“Regular work is regular work. I make sure she gets Wednesdays free.”
Sierra had been in the Château for going on seven years, one of the longest-running residents who showed no sign of wanting to move on. Her specialty was in humiliation kink, making herone of the most in-demand ladies even on aMonday,which was the only day off some clients had to spare for a place up in the mountains. The regular weekly client was known for being loud enough to drive half of the other residents outside while he was there.
“I need to be heading back soon,” Monica said when she had a moment. “I trust that you have everything in control here?”
Judith shrugged. “Nothing much happens here while you’re gone.”
“I won’t be here this weekend. If you don’t have plans on working a shift at Le Salon, I’d appreciate you camping out here to tend to any parties that spring up.”
“Of course. Last I checked, we’re booked solid this weekend. Should be as usual.”
Monica allowed herself to breathe for a minute.Everything is fine. Everything will work out. Everything…
“Look!Look!”
Nothing made her adrenaline spike more than hearing her daughter’s voice in a place it shouldn’t be. Yet here came Abigail, the spry seven-year-old girl who rushed out of Monica’s apartment with a tablet in her hand. Behind her sprinted her nanny, Matilda, who only had one job in the Château:keep Abigail in the apartment unless allowed out otherwise!
Judith blocked the hallway leading to the residents’ rooms while Monica hurried her daughter as far from the work as possible. Her adrenaline outpaced her mother’s instinct to listen to her daughter excitedly ramble about her school finally uploading the professional recording of the Christmas first-grade play. Their interpretation ofThe Night Before Christmashad been a hit with parents, but how could Monica think about that when her daughter was now old enough to help herself to wherever she wanted?
“What?” Abigail went straight to pouting as Monica hauled her back into their apartment and Matilda slowly followed, eyes downcast.Yes, she knows she fucked up.Matilda was usually right on top of Abigail. Had she been in the bathroom? Distracted by her phone? Like Monica, Matilda wasn’t as young as she used to be. The only reason she was still around was because Monica paid her handsomely enough with full benefits. When her daughter was born, she swore to find the perfect nanny andkeep herfor Abigail’s sake. Consistency was key to a child’s development, wasn’t it? “I wanted to show you!”
Monica kept her cool as she closed the door to their private room. Matilda went back to packing her and Abigail’s bags for their imminent return to Warren Manor in the city. “I know you did, sweetheart.” Monica hoisted her growing daughter up on the bed they shared.She’ll be bigger than me before she’s a teenager.Monica was petite, but everyone on Abigail’s father’s side was at least six feet tall. Currently, the youngest Warren was on track to join them.
As Abigail’s legs kicked forward and backward against the bed, she handed her mother the tablet. “You never let me out of here.”
“It’s not appropriate out there right now.”
“It never is!” Abigail pulled her legs up and sat crisscrossed on the bed. Her heavy beige sweater crumpled in her lap while her well-worn leggings showed how she was growing out of them already. “This place is so boring. It’s just me and Matilda in here while you work.”
“I know, honey, I’m sorry.” Monica bookmarked the video and turned off the screen. She tossed the tablet into her bag and helped Matilda finish packing. “We’re about to head home. Your daddy will be home tonight, too.”
“Yes!”
“It’s an extenuating circumstance, Abby. The older you get, the less I need to bring you with me up here.” It had been easierwhen Abigail was little and less inclined to wander out of the room. Matilda had always been there to watch her while Monica worked. More and more, Abigail didn’t come up to the Château, forobvious reasons,but that weekend had been a mess. Not only did she have a major party to oversee on Saturday night, but her husband Henry was out of town for a business meeting. His sister Eva often watched Abigail when they were both gone for a night, butshewas also busy that weekend.I didn’t have a choice.She could have gotten away with Matilda watching Abigail all weekend, but that wasn’t the promise Monica made to herself when her daughter was born.Until she’s old enough to be by herself for a night, there will always be at least one family member around.But it was getting harder, wasn’t it? Monica didn’t run an auto shop, a restaurant, or a quiet B&B retreat in the mountains.I’m a real-life smut peddler.She couldn’t have Abigail here anymore. Abigail didn’t even like being here.
She’d have to figure something out. Later.
Once they were ready, Matilda summoned one of the maids and helped her take down the luggage. Monica’s car was freshly washed and prepped for the return trip to the city. With Abigail’s hand in hers, she said goodbye to Judith and anyone else who was along her path.
It had started raining by the time they stepped outside. Up in the mountains in January? It was likely to snow or get icy at any moment. Monica wanted to be in civilization by evening, which was only a couple of hours away.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Her driver opened the back seat door and Monica motioned for Abigail to get in ahead of her.
Her daughter hung her head out of the car, blocking Monica from following her in. “Are we going to watch the video? I’ve been waiting!”
“Yes, of course!”
Such a scowl made Monica think of something her mother-in-law might say.“Are you going to let her freeze her face that way? How unbecoming!”Exactly the person Monica wanted to think about.
“Come on! The sooner we’re home, the sooner you’ll see Daddy.”
Puffing out her cheeks and blubbering like the petulant child she emulated, Abigail slinked into the car and allowed her mother to come in behind her. The driver closed the door behind them and headed toward the driver’s seat.
The drive down the mountain was Monica’s chance to clear her mind and make things right with her daughter. She motioned for Abigail to curl up beside her while they watched the recording in Monica’s lap. As the Abigail of one month ago pranced around the stage, playing the narrator’s mischievous daughter, Monica stroked the current Abigail’s silky hair that had been left loose that day.
When the video was over, Abigail was well on her way to taking a nap. Monica switched to a chapter book from a series that her daughter enjoyed. As she spoke of magical school lockers, alien teachers, and vampire janitors, Abigail’s head fell heavy against her mother’s shoulder and a small drop of drool landed on her sweater.
The car gently curved down the mountain. The rain neither turned to snow nor ice. Monica soon found herself tucking the tablet between her legs and likewise closing her eyes. With both her and Abigail drifting off to sleep, she managed to forget everything.
