Page 11 of Second Act
“I just got here from LA.” He described the emails he had received and the help he needed from her. “It’s not a very exciting job, I’m afraid. It’s mostly faxes and emails, and scanning, maybe a few phone calls to LA. It’s not a full day’s work. I was thinking that maybe you could come every morning, say till lunchtime. Would that be enough for you?” he asked, and she nodded. She seemed very shy, and he guessed her to be in her early or mid-thirties. Then she surprised him by saying she was thirty-eight. She said it was on her CV, which he hadn’t read yet. She had handed it to him when she walked in. It was information she didn’t have to give him but she had anyway. She hadn’t worked in a long time, and things had changed.
“Are you in a job now?” he asked her. “Or are you working part-time somewhere else?” She was well dressed and didn’t look like she needed to work. She was well-spoken, and from what he could tell, sounded like she was from an educated upper-class British background.
“No, I’m not in a job. Actually, I haven’t worked in eleven years. I was a journalist in London for TheSunday Times. I got married and moved here, and I haven’t worked since then. I’ve been doing odd jobs and part-time for the past several months. I need to get back in the work force. I should probably go back to London, but eleven years is a long time to be out of work. I’m not really up-to-date anymore, except for something like this. My computer skills are pretty basic, but I can certainly scan and email.” She smiled at him, and hesaw how pretty she was when she did. She was a serious-looking woman, and she hadn’t smiled until then.
He wondered if she was married, but couldn’t ask. He preferred single assistants, like Frances. Their personal lives didn’t interfere, and Violet was a reasonable age. She was not some wild twenty-two-year-old, out dancing every night and hungover the next day.
She volunteered the information on her own. “I’m no longer married and I don’t have children.” He noticed that she looked sad when she said it, but he didn’t comment.
“Well, what do you think, Violet? It’s not an exciting job, but I definitely need help. Would it suit you?” She was obviously intelligent and overqualified for the job, but that was a plus for him, if it didn’t bother her. He guessed at what seemed like a fair rate to him, and her eyes widened in surprise when he said it.
“I hope I’ll be worth that,” she said softly, “and yes, the job would suit me very well. When would you like me to start?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
She smiled at his answer. “That’s fine with me. I’ve been filling in at the bookshop, but they can manage very well without me. I told them I was coming for an interview, and I can still help them on weekends.” Andy had a feeling that she needed the money, although she didn’t look it. She looked very well put together, and her clothes looked expensive. She had a well-brought-up look to her.
“You can dress casually for work. We won’t be seeing anyone. It’s just the housekeeper and her helper here, and myself.”
“Are jeans okay sometimes?” she asked cautiously. “Not every day.”
“Fine. Any other questions?” She said she had none, and five minutes later, she left, and he saw that she had come on a bicycle. She seemed like a very nice woman, and none of the work he had for her was complicated. He felt sure she was more than capable of it.
—
She arrived promptly at nine the next morning, and Andy was waiting for her in the study with a list of the emails he needed to have printed. There were a lot of them.
She had worn a navy blue twin set and jeans, with a string of pearls and running shoes, and got right to work, checking his list. She was working in the library on the main floor. He had offered her tea or coffee, which she declined.
“We need a printer, I’m afraid,” he told her, “and there’s one on the inventory, but I can’t find it, and the housekeeper didn’t know where it is either. There are half a dozen servants’ rooms upstairs jammed full of boxes and the owners’ belongings. I hope it’s not up there. It will take us hours to find it.”
“I doubt it would be, Mr. Westfield,” she said primly. “I think I know where it might be.” She stood up from the desk, walked to the far wall, took out a section of four books, reached in and pressed a button, and a whole section of what looked like bookshelves with leather-bound books on them came forward and revealed a large storage space behind it. The printer and a computer were there. She took both out, and some other supplies and paper she needed to print. Andy stared at her in amazement.
“How did you know that was there?” he asked her.
“A lot of these old houses have secret passages and false walls,” she said quietly, “and even when a new owner remodels, they usually preserve things like that. It was just a guess,” she said modestly. Andy was still stunned.
“That’s incredible. Do you think there’s a secret passage here too?”
“I don’t, but we can always look. They’re hard to find and harder to maintain, and I always think they’re dangerous with children in the house. So if they did have one, they might have sealed it up.” She clearly knew what she was talking about, as Andy realized that there was more to Violet Smith than one guessed initially. She had a Lois Lane quality, the young woman inSupermanwho had hidden superpowers. She set up the printer without making a fuss, and twenty minutes later she had all his emails printed and ready to sign. And as soon as he did, she scanned and emailed them to the people who had sent them and were waiting for his signature on a variety of documents, most of them financial.
She printed out several more that had come in after that. Andy was in the kitchen getting something cold to drink when Violet came in for a cup of tea and Mrs. MacInnes’s face brightened and she smiled warmly. Andy hadn’t seen the housekeeper smile yet until then. She was pleasant, polite, but a very dour woman. But with Violet she looked genuinely delighted to see her.
“How are you?” she asked her, and Violet responded quietly.
“I’m fine.” She smiled, gently touched the housekeeper’s shoulder, and went back to the study to finish her work. She had beenvery professional with Andy all morning, but clearly the two women knew each other personally. It was a very small town, so not surprising that they’d met, or were friends.
Everything was finished at one o’clock. Violet’s desk was impeccably neat, and she had done everything Andy needed her to do. He couldn’t resist asking her as she got ready to leave, “Have you worked here before?”
“No,” she said quietly. “I know Mrs. MacInnes from town. We shop at the same market, and she comes into the bookshop quite a lot. We have a lending library there too.” The explanation sounded reasonable to him. After Violet left, he made himself a sandwich in the kitchen and chatted with Mrs. MacInnes when she walked in.
“I noticed that you and Violet know each other,” he said, fishing a little. He was still curious about Violet, and what she was doing in Winchelsea Beach. It seemed like a dead end for her. “She said you met at the bookshop. She’s a lovely woman and very efficient.”
“She’s a wonderful person. It’s a shame she has to work,” Mrs. MacInnes said with feeling, obviously sympathetic. “At least she’ll be treated well here.” She had already decided that Andy seemed like a kind man. “She’s fallen on hard times,” she volunteered, which made sense to him, given the way Violet spoke and the clothes she wore.
“I’m surprised she’s not working in London,” Andy said.
“She probably can’t afford to move. London’s expensive. She can live more cheaply here, and the realtor hadn’t told them and maybe didn’t know.”
