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When I feel that I’ve done my best, that the crumbling house can’t get any cleaner, I go back to the mansion to see what other work Mrs. Simmons has in store for me.
I wipe my dirty hands on my jeans and walk to the sink for a fresh drink of water. This place is so spotless that I hate to muck it up with my gardening mess.
Mrs. Simmons comes into the kitchen and interrupts my break. “Are you all done out there, Meg? Well, that was fast. It only took the morning.”
“Yes, Mrs. Simmons. The garden house is clean. It’s as clean as it can be.”
“That’s a good thing, dear, because I need you to go to the library next. All the wood in there needs to be polished. And there’s lots of organizing of books and things. I know you’ll be fine. Just ask if you need assistance. I imagine it’ll take you a couple days to finish. I hope you’re alright with that.”
No one can deny her warm demeanor, but she keeps a tight house. If I didn’t know how to be a maid before, I’m starting to learn now.
“Yes, Mrs. Simmons. That’ll be no problem. I’ll get started now.”
I take a few grateful sips of water and then go to my room to change into my maid’s outfit. It’s classic black and white, though not short enough.
I splash cool water on my face and can’t quite believe that my life of luxury, this beautiful room, comes with manual labor. My entire body aches from all the cleaning.
I stretch and pull on my uniform, ready for the next big job. And then it occurs to me...the library.
I’m going to be cooped up in the library for the next couple days. I will be alone and will go through documents and everything. This has got to be where the Belcourt will is stored.
It has to be in there somewhere.
Simon said his mother once saw it, so I know it exists. And now I have the perfect opportunity to snoop, and nobody will be the wiser.
I’m suddenly more than eager for my next cleaning assignment. I hurry through the corridor and tie my white, ruffled apron as I do so. If I don’t seize this opportunity and find what I’m looking for, I may wind up here longer than expected.
The library’s on the second floor. The room itself is two stories high.
I walk in and nobody’s there. There’s a spiral staircase that leads toward the upper level.
I have my duster, and I pretend to clean as I look around the place for any evidence of where secret documents might be.
I start with the desk—the obvious choice.
I take a seat and go through some books and unkempt paperwork. It must’ve been George Belcourt’s desk because there are pictures of his kids everywhere.
I take a moment to wipe down the frames of all the guys—the brothers I mistakenly believed were into me.
It just doesn’t make sense. I’ve never felt electricity or sparks or anything like that with another human being. And yet I felt something real when I was with them. A connection emanated from all of us...I thought.
I admonish myself for thinking so and go about my task. But it’s very hard when the handsome faces of these unattainable guys are right before me.
Each one of them is different from the other, and that’s what’s so appealing. I imagine some woman is going to be lucky enough to be in their lives, and I feel silly for thinking it could’ve been me.
And just when I’m starting to sulk over the fact, I feel a pair of hands cover my eyes.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he says.
