Aggie smirked. “You could say he has a reputation. Or, well, he did. Been a while now, I suppose. People change.”
Mia scoffed. “Do they?”
Their exchange made me wary. It was fine that I didn’t know anything about this guy when he was just a one-night stand from a bar. Now, I worried I’d tangled myself in a larger web that would soon make me the target of small-town gossip, and threaten my already tenuous grip on my current employment.
“What sort of reputation?” I insisted, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Aggie’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Maybe you’ll find out firsthand. You will be in the thick of it up there.”
“Me?” I shook my head. “I’m not getting involved. I’ll be keeping my head down and my ears closed.”
Mia crossed her arms, leaning against the counter. “Charles Hawthorne, back in Maplewood Creek. Never thought I’d see the day.”
Chapter 9
Back at the chalet, I stocked the kitchen with the new provisions, then spent a few minutes planning my dinner menu. Though I had been able to score some veal shanks from the local butcher, I thought twice about serving my osso buco after mentioning it to Charles last night. It felt somehow like a confession. As if putting that meal out would alert the whole family to my sordid little secret. A completely irrational thought, I knew. Still, it gave me the ick.
Instead, I’d do a different version of it, with braised short ribs over polenta and an olive and herb gremolata. I’d pair that with a simple warm salad of local winter vegetables to start, then finish off the meal with my Earl Grey tiramisu. Which meant I had to get my short ribs braising now.
I set to work, giving the short ribs a quick, hard sear, then adding them to a Dutch oven with a dry red wine and vegetables, while I ducked back out to my cottage to take a shower and change for dinner service. It was the first chance I’d had to investigate my new digs for the next three months. Assuming Charles didn’t have me dismissed by his mother before then. Imagine his mortification at his blizzard bar-hookup sticking around like a bad rash for the whole ski season. How uncouth of me.
I might’ve saved him the trouble, only I needed this job more than I valued my pride. So, I decided the plan was to lay low. Make myself invisible, as he’d once said. Blend into the background and let him forget we’d ever met.
A wreath of holly with a red bow adorned the front door as I let myself inside the cottage and pushed my bags clear of the front door. I was impressed with the attention to detail for something that wasn’t part of the main house. It was a one-story, ranch-style building, with a small front porch that was artfully decorated. The entryway held a small half-moon table, with a tiny bowl on top for keys or change. A free-standing coat tree was just beside the door. Tossing my coat on it, I stepped out of my boots and wandered farther inside.
It was an open-concept space with every modern amenity I could have possibly needed. A pine garland decorated the mantel over the fireplace, where a stack of firewood was provided. There were cozy knit blankets artfully draped over the sofa and fuzzy pillows I couldn’t wait to fall into. The kitchen was stark white and not too big. It was the perfect size for this space, and just for me. Custom windows framed the view of the snowcapped Rockies on one side and the main house on the other. The colors in the bedroom were a cozy and inviting shade of blue, and I felt instantly at peace in the space, despite the pressure and tension waiting for me in pretty much every other area of The Viceroy.
After I was cleaned up and dressed, I took a minute to call Megan.
“You made it!” she exclaimed when she answered. “I was worried the fire department would be digging you out of the snow on the side of the highway.”
“For a minute there, I was too.”
“So, how is it? Gorgeous, I bet. I suppose you’ve met the family by now. How are they?”
Oh, yeah. We’d met.
“So far, so good,” I told her brightly.
Because Megan had done me a huge favor getting this job. I wasn’t about to complain and throw it back in her face. It was my own dumb fault for not getting the full picture, or even a surname, before I spent the night with the handsome stranger from the bar. I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
“Oh, I’m so glad. I know I warned you that Mrs. Hawthorne can be a little intimidating, but you’re more than up to the task.”
“No sweat,” I said. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you again. I’ll make you and Hannah proud.”
“You always do, Elle.”
That little reassurance from home put an immediate smile on my face. It was the extra boost I needed to remember that this wasn’t the end of the world. Most of the time there would be no need for me to interact heavily with the family. I could stick to the kitchen and let the waitstaff run the plates. And when I did need something, there was Ali and Mrs. Hawthorne. A whole hierarchy before I’d have any good reason to run into Charles again.
I was about to head out when there was a light knock at the door. I quickly buttoned my black chef’s coat and pulled my hair back into a ponytail before answering. Amelia stood on the doorstep in a thick, cream cable-knit sweater and matching leggings with a headband that held her short, bouncy blond curls away from her face.
“Hi,” I said, a little surprised and perhaps grateful it wasn’t her brother coming to hunt me down. “I was just changing for dinner. Is there something you need?”
“Oh, no, nothing urgent,” she hurried to say, smiling kindly. “I’m sorry to bother you, I just wanted to see whether next time you were in town, I could request a few things for the kitchen.”
“Of course.” I stepped back from the door to invite her in. “I’d be happy to pick up whatever you need.”
It honestly made my job easier when the client told me exactly what they wanted. The less guessing I did, the happier we’d all be.
