“Arabella, you need to be more careful with your things. We can’t be accusing the staff like this,” Mrs. Grimaldi said flatly. She fanned herself with the magazine as though she had been the one sweating bullets. “Magnolia, please continue with your day.”
No apology.
No admission of being in the wrong.
Just a simple,‘keep cleaning my shit’and a dip of her chin.
“As if it never happened,” I assured the great lady. I hated her. She was easily manipulated and didn’t care about her employees. But why should she? She’d never worked a day in her life. If the easy thing was to accuse us of theft without a thorough investigation, then that was the path she would always choose.
I retreated before I did anything stupid—like wink at the housekeeper. I knew what she was up to, and now she’d made things personal.
Back in the kitchen, I caught Franky and Cathy, heads bent together, whispering rapidly. They turned as one and the shock turned to relief as they looked at me.
“You know?” I guessed.
“Yeah, but it looks like Arabella was fast enough!” Cathy said, rushing forward to give me a hug.
I wrapped my arms awkwardly around her back, feeling a little odd at her enthusiasm. We worked together, but apparently, the other housemaid thought that made us friends.
Maybe we should be.
It wasn’t like I was running away.
I hugged her tighter, patting her spine as the story tumbled out of the maid.
“Arabella saw Sanderson go into her room after breakfast. She followed her, and she spent quite a bit of time in her office before going to have her morning check-in with the signora. That was when Arabella went upstairs and noticed the necklace was missing, and she put two and two together.”
“It took us until now to break into the housekeeper’s office,” Franky added, spinning a screwdriver between his fingers. “The bitch has it out for you.”
The housekeeper would have gone to check my locker, stopping by her office to grab the necklace and pretend to have found it in my things.
That…bitch.
“I’ll get her,” I promised.
Cathy pulled back with a gasp. I realized too late it might not have been the best thing to say out loud. But the smile on her face pushed away the moment of panic.
“If you need any help, I’d better be your first call,” she whispered, squeezing my arms.
I squeezed her back. “Thanks.”
“Seriously, I’m your girl!” Cathy insisted. “I’m down for drinks, shopping, murder, or even a pedicure!”
With a laugh, I returned to the pasta making. It was more fun now as we plotted how we were going to take out the wicked old housekeeper. It was hard to say whose suggestions were more violent—the cook’s or the maid’s. Normal people didn’t do this at their work. Sure, they might talk about a manager’s demise, but bless our hearts, this was the mob and we were the little psychos who found our place here.
Chapter 43 – Rae
Ihad never owned anything that shimmered the way that dress did. Hell, I was certain that I wasn’t a dress-up kind of girl. Skirts weren’t made for running. Working under a car would tear a gown, not to mention the grease and muck.
But this dress wasmadefor me.
A lotus flower danged from my belly button, on full display. Another dangled from my right ear. They complimented the motif inked on my left shoulder. I felt feminine. The light from the lamp by the long mirror caught the material and made the reflection dance. I smoothed my hands down the skirt again, though there was not a wrinkle to be found. The fabric was soft and expensive beneath my palms.
Tonight, I looked like someone else.
Laughter caught in my throat. I looked like the new me.
I leaned closer to the mirror, tilting my chin this way and that. The woman staring back at me belonged in a ballroom. My hair was pinned up higher than I had ever worn it, curled carefully with more patience than I usually possessed. A few loose tendrils framed my face, softening it. I touched one, half expecting it to spring out of place, but it held.
