Page 7 of Maid for My Billionaire Boss
The one thing I did know . . .
I was doing everything I could for Josiah. I never planned on raising him alone. We were in a new city, starting over with no help. It was all so overwhelming, but he had no one else but me. With that as my sole motivation—it was still excruciating—I fought back tears and laced up my Alice sneakers.
The noisy bathroom pipe sounded from across the hall, confirming Josiah was awake with his scrolling thoughts again. It was way too early to go to work, but in a way, I was happy because we’d have time to walk to the beach again. That walk was the reason I had applied for the job in the first place, because I didn’t have a car. I had originally wanted a nanny job. I figured watching a child similar to Josiah’s age would make it easy to bring him along. None of that mattered because no references meant no interviews. When I saw the ad for my position and noticed it was within walking distance, I took it as a sign. It really was my only option which made my terrible first day so much more suffocating.
This morning when we arrived at the house, I heard ear-screeching clanking noises. Tracing the sound to the kitchen, I found Mrs. Michael yanking out a pan, then she rejected it, tossing it noisily back into the cupboard. “You’d think he’d have a nine by thirteen in here somewhere.”
Squinting, like closing my eyes would help to block the cacophony, I set my smoothie shaker on the counter. “It doesn’t look like he does much cooking.” I kept one eye on Josiah as he plopped down at the table and busied himself with setting out his schoolbooks. When satisfied he didn’t need my help, I arched a brow back at her. “What are you trying to make?”
“A birthday cake,” she said in a huff.
“Is it Trey’s birthday?”
“No, it’s Tonya’s.” She banged around in the cabinet again.
“And who is Tonya?”
“That’s his girlfriend and he’s throwing her a party.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” I gave up waiting for her to wake the dead and walked to the little cupboard next to the fridge. I had cleaned it out yesterday, arranging everything into a single stack of stainless-steel pans, all stowed according to size. I was easily able to grab the exact one she needed. “Here.” I set it on the counter in front of her, letting out a breath of relief because she could finally be quiet. “This looks like it is a nine by thirteen.”
“Oh, thank you.” Her eyes flicked back to the cupboard. “I was going to try that one next.” She took the pan and slid it across the counter to where she had set up a baking station with mostly normal-looking baking ingredients. I raised a brow when I landed on a stray can of tomato soup and a brand-new jar of mayonnaise.
“So, when does the party start?” I asked as I went to the broom closet and grabbed my broom and dustpan.
“I don’t know for sure.” Her eyes steadied forward as she read her recipe. In a monotone voice, she added, “You know how it is with family.”
My chin inclined to a curious position, but I stayed quiet, vowing to mind my business.
“She’s plastic.” Her comment seemed to float in the air like it didn’t even come from her.
“Pardon me?”
“Tonya, she has more plastic parts than a cheap lawn mower.” She shook her head, like she was feeling shame. “I wouldn’t want to sit next to her in a hot tub. You’d find floaties.”
The immature child in my brain wanted to chuckle. Yet, I managed to bite it back. “It can’t be that bad.”
“I’ve known her since she was fifteen when Trey took her to the Snowball Dance. She used to be such a natural beauty. Ever since she moved to California, she’s always remodeling something.” Her eyes shifted, landing on my smoothie shaker. “Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?”
“It’s not that kind of a drink.” I shot her a sassy grin. “It’s my famous smoothie recipe. Well, famous as of last night.” I picked up the shaker and opened the lid so she could see the royal blue color. “I wanted something healthy. Plus, it’s an easy way for me to slip in my secret weight control supplements.” I held it closer to her face and urged, “Smell it.”
Taking the bait, she leaned her nose forward. “That doesn’t smell too bad, but how does it taste?”
“It tastes good. Even Josiah liked this one.” I set the shaker back on the counter and offered, “I can make you one and bring it over tomorrow if you want to try it?”
I thought for sure she’d sneer at the idea, but instead, she gave me a sideways glance. “Sure . . . I can try one.”
“All right, I’ll bring you one.” I felt proud she was willing to try my famous, to me and Josiah, smoothie.
Then she looked back at her baking project like she noticed it for the first time. “Oh, I better get to work here. I want it to have time to cool so I can frost it before the party.”
“Right,” I agreed, hoping she wasn’t going to use the mayonnaise as frosting on a tomato-flavored cake. I sighed to myself, releasing a hint of a giggle. I gripped my broom loosely, sweeping in the opposite direction, away from her, and called back, “Well, enjoy the party.”
Withanextrasmoothieshaker tucked in the nook of my arm, Josiah and I moved like mice as we made our way to the kitchen the following morning. Mrs. Michael sat at the table with a porcelain mug of coffee, still piping out of the top. I was beginning to wonder if she had a house of her own, even though she insisted she did.
“Good morning,” I said in my best cheery voice, trying hard to want to be here today. “You’re at ’em early this morning.”
Her lips curled into a pleasant-enough smile. “I’m a morning person.”
