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“Hello. It’s very nice to meet you, Harriet.” An elderly man with white hair smiled at me. He had a monocle on and reminded me of someone from an old black-and-white movie.
“Oh, nice to meet you as well.” I paused. “I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”
“Oh, you can call me Dr. Horatio Port.”
“Dr. Horatio Port. Okay. Well, nice to meet you, Dr. Port. How do you know Finn?”
“Oh, we work together,” he said, smiling. “In fact, I’ve been very, very curious to see how—”
He stopped suddenly as someone tapped him on the shoulder.
“Now, now, Dr. Port.” It was a glamorous, middle-aged lady wearing a slinky red dress. “Hello, dear.”
“Hi,” I said, smiling at her.
“My name is May.”
“Oh, nice to meet you, May.”
“Yeah, so you’re the study.”
“Sorry, what?”
She laughed. “You’re the new housekeeper for Finn.”
“Yeah, I just started recently.”
“I’ve heard,” she said, nodding. “And you’re the one responsible for the wonderful dinner we’re going to have this evening?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “I am very excited to impress you all with my culinary skills.”
“I heard you trained at a culinary institute in France,” Dr. Port said. “Which culinary institute would that be? I actually have a granddaughter that studied—”
“Oh,” I said quickly, interrupting him. “I need to go and check on my lamb, but let’s continue this conversation later, okay?”
I smiled at him winningly, and he nodded. He looked over at May, his eyes sparkling. I wondered what area of Finn’s business they were involved in. They didn’t look like Wall Street bankers, but maybe they did something else for his company. I didn’t even really know what his company did if I was honest. I had just seen a website saying he was one of the top five wealthiest men in the country.
I hurried toward the kitchen. As I entered the room, Chelsea looked up at me and whistled. “Wow, girl. You look amazing.”
“Thank you,” I said, spinning around in my black dress. “Don’t you remember I got this dress at Kohl’s a couple of years ago?”
“Yeah, but it looks much better than I thought,” she said. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you.”
Polly opened the oven, her nose wrinkled. “Ah, shit,” she said.
“What is it?” I asked her.
“I think the lamb might have burned a little bit.” Polly wrinkled her nose.
“Oh no. What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s burned.”
“Hmm, can you cut the burned pieces off?”
