Page 94 of In Spades

A very, very small blessing.

Rumors of new upper management persisted, but I would believe it when it happened. For the time being, I had to make myself as indispensable as possible. The two-dollar-an-hour raise I received had been a welcomed change. I could put up with an army of general managers if my checks kept looking as nice as they did, especially with all the overtime I pulled.

“No. Why?” I asked as I dropped the pile of sheets into the housekeeping cart. “Have you heard something?”

Maria flashed a devilish grin. “You know how it goes. The help knows everything.”

It was a blessing and a curse. Maids could move through the inn and be seemingly invisible. People actively overlooked us to avoid thinking about the backbreaking work involved in keeping all the rooms in tip-top shape. No one wanted to think about someone picking up after them.

Someone had to do it, though.

The work was thankless most of the time, but the gossip made up for it. Guests ran their mouths freely because—well—we were just the maids.

It was pretty damn entertaining.

The number of people having affairs staggered me. It wasn’t just summertimers, either. Locals used the inn for daytime hookups, too.

Certain levels of management also tended to overlook the housekeeping staff. Sure, we got railed if something was out of place or a guest complained. But, other than that, Rich the Dick and his minions didn’t want to think about the dirty details.

“Well? Are you going to spill the tea or keep me hanging?” I asked, laughing as I tucked the corners of a fitted sheet around the mattress.

Maria paused as she sprayed glass cleaner on the balcony doors. “Why is it always tea that’s spilled? Why not coffee or wine?” She spritzed a little more and wiped the glass. “Saying spill the juice would make the most sense. After all, doesn’t tea mean gossip? And gossip is juicy. It’s the juice that should be spilled.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Will you get to the point already?”

Maria hooked the spray bottle's trigger on the edge of the cart and tossed the paper towels in the garbage bag. “Karina put in her notice.”

I nearly choked on my tongue. “What?”

Karina Miller worked as the assistant manager at the inn. She had overseen the day-to-day of the inn for longer than I could remember and had clear aims for the general manager position if Rich ever left.

One could dream.

Truthfully, Karina had always been too good for this place. She lived and breathed hospitality, and busted her ass to do it. Unlike Rich, she had never been afraid to get her hands dirty. Even if it meant unpleasant tasks like overnight deep cleans or laundering endless loads of linens, Karina never hesitated to get down in the trenches with the rest of us.

“You’re joking,” I said, shaking my head. Part of me wanted to stomp down to Karina’s office and tell her to pull her head out of her ass.

She couldn’t leave us on our own with Rich.

Maria nodded. “I said the same thing. But I heard Rich talking about the new management company and how they wanted Karina gone.” Then, muttering under her breath, she added, “Don’t know how he missed the firing squad.”

“So, she quit before they could fire her?” I asked as I folded crisp corners on the flat sheet. “That doesn’t make sense. If they fired her, she’d at least get a severance.”

Tying off the ends of the trash bag by the desk, Maria shrugged. “I don’t know. If she’s giving up a severance, she must have a good reason for leaving.”

“You’re not leaving, are you?” I asked, forcing a laugh as I smoothed down the comforter and laid the emerald green decorative runner across the foot of the bed.

When it came to staff turnover, the good ones usually left first. The inn paid decently, but a person could only tolerate so much bullshit.

“Not unless they tell me to go,” Maria said, as she turned off the lights and backed the cart away from the door.

I knocked, called out the housekeeping greeting, then yanked on the master key clipped to my badge reel to open the next room.

“This is a hobby for me,” she said as we swapped tasks. Maria took the bed this time, and I took the bathroom and amenities. “But you have the little ones to think about. So maybe put your résumé out there. See if you can find something better.”

I snorted. “My résumé is one line long: Kristin Boyd: college dropout and maid. End of résumé.”

“Head housekeeper,” Maria said sternly. “Nothing pets my peeves more than people talking down about themselves.”

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