Page 17 of Sweet Little Thing

“She makes damn good waffles, Stone. She puts fruit cream stuff on them. There are strawberries mixed inside.”

“Sounds delicious,” he replied, with no enthusiasm, as I delivered his plate.

“Could you bring one for my charming friend?” Jasper asked with a roll of his eyes.

“Of course,” I answered, turning to Stone. “Can I get you some coffee to start?”

He didn’t look at me but nodded. “And juice. Orange. Fresh squeezed.”

I left with Jasper’s plate before they began talking. I wondered if he would tell Jasper about my second job. Maybe he had beenwaiting until it was awkward for me. That fit him. To be cruel and harsh. I didn’t know what to expect.

I’d made several waffles, unsure who I would be feeding. The only thing that took any time was squeezing the oranges in the juicer. Once I had Stone’s fresh-squeezed juice, I carried his breakfast back out.

“You’re going to have to discuss it with him sooner or later. . .” Jasper was saying as I returned to the room with the food.

“I didn’t ask you,” Stone replied.

Jasper smirked and turned his attention to me. “He’s always such a charming shit. Beulah, have you noticed that?”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even smile. I placed his food on the table in front of him and stood back, waiting to see if they needed anything else before I retreated.

“I plan on staying around this morning and speaking with Portia,” Jasper said. “If you’d like to be present, I’m fine with that. Since it concerns you, that’s only fair.”

I paused. He was going to talk to her about Heidi and myself and our arrangement. Why she helped us? What’s the connection? He could possibly get the answers I’d been curious about. Not that I wasn’t thankful for all she’d done in the past. Portia knew my mother, and I wanted to know how. I missed her. Had no one to discuss her with. None of her friends were in my world. Talking about Mom with Heidi wasn’t an option. I’d tried that once, but it hadn’t gone well. Heidi couldn’t separate death and life. Not the way most people could. She was too full of joy. Something I envied.

“I’d like that,” I replied. If Portia knew Momma and could talk about her, I wanted to be there and hear it—anything, some link to her.

Stone stopped mid-bite, his fork almost to his mouth, “What did I miss?” he asked.

Jasper looked at me as if unspoken words had been suddenlyexchanged. With a glance, I understood his question, and he absorbed my answer. I’d never experienced that before. “Just Portia being Portia. I need to lay down some rules regarding Beulah. She also works for me. Mother can’t remember that.”

Stone shifted his gaze. Accusation in his eyes. He thought I’d lied about my job. That I was hiding it. I had the urge to defend myself, but I didn’t, not to Stone. What he thought of me didn’t matter.

“Meet us in the great room at ten. She’ll be in her whiskey by then.”

I nodded then turned to leave.

“You’ve got your own shit to deal with. Jesus, the drama, stay out of mine,” I heard Stone say to Jasper.

Jasper chuckled. “But yours is more fun to discuss. Mine is dull.”

“Because you like to pretend your life is fucking sweet.”

“My life has never been sweet. But then, neither has yours. Now, tell me, has your mother picked out the engagement ring she intends for you to give Margot?”

Whoever Margot was I felt sympathy for her. I didn’t care how sinfully attractive the man was or how wealthy he might be. Nothing could make living with Stone pleasant. But he hadn’t mentioned my job. I’d expected him to want to get me in trouble. He struck me as so unpleasant that he’d want others to join him.

Thinking about that and poor Margot was pointless. I pushed it aside and thought of other things. Like how many nights I could sleep for three hours before I crashed and burned? I made myself a thermos of coffee and carried it with me up to the second floor to do the weekly dusting. I then changed the beds no one ever slept in for the sake of changing the beds. The floor only needed dusting. Maybe a pass over the hardwoods. Nobody ever used the space. Portia’s master suite was on the third floor. I only went up there when she was gone for the day. She liked herquiet and privacy.

The next two hours went swiftly by. I checked my watch every ten minutes, waiting for ten to arrive. Portia telling me something about my mother might not seem like a lot to some people, but to me, it meant so much. Anything to understand why she’d sent us here, a small piece of her past revealed. To hear her talked about again.

At ten, I put the cleaning supplies away and made my way to the great room. As I entered, my eyes locked with Jasper’s. He smiled. It was encouraging—like I wasn’t alone. As if he was my friend, though I knew that wasn’t the case. It felt like it for a second.

“Why is she here?” Portia asked. “I assumed this was about her other job. Yes, I knew, and if you have a problem, then deal with it yourself.” Portia didn’t glance my way. “I need my coffee, Beulah. Where have you been all morning?”

Jasper cleared his throat and got my attention, then motioned for me to take a seat. “Please, Beulah, ignore her and just sit down.”

Portia’s head snapped up from her iPad. “What? Why is she staying?”

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