1
Two Years Ago
Charlie
I gesturedto let my new housekeeper lead the way out of the dining room. Notjustout of a sense of chivalry, but because I didn’t trust her behind my back.
“The kitchen is right through here,” I explained.
The older woman’s sensible trainers hardly made a sound on the worn hall carpeting.The better for sneaking around…
Agata had been so quiet since she arrived. Normally, I relished silence, but this felt like a form of torture. Did she have misgivings about my scandalous past? Or was she simply wondering how I’d managed this long alone?
Based on how she eyed the stack of dishes near the sink, I suspected the latter.
It had been years since I had people working for me, and as it turned out, I still found the whole experience of managing people when I couldn’t manage myself incredibly uncomfortable, if not hypocritical. If Emma hadn’t insisted that I hire someone to keep the ancient estate from crumbling, I might have just gone on alone forever. After all, the whole point of disappearing from a life of celebrity and into the English countryside was to avoid uncomfortable interactions at all costs.
“No dishwasher?” She sniffed, looking down her nose even though she barely reached my chest.
Did she scare me? Absolutely. I didn’t like it, but dammit, I respected it.
An inoffensive light lemon smell clung to her gray frock. Her blond hair was tight in a low bun, and she had a tiny, pinched mouth.
“I plan on doing some renovations and additions over time. But for now, it’s a bit rustic,” I said.
I glanced away when she scrutinized me. The thing with sobriety was, as fast as everything goes to shite, it takes a hell of a lot longer to work back up to any sense of normalcy. I had intended on updating the Vicarage ages ago, but some days simply existing was chore enough.
She nodded; hands clasped in front of her. “Okay,” she settled on.
The small reassurance unclenched my jaw.
“The Vicarage is a bit of a drive from the nearest town. But you can have groceries delivered. I’m assuming the agency told you about …” I scratched the back of my neck.
“No booze,” she said in her soft Polish accent.
“Right. Except in your cottage, of course. I just ask not in the main house.”
She nodded firmly. “I don’t drink. It’s no problem.”
Straight to the point and no nonsense, Agata was beginning to grow on me. Emma likely had these traits in mind when she set up this appointment with the agency’s recommendation.
“I guess that’s everything. Do you have any questions?” I asked.
She looked me up and down. “What you want for lunch?”
“You just got here. You don’t have to—”
A hand snaked out and pinched my abdomen sharply. “Too skinny.”
I flinched. That’s something I’d never been accused of. “I just—”
“You don’t pick. You have sausage soup.” Her mouth hardly moved when she spoke, but the words felt as threatening as a yell.
Feeling more than a little frightened, I acquiesced. “Ah, that’s good. Thank you.”
She turned her back to me and got to moving in the small kitchen.
I looked around, feeling useless. I’d already brought her single worn suitcase to the small guest house. I knocked once on the counter. “Welp, I’ll let you get settled. It’s been nice meeting you. Welcome to the Vicarage, Agata.”
