The Housekeeper's Daughter

His only response was the lift of his chin before two dark-haired future heartbreakers barreled around the end of the tall hedge. He swooped the smaller one onto his back with the ease of a man completely comfortable with children and their exuberance. A boy of about seven received a hair ruffling that had him giggling before he took off, backward, chattering to the man who could easily have passed for their dad.

Addie turned to her task once more, trying to remember which valves she’d shut off, which she hadn’t. She too rarely encountered members of the extended Kendrick family to know whom the younger ones belonged to. She wasn’t like certain members of the staff who followed every word written about every Kendrick, either. The only one she’d ever been interested in enough to read about was Gabe. And she couldn’t begin to imagine why he would care where she would be later—unless he was still concerned about having some duty to her dad.

Maybe you need an older brother, he’d said.

She’d never had a brother, but she supposed that, in many ways, she already thought of him as one.

She hadn’t always, though, she thought, opening the timer box to finish what she’d started to do ten minutes ago. When she was nine years old, and he fifteen, she’d thought of him as the smartest boy in the world. Then she’d turned ten and she had thought of him more as her knight in shining armor.

Timer buttons clicked as she turned off section after section. She could still remember the day he’d made that transition in her mind, how wet and miserable the weather had turned. And how frightened she’d been of the older kids who’d tried to take her lunch money from her at the bus stop. She could remember Gabe, too. How big and brave and commanding he’d seemed even then.

He had been enrolled in Briarwood at the time, an exclusive prep school miles in the opposite direction of the public school she’d attended. He hadn’t let the fact that he’d gone so far out of his way, or that he would be seriously late, stop him from helping her, though. He’d seen what was going on, rescued her with the cool, steel-eyed glare that still had lesser males backing away and driven her to school himself. He’d pulled right up in front of Thomas Jefferson Elementary in the shiny new Jag his parents had given him for his sixteenth birthday and let her out as if he were her own private chauffeur.

She’d been in serious puppy love with him at ten, and had a wild crush on him as a teenager. As a young woman, she’d been in awe of him and all he was accomplishing, and terribly grateful for his support when her father had died.

It had been Gabe who had helped her through the deep sadness she’d felt at the loss of her dad, because Gabe had loved and respected him, too. And it had been Gabe who had prevented even more upheaval when it had appeared that she and her mom would have to move from the groundskeeper’s cottage.

The cottage had been her parents’ home ever since they’d lost their farm in Kentucky some twenty years before and gone to work for the Kendricks. The tidy little house just inside the woods was a benefit provided to the groundskeeper as part of his salary. It was their home when Addie had been born. But since her father no longer held that position, she and her mom weren’t entitled to stay there.

Mrs. Kendrick had been terribly kind. She had waited nearly two weeks after the funeral before she’d asked Addie’s mom to move up to the servants’ quarters in the main house so she could hire another man. Mrs. Kendrick had assumed that at nineteen, Addie would be on her own, that she would either go back to school or get a job in town.

Everything had happened so quickly that Addie hadn’t had time to consider her own plans. Her only concern had been for her mom. The thought of leaving the cottage and the memories her mom had shared there with her dad had all but devastated the grieving woman.

Addie had never known her mom to be anything less than stoic. She’d also had no idea what to do to help her until Gabe had suggested that she take over her father’s job herself.

She would never have thought of approaching Mrs. Kendrick on her own. Aside from being totally intimidated by the famous woman and not at all accustomed to speaking up for herself, she hadn’t felt qualified to take over such a responsible position. But Gabe had insisted there was no one better qualified, and reminded her of how she had helped her father with his chores from the time she’d been old enough to dig in the dirt. There wasn’t a tree, flower or stretch of lawn on the property that she couldn’t propagate, name or mow. Because her father’s ailing heart had slowed him down so much, she had already dropped out of college to help him so he wouldn’t work so hard. Or lose his job. In his final weeks she’d been handling his job alone as it was.

A young woman definitely hadn’t been Mrs. Kendrick’s idea of a proper groundskeeper. But she hadn’t wanted to take Rose from her home, either, so she had given Addie a six-month trial.

That had been five years ago. As grateful as Addie had been to the woman then, she’d been even more grateful to her son.

The problem was that now she wasn’t sure what she felt toward Gabe beyond something too complicated to question.

Being her practical, pragmatic self, she didn’t question it. She simply accepted that she had always cared for him, always would and headed off to make sure the florists didn’t damage her topiaries with their ribbons and tiny white lights before she had to join her mother in the main house. All the rooms would need straightening while the houseguests were at the wedding.

Addie didn’t usually pull housekeeping duty. On the few occasions she had, she’d truly hated it, which meant she definitely wasn’t looking forward to it now. Knowing she would be in the main house that evening only added to the disquiet she couldn’t quite seem to shake.

That odd unease accompanied her on her way to the house a little after six o’clock that evening. The ceremony had begun, and with everyone’s attention on the couple exchanging vows by the reflecting pond, no one noticed her slip from the opening in the trees a city block away and hurry across the cobblestone drive between the main house and the garage.

The side door, or the servants’ entrance as it was known by the family, led to a utility room and on into the kitchen.

Addie didn’t mind being in those particular rooms. The kitchen was Olivia’s domain, and Addie had found the open space with its miles of glass-fronted cabinets, hanging pots and herbs growing on the windowsills to be as warm and inviting as the woman herself. She’d just never been comfortable in the mansion’s more vast and elegant spaces. Mostly, she suspected, because she knew she didn’t belong there.

