"They were just happy I was going to college. Any college. I was the first one in my family."
"They still live in…sorry, where was it?"
"So you still haven't read my file," I say with a smile. "It's this small town called Haverbrook, east of here—no one's ever heard of it. And no, they don't, they're divorced. My mom lives in Florida near her brother's family, and my dad's in California."
"You see them often?"
"Not really, no."
"Long story?"
"Long story."
A silence falls over us. With my eyes downcast, I can still just see his long finger rubbing against the top of his glass, back and forth, back and forth.
"You are younger than me, and you're my employee," he murmurs. My eyes flick back up to his. "I would be opening myself up to the possibility of a lawsuit. Especially with what happened to Jody…the press is already going to have a field day with that."
"It's alright, you don't have to explain," I whisper, looking back down at my hands. "It was my mistake. God, I'm embarrassed."
"No, you misunderstand. These aren't excuses. I kissed you."
"But I was the one who—"
"Cora. You are…if the situation were different…" he trails off. "I'd like to consider us friends. I find…I don't have many moments in my life when I can relax and be myself. Talking to you lately, I'm reminded how much I wear a mask in my life. It's a relief to take it off." I feel aware of every molecule of air entering my body, and my heartbeat sounds so loud in my ears. "I've made you uncomfortable."
"No. I just…I feel the same way."
"Good," he says, and takes another sip of whiskey. I follow suit, trying to digest everything he just said, and almost spit the fiery drink back in the glass. I look up to see him grinning at me.
"Well, I did say I wasn't much of a whiskey drinker," I say. "I should get to bed." I think a slight look of disappointment crosses his face, but he nods. I rise and take my glass with me to the door.
"Will you join me again tomorrow night? You don't have to drink whiskey, or anything else, for that matter."
"Alright. Goodnight, Mr. Redmond."
"Goodnight." I walk toward the kitchen, thinking how strange it felt to call him Mr. Redmond just then. I certainly never had any conversations like that with either of the Akermans. And then he asked me to 'join him' again tomorrow night…which felt like somewhere between a request from my boss and a friendly invitation.
He did seem to be saying he'd like to be more than friends, I think as I turn on the dishwasher. But even being friends with him feels strange. I mean, I wash his sheets. And his underwear. Briefs, black.
Chapter Ten
As I sit at the kitchen table polishing the silver, I catch a glimpse of myself in the teapot's warped reflection. I'm smiling, I realize with surprise. Happiness has crept onto the edges of my life so quietly that I didn't even notice it. I feel a stab of guilt as I press my cloth back into the polish. I don't deserve happiness. No one responsible for their own sister's death does.
It's Mr. Redmond, and the familiar routine I've settled into here, that's what's to blame. Almost every night for the last couple weeks I've joined him in his study for a nightcap, except on nights when he's hosting a party. On those nights I tend to be asleep before the last guests have even left.
"Was that the doorbell?" I hear Kristine Harrington ask from behind me, and turn to see her standing in the doorway.
"No, I'm sorry, Ms. Harrington," I reply, smiling at the rather high strung brunette.
"Ugh, where is she?" she mutters, dialing a number on her cell phone. She wanders into the kitchen and leans against the island as I continue with my work. She and Mark came over earlier in the afternoon and have been waiting for the fourth member of their group to show up. "Becca! Why haven't you been answering? Where are you?" she exclaims into the phone. I prick up my ears. I love that people don't care if the maid overhears their conversations. I pick up a lot. "Seriously? You've been begging me for this setup for months…why would you get wasted last night? No, I'm not going to set you up with Brent again! This was the only time he could do for months and it was a favor to you—it's not like he needs help in the dating department!" She hangs up her phone with an exclamation of annoyance.
I feel a pang of jealousy at hearing her last comment. I mean, obviously Mr. Redmond must have women throwing themselves at him, though I'm glad I've never had to witness it personally. I wonder if Kristine ever regrets her decision to dump him and go after his friend Mark. I mean, Mark is great—funny, smart, friendly—but he's no Brent Redmond.