"Oh, that's right, you went to art school! What kind of things do you do? Not those crazy performance-type pieces, I hope."
I smile. "Well, I haven't done anything since…not in a long time. I used to do oils, though."
She raises her narrow eyebrows. "Oils! Fancy!" She moves her mouse over and I see her eyes begin to scroll down the page. "And you want another live-in situation, is that right?"
"That's right."
"Let's see what we have. No…no…that's been filled," she says looking through the available postings for domestic workers. "Hm, it's a little dry at the moment." I see her gaze stop for a moment, and she glances at me. "Well, I have one…no, never mind."
"I'm not picky, really. I know they can't all be plum assignments like my last one."
"Well, this one is actually quite a good setup," she says, turning to me with her lips pressed in a thin line. "It pays over fifty percent more than anything else we have right now, and it comes with generous health benefits and a nice private room. It might be a bit more traditional than your last placement. You'll be expected to wear a uniform and help with table service in addition to cleaning…"
She trails off, and I sense that the uniform isn't her big concern. "But…" I prod her.
"It's a big but, Cora, really," she says, leaning forward and interlacing her fingers on the desk. "The last young woman I placed there, Jody Hall, she—oh dear, I don't know if the police have even released her name yet..."
"The police?" I repeat.
"Yes, Jody, she…she disappeared, actually. A month ago. It's been kept rather quiet so far."
"Oh, god. And the police don't know what happened?"
"No. It's like she vanished into thin air. I have no reason to believe it had anything to do with the job, you understand," she says, reaching across the desk, "but of course it puts a lot of people off, and we haven't been able to fill the position since it was…vacated, despite the fact that he keeps increasing the salary."
"He?"
"Oh, I didn't even say. You would be the maid at Brent Redmond's estate," she says meaningfully. I stare at her blankly. "Brent Redmond. The Brent Redmond. You know, the real estate tycoon? And the most eligible bachelor in Boston since Tom Brady got scooped up?"
"I don't really follow the news," I tell her by way of an excuse. "I mean, you know, I try to stay current on the international things…"
She looks horrified. "Well, anyway, I try not to place any girls with looks like yours in these kind of situations so that no one thinks I've got a matchmaking service going here or anything, and Jody was really quite plain-looking—I think it's OK to say that."
"You really don't have to worry about anything like that with me. I won't be tempted," I assure her emphatically, and I'm not just angling for the job. The last time I felt attracted to any man was a little more than three and a half years ago. Since then, I've felt not even a single butterfly in my stomach over anyone.
"I just want you to have all the facts. I mean, I've just been so worried about Jody, and then if anything happened to you…I don't want you to feel any pressure to take this job, Cora, I really don't. I might not have any other openings now, but something will come up soon."
I take a deep breath and study my fingernails. I know that Tess works on commission, so she must really be concerned if she's urging me not to take a job with such a high salary. I can stay at the Akermans' for a little bit longer, until the sale on their house goes through. But honestly, while I'm concerned for the last maid's wellbeing, that concern does not extend to myself. Ever since my sister died, I can't muster up much worry over what happens to me.
I look back up at Tess. "When can I start?"
Chapter Two
I walk the last mile or so to the Redmond estate, dragging my overstuffed suitcase behind me. The Akermans' place, in the heart of Back Bay, was much more urban and easily accessible, so I never had to worry about not having a license. I suppose I'm lucky that the bus service extends as far into Norwich as it does. Plus, the weather is a bit warmer than usual for the middle of March, so I'm able to admire the scenery around me instead of pulling my hood around my face.
The wealthy Boston suburb of Norwich is a far cry from the town in central Massachusetts where I grew up, I think as I gaze around at the mammoth houses tucked behind tall, iron-wrought fences. I can practically hear my dad's thickly accented voice in my head, Oh, brotha, these rich people, Cora. As soon as they get they-ah hands on a little money, they gotta have mo-ah of it. I lost my accent during my first couple years at college in an effort to become more cosmopolitan, but I can switch back into it at will.