She arches a blonde brow. “Even with you being half the age and weight of your colleagues?”
I nod, preferring to lie without words. I’m strong, despite my small frame. My parents raised me right.
The knot in my stomach tightens when Mrs. Novak sighs. She only ever sighs when she’s disappointed, which is often these days. “I’m sorry, Kristina. I don’t see you being a suitable fit for our staff. Perhaps in a few years—”
“I won’t be here in a few years. I’ll be at college.”
She smiles like I’m joking. It agitates me more than I’ll ever express. “We’ll see.”
After dismissing me from the room with a wave of her hand, she shifts her focus to the next applicant on her long list of many.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” I mouth to my mother during my silent trek across the ballroom-size room.
The lowering of her chin reveals she spotted my comment, but she can’t reply, or she’ll risk being fired. Even suggesting for a chicken gravy to be served with turkey can get you fired by Mrs. Novak. She hates being told what to do.
Halfway across the manicured gardens separating the servants’ quarters from the main residence, I’m startled to within an inch of my life. “No luck?” Achim, Mr. and Mrs. Novak’s eldest son, smiles a blistering grin when I clutch my chest to ensure my heart remains put. This is the first time I’ve seen him in over a year. He’s attending his senior year at a boarding school far, far away from here. “It was probably the braid. It makes you look very childish.”
Boarding school was supposed to teach him some manners.
It clearly didn’t work.
After rolling my eyes, I continue down the path I was walking before I was rudely interrupted. My strides slacken three steps later when Achim shouts, “I can help you, you know.”
Hearing his unvoiced words the loudest, I say, “With what, exactly?”
He waits for me to pivot around and face him before he answers, “You want to work for my family, don’t you?” When I nod, the arrogance on his face doubles. “I can help you with that…ifyou’re willing to do something worthwhile to be awarded my help.”
I’ve lived a very sheltered life, but even someone as naïve as me couldn’t miss the innuendo in his tone. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m willing to wait another two years.”
My steps freeze for the second time when Achim mutters, “That’ll be another four years stuck here, saving to go to school. Come on, Kristina. Don’t act so regal. Your head will never wear the crown you’re seeking. You’ll always be the help, so why not accept it when it’s being offered?”
I barely roll my eyes for a second, however, it’s long enough for Achim to creep up on me unaware. He fists my braid so fiercely, I’m certain it’ll take longer than a year to cover the bald patch of his yank. “You either accept my help willingly, Help, or I’ll force you to accept it.”
I’m terrified for my life, equally scared and horrified. I don’t budge an inch, not even when Achim commences dragging me toward the pottery barn at the side of the garden. As vomit creeps up my throat, panic sets in. My family has served the Novaks for years, but what Achim is asking for was never part of the agreement. My parents work hard for their money, and even with their stature not being close to the Novaks’, they’re good, honest people who don’t deserve to have their only child treated this way.
Just before Achim pulls me into the dark, scary void, a voice I’ll never forget breaks through the horror setting my panic alight. It’s the voice of my mother, demanding for me to come back to the main house immediately because she has some good news for me.
“If I don’t go, she’ll come looking for me,” I speak through the lump in my throat, praying Achim is as scared by my mother as the women who work with her. “Please, Achim.”
His fingers are only half weaved out of my hair when I push off my feet with a grunt, running in the direction opposite to the one I was walking. I sprint so fast, the tears streaming down my face blow off in the wind of my speed.
When I crash into the chest of my mother a few strides later, my words come out in such a flurry, I barely make any sense.
“Kristina, slow down. I can’t understand you.”
As my mother lifts my chin so she can peer into my eyes, I catch sight of the people surrounding us. Mrs. Novak isn’t the only one eyeing me with a steely glare, so is her son. He’s holding the ribbon once twisted around my braid to his nose, smiling when the scent of my shampoo streams through his flaring nostrils, not the least bit concerned I’m about to rat him out.
I discover why when my mother mouths, “Please be careful about what you say.Mrs. Novak is quite temperamental today.”
She’ll put measures in place to protect me when I tell her what Achim did, but I can’t commence that here. She needs her job. Both my parents do. This isn’t a town with money to burn. If you don’t work for the Novaks, you don’t work for anyone.
After licking my dry lips, I mutter, “I lost my ribbon. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” My mother cups my jaw in a motherly way before saying, “I’ll pick you up another one. Your father and I are about to head to town for supplies.”
“Can I come with you?” She shakes her head for not even a second when I switch my question to a beg. “Please.”
“I’d love for you to come, sweetheart, but Mrs. Novak has agreed to put you on a trial basis commencing immediately. If you can prove yourself within a week, she’ll place you on permanently.” Mistaking my gulp as one of excitement, she smiles a grin so bright, the sun appears nonexistent. “You can tell me everything that happened the instant your shift is over, okay?”
