Like Ali read the defeat on my face, she offered me a sympathetic smile. “Really, don’t take it to heart. Mrs. Hawthorne can be far more forgiving than she lets on.”
I chuckled, grabbing us another couple of water bottles from the fridge. “I find that hard to believe.”
“No, really.” She took the bottle I offered her and leaned against the island. “When I started, I almost didn’t last the month.”
I gulped down half the bottle, sweating from all sorts of uncomfortable places. “What happened?”
Ali cringed with embarrassment. “It was Independence Day weekend and I’d driven six hours in holiday traffic to open the beach house in the Hamptons for their arrival. Stocked the kitchen, made the beds. Everything they’d require. Then I waited at the airport for their plane to land, until I got an angry phone call demanding to know why I was late.”
I stared at her, puzzled and waiting for the punchline.
“They had touched down in Martha’s Vineyard an hour ago!”
“No!” I gasped.
“Trust me, I got an earful. I thought she’d fire me on the spot.”
“But you’re still here.”
She nodded, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. “She simply told me to get on a flight to the island and we proceeded on. There were a few difficult days, but ultimately, Mrs. Hawthorne gave me the opportunity to prove myself.”
“Teachable moment, huh?”
“Exactly.” Ali straightened and tucked the loose ends of her shirt into her waistband. “In good news, the family will be out again tomorrow. You’ll have the day off.”
Then she left me to sulk.
I was utterly defeated as I cleaned the kitchen and washed the dishes. Part of me expected to get a termination letter under my door the next morning. Be out by noon. But the order to pack up my stuff never came.
As I lay in bed well after ten the next morning, without even showering or brushing my teeth yet, full-on wallowing, there was a sudden knock at my door. I thought about ignoring it. Pretending I wasn’t home. But they kept knocking.
“Yeah, okay,” I called. “I’m coming.”
I glanced out the front window and saw Charles standing on the other side.
Holy shit.
I hid behind the door. Hair greasy. Breath atrocious. In my very least attractive pajamas.
“What do you want?” I shouted through the door.
He was supposed to be gone all day. What the hell was he doing outside my cottage?
“Aren’t you going to open the door?” he answered.
“No.”
“No?”
“No!”
Again, he knocked. Louder. “Elle, come on. Open up.”
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to invite you on a little excursion,” he said. “Come on, at least open the door.”
Ugh, this was stupid. Yelling at each other through the door. I felt like an idiot.