As a child, she could use only the servants’ door when she needed her mother. And never was she allowed beyond the doors of the kitchen and servants’ areas themselves. She had been a teenager before she’d set foot in the main foyer, and then only because she’d helped her dad bring in and hang the fresh greens they’d made into holiday wreaths and garlands for the staircases and mantels.

As she headed inside now, she carried a bunch of brilliant red and gold asters she’d cut for the servants’ dining table. She didn’t come to the main house often, but when she did she always brought flowers for Olivia and the maids to enjoy.

The scent of something buttery and delicious drew her through the utility room with its deep sink and cabinets for boots, servants’ coats and cleaning supplies. Grabbing an old china teapot for a vase from a cupboard, and scissors from a drawer, she smiled at Olivia working at the center island and stopped at the sink to arrange the flowers.

“Come on in here and do that,” Olivia called, rubbing her nose with the back of her forearm since her hands were covered with flour. “As long as there’s no bugs, you can use my sink.

“Oh, you brought my favorite,” she observed, seeing what Addie carried when she entered the high-ceilinged room. “I just love those bright colors.” As long as her arm was up, she nudged at the white headband holding back her tight salt-and-pepper curls. “So, did you see her?”

“Who?” Addie asked, bundling vase and flowers past the island.

“Tess, of course,” Olivia replied, as if she couldn’t imagine who else they’d be discussing. “The bride?”

“I didn’t see anyone.” Preoccupied, trying not to be, she set her flowers on the spotless counter and turned on the faucet. “I came up by the garages.”

“Well, she looks like a vision,” the loquacious cook pronounced. “I can’t begin to imagine what that gown cost, but I’m sure I could feed half the county on what they’re spending out there.” She lifted a hand toward a golden-brown casserole on the stove, flour drifting like snow. “We’re having tuna noodle as soon as we get finished up here. There’s plenty if you don’t feel like cooking for yourself tonight. I’m making pecan pies for lunch tomorrow, for those who aren’t leaving first thing. First batch will be out in ten minutes if you want a slice.”

Olivia’s pies were pure sin. Addie would have loved some, too, had her appetite not disappeared on her way into the house.

“Would you mind if I take it home with me?”

“Of course I don’t. I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want you to have it,” she replied with a tsk.

“I don’t suppose you peeked inside the tent to see how everything looked,” she continued, sprinkling ice water into her stainless steel bowl.

The ends of Addie’s short, blunt-cut hair swung as she shook her head.

“Didn’t think you would,” Olivia concluded, adding a pinch of salt. “You’re not nosy enough. Must get that from your mother. Not that she isn’t nosy,” she qualified. “She just doesn’t talk that much about what she knows. Anyway, I didn’t get down there, either. But I hear that the extra tent behind the big one is the caterer’s kitchen. Your mom said they have fifty people running around down there putting the final touches on beef Wellington and salmon Oscar. Can’t imagine not working in my own space.”

Her brow pleated as she gathered the ball of dough from the bowl and plopped it on the marble rolling board. “What are you doing up here yourself? I’d have thought that after all the hours you put in the past week, you’d be taking the evening off and spending it with your fiancé.”

Addie finished filling the vase and reached for a stem of crimson red asters. “Mom needs the help.”

There was so much to do with all the extra houseguests. More people created more laundry, more cleaning, more messes and Addie knew her mom was already exhausted. Even with Ina and the new girl working, Addie also knew her mom wouldn’t quit tonight until everything was as close to perfect as she could get it. All week her mother had left the cottage an hour earlier than her usual 6:00 a.m. and returned far later than her usual eight, after dessert had been served and the dishes all done.

Her mom had always prided herself on her ability to run the Kendrick household to Mrs. Kendrick’s rather exacting standards. But since Addie’s dad had died, her mom had become even more obsessed with doing her job exactly right.

Addie would have felt incredibly guilty knowing she was resting and her mom was not.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” the cook confirmed on her way back from the double-wide refrigerator, cold marble rolling pin in hand. “There’s not a one of us who couldn’t use an extra hand right now. Can’t believe the hours we’ve put in to get everything ready and stay on top of everyone’s needs. But that’s what we’re paid for,” she murmured philosophically.

“So,” she continued easily, putting her shoulders into rolling out a quick neat circle of dough, “what kind of wedding are you having?”

“Something small,” Addie’s mom pronounced, walking in from the laundry room with an armload of freshly laundered and folded towels. Addie swore her mother had radar for hearing. She could pick up a conversation three hundred yards away. “Or maybe they should just elope. I’d be willing to pay for that myself.”

Consideration joined the fatigue in Rose’s eyes as she glanced toward her daughter. Even after running herself ragged all day, her dark hair and black uniform looked as painfully neat as always. “You know, Addie, if you did that,” she said, setting her stack on the counter, “you and Scott could get married whenever you want. You wouldn’t have to spend all that time planning and reserving and waiting for a dress to come in.”

“You’re not paying for my wedding, Mom.”

“Do you have a date in mind?” Olivia asked.

Addie hesitated.

“No,” Rose replied, speaking for her daughter as she pulled one of her ever-present lists from her pocket. “I keep telling her she needs to do that so we can reserve the church and get invitations ordered.”