Page 15 of The Bargain

I walked down the corridor, heading toward the kitchen. Timmy sat securely in his baby carrier against my chest.

The more I walked down these halls, the more I discovered small details, leading me to suspect that the ominous, gloomy atmosphere of this house was more due to the present owner and the drama that had happened here rather than the building itself.

I let my fingers trail against the refined wooden moldings fresco on my way to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Ms. Collins. Did you have a good night?” Mrs. James, the housekeeper asked, as she set a plate of waffles and a glass of orange juice on the table for me.

“Very good, Mrs. James. This is the best bed I've ever slept in.”

I saw some compassion and sadness flash in her eyes as she helped me put Timmy in the baby booster feeding seat.

This woman had been nothing like I'd expected.

After Dean's rebuttal and barely veiled hatred in my apartment, I'd expected all of his staff to give me the cold shoulder as well. But where he has been mean, they have been kind. Where he has been dismissive, they have been inclusive, and where he has been cold, they have been warm.

Mrs. James was older than I'd expected. She told me she’d been working here since the Beaumont family had moved in.

She explained that the house was mostly unoccupied and running on a skeleton crew, which still counted seven staff members. That apparently was minimalist in the rich world.

“How is your grandson?” I asked in between mouthfuls of buttery goodness. “Did he make the team?”

She smiled, nodding. “Yes, he did. He is ecstatic. He's the only sophomore to make varsity.”

“That’s great!” I turned to Timmy. "Maybe he’ll show Timmy how to play one day."

“Yes, of course!” We were good at pretending that Timmy's heart was not sick, that he was okay and would be able to play sports one day.

“What are your plans today? Will Young Master Beaumont behave?”

I chuckled, looking at Timmy trying to chew his giraffe. “You have to stop calling him Young Master Beaumont. He’s just Timmy! You can call him Timmy, you know.”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, Miss, I’m afraid I can’t. This young man is the Beaumont heir. There’s a certain hierarchy to preserve, Miss.”

“I just -” I looked at Timmy again, who was now looking at me curiously with his big green eyes. “Mr. Beaumont is barely here; you can call him Timmy.” It was true. Since I'd moved in, I'd seen him only briefly - a few glimpses in corridors or opened doors, but he'd never spoken another word to me. I could count the sightings of him on the fingers of one hand, not that I would complain. I could do without his animosity.

“He is always here, dear,” she said, and while her voice was amicable, her eyes contained a clear warning. He was watching me.

She removed my plate as I patted my stomach. “Your food is beyond amazing. I will be sad once I move out. My signature dish is boxed macaroni and cheese.”

She threw me a look of horror. “Oh no!” She shook her head, wiping her hands on her apron. “That won’t do. Would you like me to teach you?”

“You've just made my day!” I was bored out of my skull here. Despite the vast number of books in the library and my full-time role of looking after Timmy, I needed more to do.

“I’m going to take him for a walk in the garden, but I’ll come by after that.”

She gave him a tender smile. “He is so precious; you must feel blessed.” I saw the affection plain on her face. She cared about Timmy, deeply and genuinely, and it made me like her even more.

“I do,” I confirmed. "I would not exchange him for all the money in the world.” She didn’t even know how true that was.

I finished my glass of orange juice, put Timmy in his quilted pram suit, and laid him on the baby carrier. Then I grabbed my jacket hanging up by the kitchen door and took the staff's exit to the garden.

I shivered as I was met by a frigid gush of wind, a rude reminder that we were still in the heart of winter. The February wind was not something that my thin, overused, secondhand, fleece-lined, fake-leather jacket could really protect me against, but it was all I had.Beggars can't be choosers. That had been my motto for way too long.

Tightening my hold on Timmy, I started down the white gravel path. Timmy really enjoyed the country air.

The gardens were huge and so clinical, it was sad. Except for the perfectly manicured lawns and trees that were now leafless, there was nothing at all - no rose bushes, no flower beds. It resembled more of a golf court than a garden, and that was just a shame in my opinion. This place could be made into a real Eden for the spring and the summer.

Another gush of wind made me gasp.

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