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With just a couple hours of sleep and nowhere to pass the time, as Jeanette suggested she give Pearl a few days to settle into her old routine, all she wanted to do was lie by the pool and sleep all day. Then, hit Errol’s office again once everyone played the “Blame Game” and settled into their crypts for the night.
Early morning light shone through the kitchen windows. The room was eerily silent except for Vanessa, their longtime cook and housekeeper, who was dutifully washing and drying the breakfast dishes.
Vanessa must have been in her early fifties. Fit and with what seemed an unusual amount of energy for a woman of her age.
“Good morning, Vanessa. Where is everybody?” Birdie asked, pulling a bottled water out of the refrigerator.
“Good morning, Mrs. Shepherd. Mrs. Shepherd is attending a ladies’ luncheon, Mr. Errol left for the office, and Mr. Flynn is in his room, playingFortnite.”
Hmm, a grown man into gaming. Flynn wasn’t as abnormal as he seemed.
Birdie considered the ever-deferential housekeeper and cook as she vigorously dried a plate and placed it in the appropriate cabinet.
The elderly woman had been with Marshall for years, since shortly after Birdie moved in. She always kept to herself. Seemingly lacking any real interest in becoming closer to the family.
Even when Marshall was alive and Pearl visited them every weekend. Spending the night in her husband’s bedroom.
The whole arrangement had to have seemed quite odd. But Vanessa never asked questions and rarely spoke of things outside of what was for dinner and who would be attending that evening’s meal.
And now, with the Addam’s family in residence, she still maintained a remarkable amount of discretion and forbearance.
“Vanessa,” Birdie said, not sure how to engage the intensely private woman. “What are your thoughts concerning Errol and Ariana? I mean, it’s all a very strange set of affairs, wouldn’t you say?”
The woman’s drying efforts paused, keeping her eyes glued to the dish in her hands. “I don’t concern myself with what occurs outside of my responsibilities.”
Birdie chuckled nervously. “You don’t think it’s strange that I married my stepson?”
“It’s not my job to concern myself as to the whys and wherefores of what goes on in this house. My job is to manage the cleaning staff and prepare meals.”
“And you do such a fine job,” Birdie complimented. The woman continued to dry another plate with fervor.
Well, this conversation was going nowhere.
Despite being standoffish, Birdie knew the woman was well aware of everything that went on in the house.
Maybe she’d try again tomorrow.
Ask the woman questions about herself and her own family. Birdie found that people loved talking about themselves. Surely, Vanessa would be no different.
Then again, Birdie despised talking about personal matters.
Perhaps Vanessa had her own skeletons she preferred to keep hidden?
Enough with the ruminating. She was blessedly alone in what used to be her home. She decided to take advantage of the peace and quiet.
All but skipping to the back of the house, relishing a few hours of solitude, she unfolded the accordion-style doors to let the sunshine in and hopefully rid the house of evil spirits.
Maybe she should hunt down the cobalt-blue colored bottles and put out an anti-haint tree, like Bernadette.
Rid this place of all the evil running rampant.
Eyeing the pool, she stopped short.
Well, shoot.
The pool boy was still here.
She sighed. It wasn’t like her to refer to the pool maintenance staff as boys, but honestly, what grown-ass man used a self-tanning spray?
