a red strip of fabric around his neck. He held a leather case in one hand and a handful of funny shaped metal sticks in the other. His hair was a shade of dark brown that matched his eyes. Miranda liked what she saw. She wasn’t sure how a human woman would label him but she thought he was gorgeous. She smiled. “Hi. Who are you?”
He stared at her. “Who am I?” he repeated as if it were the last question on earth he’d expected to hear.
“Oh, he’s a genius, this one,” Goldie piped up. “We’ve got a one man brain trust here.”
The sound of the macaw appeared to shake the man free from his confused state. He looked first at the bird and then at Miranda, his eyes traveled the length of her bikini clad body before he met her gaze.
A jolt of energy ran through Miranda as she and the man stared at each other. She wiggled her toes when the funny sensation reached them. She hadn’t felt this way any other time she’d seen humans.
“Oh, so it’s going to be like this, is it?” Goldie interrupted the moment. “Sheesh, I can’t believe I signed on for this.”
The man tore his gaze away from her and looked at the macaw as if seeing it for the first time. “What is that?”
“That’s Goldie.”
“Goldie?”
“And I’m Miranda, your new maid.” She stepped forward and held out her hand just like Goldie had instructed her to earlier. She wanted to make a good first impression and appear as professional as possible. “Welcome home.”
Chapter Four
Welcome home? Justin glanced around the kitchen. It looked like his home. He recognized the dark oak cabinets and pictures he’d hung on the walls. The granite countertops were the same ones he’d picked out, ditto for the stainless steel appliances. But his home was orderly, quiet, neat. This kitchen was a certifiable disaster zone. The counter was littered with the contents of his fridge and pantry. And what was it that he smelled? The scent of seafood permeated the air but a quick glance told him that nothing was either in the oven or on the stove.
His gaze finally settled on the gorgeous redhead in a white bikini standing in the middle of his kitchen. New maid? Is that what she’d said? He opened his mouth to speak but an ear splitting shriek from the other side of the room cut him off. He whirled around. A blue and gold bird sat perched on the back of a kitchen chair. He stared at the bird for a long minute to make sure he wasn’t imaging things.
He pointed to Goldie. “What is that? I mean, I know what it is, but why is it here? Who told you that you could bring an animal into my home? Was it that hippie woman, Summer something-or-other?” He took a quick breath and barreled ahead because he was on a roll now. “Because I assure you, I never authorized that.”
“Is it my turn to talk?”
Justin nodded. Miranda’s voice was gentle and soft. And calm, very unlike his own tone. The polite thing to do would be to let her have a turn. “Go ahead.”
She smiled. “Thank you. The bird’s name is Goldie. And he’s not my bird, he’s yours.” She looked around as if she’d misplaced something. “He was delivered today. A letter came with him. I put it somewhere, I just don’t remember where exactly.”
“But who would send me a bird? I don’t want a bird, certainly not one that loud.” Justin flinched when the macaw made another high pitched noise. “Do you remember who it was that delivered him? Surely we can call them and arrange to send it back.”
His new maid shook her head. “You can’t. I mean, you probably shouldn’t. Goldie was a gift from the Morimoto headquarters. I don’t think it would look right for you to refuse their gift when you’re so new on the account.”
Justin tossed his briefcase on the counter. “When I’m so new…what do you know about my job?” He thought a moment. “And how do you know the bird’s name is Goldie?”
“He told me.”
“He told you?” Justin dropped his keys onto the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “The bird told you his name was Goldie?”
A small, knowing smile played on Miranda’s lips. “Of course not, the delivery person told me.”
“Where’s its cage?” Justin asked. The last thing he needed running amok through his house was a bird.
He watched as Miranda glanced at the macaw. It was almost as if she was waiting for it to answer the question. No, that was crazy. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. The bird needed to be put outside, he needed to get control of the situation, and above all else, his new maid needed to put on some clothes. Her bikini fit her so perfectly that it looked like it was molded to her body. Not that she didn’t look like a million dollars in it, she did. But if he was going to be able to think straight, she needed to be wearing several more layers. At least.
“Are you okay?” she asked him.
“I’m fine,” he lied. He wasn’t though. He wanted to grab a cold beer and pretend this wasn’t happening. Except that it was. “Can you go get dressed please?”
“Of course, I’ll see what I can find to put on,” she said.
Justin moved aside as she passed him. He watched her walk down the hallway. Something about the way she moved was vaguely familiar. But it was only when she stumbled and leaned against the wall for support that it hit him. His new maid was the same woman he’d seen down on the beach that morning. She had to be. After all, how many clumsy but gorgeous redheads in white bikinis could there possibly be? What had she been doing on the beach?
***
Justin had just popped the tab on a can of beer when Miranda came back into the kitchen. He was glad he hadn’t taken a sip, he’d likely have spit it right back out when he caught sight of what she was wearing. Or half wearing.
