Page 80 of Love Under the Microscope
My stomach drops. “Today?”
Three hours later, we park a rented van outside retired mega soap star actor Neil Carrington’s manor house. We’re dressed in blue coveralls with fake mustaches and beards. Just call us the two pool guys, even though we look more like we belong in a video game.
“This is fucking ridiculous.” I shake my head. “It’ll never work.”
“It will.” Zelda presses the doorbell. “Trust me.”
“Zelda, I’m n—”
I don’t finish because the door swings open, and a small guy with a thin mustache faces us. The expression on his face tells me he isn’t having a good day. His nostrils are flared, and his jaw is set tight.
“Yes?” His voice is snippy.
“We’re here to take care of the pool,” I say, seeing as Zelda can’t sound like a guy no matter how much we practiced earlier.
The guy lowers his gaze to my feet and then slowly looks back up to my face. Zelda fidgets beside me, and I elbow her to stop moving because she’s making me nervous. When the guy stares at me for a few seconds more without saying anything, I feel a whole lot worse and clear my throat.
He sighs. “We don’t have a pool.”
What?
How does a huge mansion with pillars outside the front door and a huge fountain in the middle of the drive not have a damn pool? And then I remember, this is Seattle with all its rain. Pools aren’t normal here like in other parts of the country. But Zelda owes me for getting this wrong. She sounded so certain, but it makes me wonder what else she forgot about this place.
“Oh, right,” Zelda says in a voice that sounds like a prepubescent boy. “We’re here to measure for one.”
“I wasn’t told this.” He folds his arms and studies Zelda. When he leans a little closer to scrutinize her, my heart pounds. “Do I know you?”
Zelda shakes her head. “Nope.”
He watches her for a few seconds more and then turns to me. “Which company are you from?”
I hold out the notepaper with a professional-looking logo we’d mocked up earlier with the instructions to examine the Carrington pool, which clearly doesn’t exist—something I’ll kill Zelda for later. The man at the door takes the paper from me and reads it.
“Our scheduler is hard of hearing.” I attempt to explain the incorrect wording. “I believe Mr. Carrington called from his hotel in Nice, so maybe he had a bad connection.”
“This is very inconvenient.” The guy folds the paper and hands it back to me. “I’m at a particularly crucial point in the monthly accounts.”
“No problem,” I say. “We can go about our business and not disturb you.”
He looks carefully at Zelda again and nods. “Fine, I’ll take you through the house to the garden. I’ll then be in my office next to the kitchen.” He stands to one side, encouraging us to follow him, and continues talking. “Under no circumstances are you to break any ground or come into the house without being escorted by me.”
Neither of us speaks, and I think it’s our way of not lying to him…because we’re going into that house the first chance we get.
He leads us to the huge yard that would be more perfect with a pool. Zelda tenses as she glances behind us. I have the feeling she’s wondering how to get inside and find her pages.
“Okay, come to the door and shout for me when you’re finished.” He gives us another look and then leaves.
I wait for the guy to disappear. “How the hell did you not know that they didn’t have a pool?”
“I thought they did, but I only came a couple of times and was usually kept in the ‘drawing room’ with Sandra. Though I’ve been to Nigel’s bedroom.”
“Who the hell is Sandra?”
“Nigel’s mom. I’m just grateful the housekeeper isn’t home. Her real name is Marsha, but I called her Malisha, so that should tell you all you need to know about her.”
“Let it be known I called this plan of yours ridiculous.” I turn around to check that the guy hasn’t come back. “We need to get into the house. How the hell do we do that?”
“Let’s try Nigel’s room.” She points over to the other side of the lawn and gesticulates like we’re discussing where a pool should go. “It’s on the ground floor by the patio. He has a small suite of rooms.”
