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I shook my head, unable to look at her with a straight face. No wonder why she never brought her uniforms home. My dad and I never would’ve let her live it down. “Please tell me she doesn’t make you use a feather duster.”
Laughter tumbled out of her. “No.”
“Good,” I said, loving that she could still laugh after everything we’d been through. There was hope for me yet.
“How’d you sleep?” she asked.
“I’d be lying if I said good.”
Her lips twisted in disappointment. “Is there anything I can do?”
I shook my head. “It’s gonna take time.”
She walked over and wrapped her arms around me. “For both of us.”
I relaxed into her hug, wishing a hug didn’t feel so necessary.
She inevitably released me and stepped back, straightening her uniform.
“Would it be okay if I explore the grounds or do they have security—or vicious dogs—patrolling the premise to keep the riff-raff out?”
She smirked, knowing my dad and I had teased her for years about the hoity-toity place she worked. “Everyone knows you’re here now. They’ll leave you alone. Just be sure not to wear a ski mask or press your back against the wall and act suspicious.”
I laughed. “I think I can handle that.”
“Oh,” she said abruptly. “The boys will be at school until two-thirty.”
“They’re not on spring break?”
She shook her head. “They had it last week and spent it in Mexico. But when they do get home, stay away from them.”
My brows knitted together. “Why?”
She pursed her lips as if she didn’t know how to verbalize what she wanted to say. “They…” she began. “They haven’t been the same since their father died.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means…their idea of a good time is not the same as yours.”
“Could you be any more cryptic?” I asked.
She heaved a sigh. “Trust me, Grace. They enjoy hurting others. Let me rephrase that. They enjoywatchingother people get hurt. They’ve changed over the past three years and neither Maureen nor Martine can control them.”
“Okay. No fraternizing with twisted rich boys who torture others. Got it.”
“I’m not joking,” my mother warned as she grabbed her phone from the counter and tucked it into her frilly white apron. “Stay away from them,” she said as she moved to the door and opened it. “Call me if you need me.”
“You mean if I get lost?”
She rolled her eyes before closing the door behind her, probably knowing that me getting lost on the property was a true possibility.
* * *
I sat under one of many beautiful flowering trees trying to read a book on my phone. Since my dad died, I couldn’t finish a chapter without my mind wandering back to him—his laugh, his advice, his amazing hugs. I switched over to social media, scanning my news feeds for anything to make me feel as though I hadn’t been ripped away from my town. I hadn’t seen most of my friends since the funeral. And, I really needed my friends. Sure, we talked every day, but it wasn’t the same. I couldn’t wait to be back at school on Monday.
My finger lingered over my photos app. I desperately needed to see my dad, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at photos or videos of him yet.
“Oh my God!”
