Page 79 of The Making of Marnie Jones

“Why would Jake be mad at you?” She tried to understand how Olivia was processing the previous day’s events.

“I refused to see him last night.” Olivia fingered a cloth napkin, ignoring Marnie's gaze. “I was childish.”

Marnie placed her hand over Olivia's, stilling it. “You had every right to be upset with Jake. He broke your trust, and although he had his reasons, it's up to him to explain to you why he did what he did.” She squeezed the younger woman’s hand, trying to offer comfort and solace. “If it's any consolation, they hacked his email. He feels bad about what happened.”

Olivia’s eyes were bright. “I'll talk to him today. Is he coming here, or am I going home? Well, I don't mean home, I mean back to Jessica's place. It’s weird I think of that place as home, right?”

“Olivia, home can be complicated. You're an adult, so you appreciate things are a little uncertain right now.” Marnie searched for the right words. “Your mother hasn't paid rent, and the landlord changed the locks to the apartment.”

“That's okay. It happened a lot when I was a kid. But I'm worried about my mom, though. What do you think happened to her?”

Marnie wished she were anywhere else at that precise moment. She’d no idea where Lydia was, and wanted to tear a strip off the woman for what she was putting Olivia through.

“Your mother probably needed to take some time away.”

Mrs. Grant offered an explanation Marnie hoped would suffice.

“She was scared after she got arrested, and now she needs time to reflect on what she's done, and what she's going to do.” She presented the omelet to Olivia. “Now, eat up.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“You can call me Matilda.” She turned to Marnie. “Close that gaping jaw. You can call me Matilda as well.”

Grinning, Marnie tried out the name. “Matilda.” She shook her head. “Sorry, it’ll always be Mrs. Grant.”

“As it ought to be. Just like I'm going to keep calling you Laura even though you now go by Marnie.” She stirred the next omelet. “Odd choice, by the way.”

Might as well be honest.“Marnie Nyack was the smartest girl at school. She was tough and strong, but also had a sense of humor. I always wanted to be like her.” She often wondered where her namesake was now. Not just popular, Marnie Nyack had also been beautiful and courageous, once confronting a group of bullies when they were picking on a weaker girl. In that moment, Marnie’d seen the person she most aspired to be. Now that the media had revealed her own whereabouts, she supposed she could do an internet search to find out what had happened to the real Marnie.

Mrs. Grant huffed. “You’re strong, tough, and smart, as you well know. As for a sense of humor…that is a whole other story.” With practiced ease she flipped the omelet onto a plate and presented it to Marnie. “A little bit too serious for my taste.”

Avoiding the housekeeper’s gaze, she grabbed her fork. “My father wouldn’t have tolerated any antics.”

“Too true, but look at you now. Fine young woman with a life of her own.”

She blushed at the unexpected praise. Mrs. Grant’s opinion mattered as much as her father’s. Perhaps more, because this woman knew her better than anyone else in the world. Well, Jake’s familiarity with her neuroses, and comprehension of her emotions, rivaled the housekeeper’s. She took her first bite and closed her eyes.Bliss.She was transported back to her childhood. Mrs. Grant's omelets were the lightest and fluffiest concoctions on earth, and nothing was comparable.

The omelet quickly disappeared, and she took another swig of water. “I need a shower. Olivia, can you watch television until I come back?”

“I was hoping to keep Mrs. Grant company.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Mrs. Grant smiled. “I'm sure I have more than a few stories of Laura as a child that I can trot out.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.” Marnie winked at Olivia. “Don't believe everything she says.” With a last grin, she headed upstairs.

As Marnie showered, she pondered over Matilda. Now in her mid-fifties, the woman’d been with the family since the death of Marnie's mother when Marnie was two years old. If there’d ever been a Mr. Grant, Marnie had no knowledge of him. Mrs. Grant lived in a suite in the servant’s quarters and was the only staff member who lived on-site. In all these years, Marnie’d never seen the woman take a day off, and had no clue if she had any life beyond Derks Mansion.

She had questions.None of your business.Whatever arrangement existed between her father and the housekeeper was their business and theirs alone. When she left at twenty, she forfeited her right to ask questions. Maybe this was a sign of her maturity that she was questioning what she’d previously accepted.

Opting for jeans and a T-shirt, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and grabbed a sweater. Upon taking possession of the house years ago, her father's first step in updating the turn-of-the-century mansion had been the installation of central air conditioning and heating. Although Martin Derks was stingy in every aspect of business, he liked his creature comforts at home. The house had the latest technology, expensive televisions, and fancy gadgets in every room. A few years prior, the kitchen had undergone a complete renovation, and she half-expected to find her own room redecorated. But the décor was still the cream and sage green it’d been for as far back as her memory went.

When she came into the kitchen, she found the housekeeper alone. “You can redecorate my room.”

Mrs. Grant's eyebrow shot up. “Your father has been asking, but I told him it ought to stay as it is so you’d always know you could come home.”

“What did my father say?”

“Let's just say it wasn't fit to print.”

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