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I eye her with curiosity, hoping she will continue, and she does. “There’s not a day that goes by when I don’t miss Mr. Watson.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he passed away.”
“It will be eleven years this November.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“He was mugged on his way home from the lumber yard where he worked. They must have been watching, waiting until they knew it was payday. They weren’t content with taking his wages,” she says sadly. “They took his life away as well. I couldn’t make it out of bed for the first few months after it happened. I drank myself to sleep most nights. The bank threatened to take away my home because I wasn’t working and falling behind on the mortgage payments. It was on my way back from the meeting with the bank manager that I stopped to buy the local paper. It was always something Mr. Watson liked to read. That’s when I spotted Mrs. Garo’s advertisement for assistance around the home and someone to help take care of her boys.”
“You helped take care of Saint and his brother when they were younger?”
“I did, yes. He was always a handful that one. A little rascal, getting up to all sorts. While Jackson always had his head stuck in a book. He was so smart that he could have been anything he wanted if he had put his mind to it.”
“Saint is like that too, though. He thinks no one can see it, but I do.”
Her brow quirks, so I quickly change the subject away from him.
“What was she like, his mom? There are no pictures of her around the house.”
“Mr. Garo took them all down after she died. Saint keeps some in his room. I thought you would have seen them,” she says with a knowing look.
I swallow hard, looking away to hide the embarrassment creeping up my neck.
Does she know about us? What were we doing when we thought no one else was in the house?
If she does, she doesn’t give it away, thankfully. I would die of mortification.
“I was only in his room that once. You know, when I put talc powder in his hairdryer,” I admit because it’s the truth. Anytime we were together, it was either in here or in the cinema room where there were no cameras.
“Oh yes. I remember the talc powder in the hair dryer incident well.”
I chuckle, remembering him coming into the kitchen like an abominable snowman. It wasn’t long after I’d moved in, and he was being a major dickwad to me, so I put talc powder in his hairdryer.
“Did you ever speak to someone? Professionally, I mean.”
“I did for many years. They were fantastic to me. Taught me coping mechanisms and meditation for the days I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. I only stopped going after Mrs. Garo offered me the job. The boys were a handful and kept my mind busy.”
“I’m glad it helped,” I say, smiling.
“So, what’s it going to be? School to learn or lying in bed feeling awful all day?”
My smile widens, and I launch myself into her arms.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me, dear. I’ll always be here for you when you need me.”
“I think you’re right about talking to someone. Maybe it will help me?”
“It will. I promise.”
I smile again.
“How about we do some baking again when you come home from school today?”
“I’d really like that.”
“Good. And you know if things get too much, you can always ring me.”
