When Theron left, I sat on the bed that didn't squeak or sag and studied my new home. The guest suite was on the third floor, and it was bigger than my previous apartment. Also on this level was a spare bedroom and bathroom and a storeroom.
My en-suite bathroom had a huge tub and a window that overlooked the front garden. I lay on the bed and swished my hand over the luxurious sheets that must have had a high thread count.
I set up my laptop on the large desk, though the addition of the electrical tape made it feel out of place.
As I made my way down the stairs to the second floor, I studied the five doorways. Each child had their own bedroom and bathroom, and there was a playroom opposite their rooms. At the end of the hallway was Theron’s master bedroom.
An image of my new employer popped into my head, and I forced it out because I was here to work, study in my spare time, and hopefully save money. The tall guy with three kids was my employer, nothing more.
Theron introduced me to Rory, Fraser, and Skye as he set the food on the table. The kids said hello, but their attention was taken up by the steak Theron had made. It was so rare, I kinda expected it to bound off the plate and demand its own dinner.
Roast potatoes and salad accompanied the meat, though the kids favored the steak, and they demolished it in minutes. Their father prodded them to eat the salad, and Fraser said the tomatoes would taste better if they were singed. Everyone froze and glanced at me. I ate a tomato, saying I liked them both raw and cooked, and the children started talking again.
“Do you want more?” Fraser pointed at my plate with his fork after he’d finished eating.
“No, this is enough, thanks.”
“You eat slow.”
“Fraser.” Theron’s voice rose a tad as he glanced at his middle child.
“He does, Daddy.” He looked at my remaining steak and shrugged. Maybe he’d been hoping I wouldn’t finish and he could have it.
By Sunday evening, I’d learned things about the Gibson household.
The kids were not what I expected. Rory was mature beyond his years, maybe thinking he had to set a good example for his siblings to follow.
We’d been watching TV, and he paused the kids’ show. “She said shed-yool. That’s not right. It’s sked-yool.” He was pointing at the TV, and his brow furrowed.
“People from around the world pronounce words differently. Not everyone is the same.”
He studied me, and I wondered what was going on behind those dark eyes that resembled his father’s.
“Okay. I get that.”
Fraser followed me from room to room, asked hundreds of questions a day, and had a habit of taking my hand and leading me to something interesting. Like his father, his hands were way hotter than mine.
The heat in the house took some getting used to, and I’d decided to buy more 100% cotton shirts come payday. But I’d taken to having three showers a day and using a lot of deodorant. Fraser informed me he’d tell me if I stank after he caught me sniffing under my arm.
“Your hands are cold. Why?” he asked as he dragged me into the garden to show me his garden bed.
“I don’t know.”
I could have asked why his were so hot, but he was six. It could be a medical condition, and I didn’t want to embarrass him.
Skye didn’t say much in the first few days. Maybe she was biding her time and she’d put marbles up my nose during the night.
On my third day, when I was making the kids’ snacks, she padded into the kitchen.
“Ledger, you smell nice.”
“Thank you.”
“Daddy thinks so too.”
I couldn’t move. What was that about? Did Theron talk to the kids about my smell? She didn’t elaborate, but as I’d already passed the sniff test with Fraser, maybe this was the family’s way of saying, “Keep up the good work.”
While I'd accepted the temperature in the house, there were other oddities. The fridge was stocked with enough raw meat to feed a family of twenty, including steaks, roasts, whole chickens, and venison. The vegetable drawer contained vegetables, and there was plenty of fruit on the table, but the kids always reached for the meat first.
