Читать книгу Almost A Wife - Eva Rutland - Страница 11

ON HER knees, Lisa mopped her way out of the second upstairs bathroom. She stood in the hall, rubbed an aching shoulder and looked back at the gleaming tiles covering the long counter, the clear mirror above, the spotless floor beneath. Stain-free. Sweet smelling. Perfect. Bleach along with that fragrant tile cleaner worked miracles.

And havoc on me, she thought, glancing at her red hands and broken nails. Rubber gloves slowed her down, and time was a precious commodity. Her chopped off hair was also a time-saver. Just wash and blow!

Money saver, too. No weekly trips to the beauty shop. Chic and smooth not required in this business, she thought as she picked up her pail.

Still, skimping on beauty treatments hardly made a dent in the monthly bills. I’m cleaning houses like crazy and getting further and further in debt. Harder work, less pay.

Talk about hard labor! Talk about time! On her first job, it had taken the whole day for her to do one house. But the real kicker had come when the lady of the house said she would not need her again.

She was still trying to recover from the shock when Joline showed up that evening with more referrals. No downsizing in the housecleaning industry. But qualifications were stiff, she thought, rubbing her aching muscles.

“I don’t know if I’d better take those on,” she said, burning with shame. “Mrs. Smith fired me,”

“She can’t fire you,” Joline said.

“Call it what you like. She made it clear that my services were no longer required.”

“By her! That don’t mean they ain’t required by somebody else. Look, I got three places here. They want somebody bad.”

Lisa wasn’t listening. She was reliving the frustrating day. “I wouldn’t want me back, either. I couldn’t get the stains out of the bathtub and the windows still looked grimy.”

“You gotta use bleach on stains. And—” Joline stopped, stared at Lisa. “Windows? You ain’t ’sposed to do no windows.”

“She said just the downstairs one, and—”

“She don’t say! You say. What you gonna do and what you ain’t.

“But if she’s hiring me…”

“She ain’t. You applying for the job.”

“Oh. That’s…different?”

Joline shook her head. “I can see you don’t know nothing ’bout running no business.”

“Well…” Not the time to mention her business degree.

“But don’t worry. I’m gonna tell you how. You been real good to me, Lisa. You always gave me clothes for my daughter, and you paid me extra that time my boy got sick. Now you in a bind, and I’m gonna help you out.”

Lisa was touched. “You’ve been good to me, too. I really appreciate the referrals, but maybe I’m in over my head in this area.” If cleaning houses was a business, she was clearly unprepared. Picking up her clothes before the cleaning lady came wasn’t much experience.

“Shucks! Nothing to it. All you have to do is get straight what you gonna do ’fore you start.”

“You mean make a contract?” Lisa chuckled. When the mind-makes a contract the body can’t fill… “You still have to do the job. I know that much.”

“Oh, you can do it. You listen to me, and you listen good. No, you better write it down. Get a paper and pencil while I pour us some more coffee.”

Writing is more in my line, Lisa thought as she picked up a pen. But she could hardly keep up as Joline rattled off a mind boggling list of do’s and don’ts. “Don’t do nothing by the hour. Charge by the job, and do check size of the house and how the folks live in it ’fore you set the price. Some folks live like pigs. Do list equipment and supplies needed. Don’t supply none of these yourself. That way you ain’t loaded down and you ain’t bringing nothing in with you and you ain’t taking nothing out. Some folks are funny ’bout what you taking out.”

This is a business, and an extremely complicated one, Lisa thought as Joline listed supplies needed for special problems as well as a definite agenda. “Always do one floor at a time. That way you don’t get plumb wore out, traipsing up and down all them stairs a million times. Hey, you ain’t wore out yet, are you? We just talking about it.”

“I know.” But just thinking of the hard physical labor to which she was unaccustomed. “Today was…difficult,” she said.”

“Forget today. Nothing to it if you do it right. Tell you what…I’ll go with you a couple of times and show you how to move along. Shucks! If you do houses in the same area on the same day of the week, you don’t spend no time fighting traffic, and you can do two, maybe three houses a day.”

So she was doing it! Two houses a day was keeping her employed, but it wasn’t keeping up with expenses.

If she moved from her costly apartment…

Shucks, this was only temporary. When she got a real job…

But two short months seemed like ten years, and no sign of a real job yet.

She was worried.

Tray Kingsley was noted for his business sense. With keen perception, he took instant command of any situation, knowing instinctively who should do what. As easy as breathing, to raise his hand, point a finger…direct.

But when he entered the lobby of his San Francisco hotel with the girl, the boy and the teddy bear, he was at a complete loss. He hadn’t a clue what was to be done nor who could do it.

“Mr. Kingsley, you’re back! And with company. How nice!” The desk clerk’s affability did not quite mask her surprise and curiosity. She leaned across the desk and smiled at Sunny. “Such a pretty little girl! What’s your name?”

Sunny didn’t answer. In total silence, she hugged her bear, held on to Tray’s hand, her eyes seeming to grow bigger as she stared at the woman.

Tray couldn’t speak, either, so unnerved was he by what he read in Sunny’s eyes. More clearly than if she had spoken aloud, the eyes revealed what she was feeling. The absence of all that was familiar and dear. The strangeness of the new and unfamiliar…big…crowded. The loneliness…the terror.

