Page 30 of The Stranger

“It’s because of you and your family that I⁠—”

“Oh, by the way, Madeline—who I thought was the mum, not the housekeeper—wasn’t here when I arrived. Apparently, she had a family emergency,” I add, hoping to change the subject. I’m all for gratitude but it feels icky when pointed my way.

“Talk about bad timing. Is everything okay?”

“I think her granddaughter broke her leg.”

“I suppose that explains your rough first day.”

“How’d you mean?”

“Mr. du Beaumont was probably stressed today.”

“I don’t have a baseline of his usual mood, so I couldn’t comment.” I keep my tone even.

“He’s super protective of the children.” She pauses. “Between you and me, I think something happened with the agency nanny, the one who was supposed to cover for me. It was all very weird. Like, she was there Thursday night, but when I woke up the next morning, she was no longer in the house. And no one was saying why.”

“She probably bailed.” I wouldn’t have blamed her.

“I don’t think so. She seemed happy to be there. But that’s why I had to stay the extra night. The boss was in such a temper.”

Maybe that’s why he looked so stern last night. I pull a face because I’m not supposed to be thinking about any of that. “So what I’m hearing is you sent me into the lion’s den.”

“He can be… exacting.”

I chuckle. “Is that the best you can come up with?”

“Was he so awful?” she asks warily.

“On a scale of mild to murderous, he was Genghis Khan after making his way barefoot across a mile of Legos.”

“I’m so sorry, Prim.” But she’s laughing. “Madeline’s absence must’ve pushed him over the edge.”

I’d like to push him over the edge. Of a cliff.

“It’s all good,” I answer merrily. “I’m sure your salary makes up for the shortfall in his personality.

“And the view isn’t bad.”

“If you like classical features, I suppose.”

“Classical features,” she singsongs back. “That’s like, a compliment and a half coming from you. Have you bumped your head?”

“What? I’m nice—I say nice things all the time!”

“You’re more than nice. You’re one in a million. But I don’t think I’ve ever heard you pay a man a compliment.”

“Not true. I distinctly remember telling you how impressed I was by the Glaswegian houseman who managed to get a cannula in that eighty-year-old with delirium.”

“What did he look like?”

“Wrinkly, but not too bad for someone entering his ninth decade.”

“The houseman!”

“Oh. I dunno. Ginger. I think he had a beard?”

“That’s what I meant earlier—outside of the guys you’ve dated, you barely even look at men, let alone drool over them.”