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Santiago looked at the three of them coldly.
“You are all fired.”
They stared at him in shock, their mouths agape.
“Pack up your things,” Santiago continued grimly. “I want you out of here in ten minutes.”
“But—my food for the party—” Mrs. Green stammered.
“What did we do?” Anna gasped.
“You told him to fire us.” The butler looked at Belle with venom in his eyes. “You just had to tattle, didn’t you?”
“I never meant for this to happen...” Belle looked at Santiago. She put an urgent hand on his shoulder. “Please. You don’t need to—”
But he moved his shoulder away. His fury was past listening as he stared at the three employees who’d dared to be rude to Belle. “This party is no longer your concern, and you now only have nine minutes left.”
The butler drew himself up contemptuously. “I’ll go. It would destroy my professional reputation to work for your wife, anyway. She doesn’t belong here!”
“You think your reputation would be destroyed?” Santiago said coldly. “See what happens if you ever speak rudely about Belle again to anyone.”
“Santiago,” Belle said, tugging on his sleeve desperately. “I don’t want anyone to lose their jobs. I just thought...”
“I should have known you’d rat us out, after you heard us talking that first day,” Jones snarled.
The plump cook whirled to Belle with a gasp. “You heard us?”
But Belle was staring at the butler, and so was Santiago. So was the maid.
Jones’s accent had slipped.
Suddenly Santiago knew why the butler had hated Belle on sight. She wasn’t the only one who felt out of place.
“You’re not even British,” Santiago said accusingly.
“Nope.” Jones yanked off the apron that had been over his suit and tie. “Born in New Jersey. I’m done with this butler stuff. No amount of money is worth this.” He looked at Belle. “You might be stuck here till he dumps you. But I’m not. Forget this. I’m going to go start a band.”
Throwing away his apron, he left.
Santiago looked at the two women. “Any last words?”
The young maid, Anna, turned to Belle, her cheeks red. “I’m sorry, Miss Langtry. I sneered at you about pork rinds because, well, I like them myself. But I eat them in secret. I didn’t want Mr. Jones to know... “
The cook stepped forward, abashed. “And I taunted you about the stripper pole, because, well—” the plump middle-aged woman’s cheeks reddened “—I was a stripper myself for a few months when I was young. It’s not something I’m proud of, but my baby’s father had abandoned us. I was desperate...” Turning to Santiago, she pulled off her cap. “That bit of employment wasn’t listed on my résumé. I understand if you don’t want me cooking for you no more. Especially after what I said. I’ll go.”
“Please don’t fire me,” Anna begged. “I need this job. I’m working my way through law school and the hours are hard to find. The wages, too.”
“It’s not your choice.” Santiago looked at Belle. “It’s my fiancée’s.”
Belle glanced at the two women. The younger of them was looking at her with pleading eyes, as the older stared woodenly at the floor with slumped shoulders.
“Please stay.” Her voice trembled slightly. “If you’re not too embarrassed to work for me...”
“Oh, no!” Anna exclaimed fervently. “How could I be embarrassed of you? I’m only ashamed of myself.”
“Me, too,” the cook said softly. Looking up, her soft blue eyes filled with tears. “Thank you.”
Belle gave them a wobbly smile. “I know what it feels like to be pregnant and alone. No one would judge you badly for doing whatever it took to take care of your baby.” Glancing at Santiago out of the corner of her eye, she added, “In fact, you both get a raise.”