Transfixed by the sight of her, he stared as she came toward him. Her bikini was gone. In its place was a black mini dress that left little to his imagination. The skirt was short, the scoop neckline was far from modest, and when she gathered her hair over one shoulder and turned around, he saw that her bare back was exposed.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Would you mind? I can’t get it closed properly.”
Slowly Justin put his beer can on the counter. “Your zipper is stuck?” His voice sounded uneven. “Where did you get this get up?”
“Stuck? I don’t know. Can you check please?” She waited expectantly. “Doesn’t your other maid wear something like this?”
A sudden vision of the comparatively ancient Mrs. Lyons flashed through his mind. She tended to wear dowdy cardigans, polyester pants, and sensible shoes. “Not even close.”
Because she didn’t seem inclined to move until he did what she asked, Justin reached out and zipped up Miranda’s dress. So strong was his reaction when his fingers brushed her skin, that he breathed a sigh of relief when she took a few steps away. But the casual way she shook her hair out over her shoulders nearly undid him. Her staying here in the house was so not going to work.
“Listen, Ms. -” he stopped when he realized he didn’t know her full name. “Your employer didn’t mention your last name. What is it?”
She stared at him for a long moment as if he’d asked the question in Swahili instead of English. “De La Playa,” she finally said with a tentative smile.
“Right then, Ms. De La Playa, I don’t think that this arrangement is going to work-”
“Speaking of work,” she broke in, “I am going to find you a snack.” She slipped past him and opened the pantry doors. “Why don’t you go and do whatever it is that you do. I’ll bring a plate in to you.”
Justin cast a doubtful look at his briefcase. “Well, I do have some work to do before my morning meeting.” Truthfully he just couldn’t bear the idea of having to fire Miranda. Not after the day he’d had.
It would be far better to call the Mermaid Inc. woman in the morning and instruct her to bring over a replacement. He grabbed his briefcase, turned to go, but then remembered the macaw. “What about the bird?”
Miranda leaned around the pantry door and smiled brightly. “Goldie? He’s outside. But that’s a good idea, I’ll get him something to eat too.”
***
Miranda waited until Justin was out of hearing before she opened the French doors that led out to the covered, outdoor eating area. She looked around frantically for the macaw. “Goldie? I need help. Where are you?” She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure that Justin hadn’t come back into the kitchen for anything. “Come on, Goldie. I’m serious. Get in here.”
“Please, toots. Say please.”
Miranda swung around to the left. It sounded like the bird’s voice came from a lemon tree. She walked over and peered up into the branches. Amidst the green leaves and yellow fruit, she spotted a mass of blue feathers. “Please, Goldie, pretty please if you prefer. Just come and help me.”
She breathed a sigh of relief when Goldie hooked his bill onto the branch below him and swung down, continuing his way down branch by branch until he jumped onto the grass. “Let’s go get my dinner. I want a sliced and diced fruit plate.”
Miranda trailed after him. “Never mind what you want, what should I feed Justin?”
Goldie made a funny noise. “Ha, by the way he was looking at you in that bikini, I’d say you could offer up yourself to him and he wouldn’t complain.”
“Please try to be more helpful, Goldie.” She paused with her hand on the door handle. “And please be quiet in there. You’re not here to cause trouble for me.”
Trouble was exactly what she was in, she decided as she surveyed an arrangement of food on the c
ounter. Most of the items she’d pulled from the pantry and refrigerator she didn’t recognize. Just what went with what, she didn’t know. But the green olives with red pimentos were nice and colorful. The white fluffy cube shaped things called marshmallows made for a nice contrast, especially when she placed a lemon she’d plucked from the tree outside next to them. “There, doesn’t that look lovely?”
Goldie cocked his head to the side. “The human appetite is a strange thing indeed.”
Miranda nodded. “So are human knees. Mine feel fine now, but when Justin was in the room they felt shaky. It’s odd because when he left, they felt normal again.” She picked up the plate and headed through the archway and down the hall in the direction Justin had gone in.
She peeked into three different rooms before she found him. She stepped into the dimly lit room. “I hope you’re hungry…” the rest of her words died on her lips. She stared at the wall. There was a whale on it.
“Oh,” Miranda plunked the dinner plate on the table in front of Justin. Mesmerized, she walked toward the box on the wall. A magnificent humpback whale moved gracefully through the blue water. What was this? With a tentative hand she reached out to touch it but drew her hand back when the surface she touched was hard and dry. It was like magic. She turned to look at Justin.
But he was looking at his plate.
“What is this?” he asked in a voice that Miranda didn’t think sounded overly pleased.
“Your dinner.” Miranda pointed to the flat hard surface where the whale had been. Now the box showed a person speaking but not loudly enough that she could make out the words. “What is that?”
When Justin looked up from the plate and met her gaze, a funny something she couldn’t explain rippled through her body. Again she gestured toward the box with the moving pictures. “Where did the whale come from?”
Mermaid Inc. Page 3