He saw what she saw, felt what she felt. Too much weight for that staunch little shoulder. He wished—

“We are happy to have you and your little brother with us.” The clerk smiled at Sunny, then turned to him. “We made the change you requested, Mr. Kingsley. Your things has been moved to the two-bedroom suite, 584.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” he said, about to release the girl’s hand to take the key. But the tiny hand closed around his big finger and held on. He shifted the boy slightly, and accepted the key with his left hand. “Thank you,” he said. “Now about the children. I spoke with a Mr. Dancy about arrangements for baby-sitting.”

“Yes. I am sorry that our hotel program is limited to much older children. However, we do have a recommendation for you. Many of our patrons have used Nanny, Inc. from time to time, and found them reliable.” She passed a card and a folder to him which he also took in the hand that held the boy. “If there is any other way we can be of service, please let us know.”

“Thank you,” he said again. He followed the bellboy, his mind in a whirl. All hell was breaking loose at the office, which was normal and expected during this period of drastic change. He’d kept in touch by fax or phone almost every hour of the five days he’d been away, but it wasn’t the same as being there. Especially when he was simultaneously trying to grapple with this unexpected turn of events in his personal life.

Well, too late to get to the office this afternoon. Should he try to meet with Sam tonight? He wanted to have everything in hand for the board meeting in New York on Wednesday.

It was essential that he be at the office in the morning. On a plane Tuesday, headed for New York. He had to see that the children were taken care of. He’d phone that Nanny place immediately.

In the elevator the bell boy tried to talk to Peter, but the boy only buried his face in Tray’s chest, his arms a noose around his neck. The girl’s hand stuck like glue. The message louder than words. You are all we have to hold onto.

He felt burdened. Responsible. Awkward.

“All right! We’re here,” he said, a bantering glad to be home ring in his voice. “Sunny, reach into my back pocket and see if you can find my wallet. That’s a good girl! Thank you. Now, you hold on to Peter while I take care of this gentleman,” he said, standing the boy beside her.

The door closed behind the bellboy, and Tray took a look at the stark and cold perfection of the hotel suite. He should have ordered flowers, fruit. No. Toys, books, or…something.

Her cry startled him. “I don’t…don’t like it here!” The broken sentences tumbled out between a spasm of angry, helpless sobs. “I want…want…to go…I want to go…go home!”

She was still holding onto her brother and her bear, but she was no longer the staunch protector. Just a tiny lost and lonely child. The boy, following her lead, added his cries to hers, and the tumult filled the room, tearing him apart.

He bent to his knees, gathered them in his arms and held them close. Their tears wet his face as their bodies heaved against him in hot convulsive sobs that broke his heart.

“That’s right. Let it all out,” he whispered. It was too much. No way could they hold it in.

What to do!

“I miss your Mommy, too,” he said, guided by pure instinct. “I knew her when she was a little girl just like you.” Not altogether true. Kathy had been much older than Sunny when she first came to play in his yard.

It worked. Sunny choked back a sob and her eyes widened with interest. “You did? You saw Mommy when she was little like me?””

He nodded, and her questions were eager and rapid. “Did she look like me…have a bear like mine? Could she read?”

He sat on the floor, settling them against him, as he talked about Kathy with colorful, exaggerated details that soon had them giggling. After that, it was easier. They consumed some of the peanut butter sandwiches and hot chocolate he’d ordered, splashed in the tub for a short while, helped him find pajamas and books in their luggage. The suite was a mess, but he finally settled them together in one bed and read to them as instructed. “That’s what Mommy does.”

It was after ten when he picked up the phone in his own room. Thank God Nanny, Incorporated was a round-the-clock, twenty-four-hour operation.

“I’m a little worried about my grandfather,” Lisa told Joline. “He’s acting…well, not like himself.”

“Oh? How?”

“Grandma said he got into an altercation with a man at lunch one day. Over passing the salt of all things,” Lisa said, trying to picture her affable, always agreeable grandfather in an altercation with anybody about anything. “And Grandma says he gets very confused at the bridge table.”

“That’s too bad. Has he seen a doctor?”

“Yes. Grandma finally got him to go, and she talked to the doctor later.”

“And?”

“He’s not sure. Maybe just aging he says. Lots of people get irritable when they get older it seems. And forgetful. But Grandpa has always been so mild-mannered. I’m worried.”

“Guess so. Do you think he could be getting that…what is it so many old people are getting now? Alls…something. Mrs. Salter, a lady I work for, says her father got so he didn’t even know her.”

“Oh, Joline, don’t mention that for goodness’ sake. I couldn’t stand that.”

“Couldn’t pay for it neither I reckon. Them places is awful expensive, Mrs. Salter says.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t have to worry about that. My grandparents bought into that senior complex which guarantees continuing life care without raising the cost. That’s why gramps insisted it was the best place. He said he didn’t want me to have that burden in case either of them became ill.”

“That’s the best way. Be prepared.”

“Yes. Grandpa was like that. Extravagant, especially where I was concerned. But really smart.” She chuckled. “So why am I worried about something like Alzheimer’s? Whatever happens, Gramps’s not likely to lose that sharp mind of his.”

The phone rang, and she picked it up.

“Hello, Lisa,” came the voice of Mrs. Dunn, whose house she cleaned every Thursday. “I’m calling for a neighbor, a family that just moved in next door. They are desperately in need of a cleaning person, possibly twice a week. Interested?”

“I certainly am.” Twice a week. She needed as many jobs as she could get. It was getting harder and harder to make the money for her grandparents and take care of herself too. If she didn’t get a decent job soon—

“Good. It’s the house on the right, 168 Pine Grove. This is the phone number…The name is Kingsley.”

Lisa wrote down the number and slowly replaced the phone, wondering…Kingsley. Why did that name ring a bell?