Page 63 of Singing For His Kiss

Knowing what that look meant, Elizabeth disappeared into the kitchen. She clung to Madeline as much as the child clung to her. She rested her back against the door, dragging in deep breaths to settle the jealousy scratching at her nerves.

“Cara, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Elizabeth smiled weakly at the Italian housekeeper. “Just the truth,” she murmured. Then at Mrs. D’llessio’s confusion, she plastered a smile on her numb lips. “We’ve come to help you prepare for the party. Tell me what you need me to do.”

“I see you’ve met her,” Mrs. D’llessio said.

“You know Anastasia?” Elizabeth asked. Absently, she poured Madeline a glass of milk and gave her a biscuit. The little girl sat happily at the bench, her odd behaviour gone. Elizabeth frowned but gave her attention to the cook.

Mrs. D’llessio put a pained expression on her face. “I tell you what this afternoon will be. My tea too hot. My scones too large. The cream too sweet.” She muttered to herself in staccato Italian as she plonked the dishes into the sink. “Why she come so early, I don’t know, but for sure it is not a good thing.” Elizabeth stared at Mrs. D’llessio as she industriously washed the dishes. “It is the same every time. Pick, pick, pick.” Maria faced Elizabeth. “And I am a good cook. There is nothing to pick about, no?”

“You are one of the best cooks I know.” It was the truth.

“I swear, if she picked up a spoon and cooked for herself, she’d know the meaning of cold tea, heavy scones and unthickened cream. She has never lifted a finger to do her own chores in her life. It is about time she learned.”

“Never?”

“Bah. Never. She was born into money. She’s had housemaids for this, cleaners for that. She probably doesn’t know how to turn on a vacuum cleaner.”

“No wonder she looks so nice.” Elizabeth thought of the clothes she wore that probably cost as much as she earned in a month. Six months! She could only dream of wearing clothes like that. Of looking as glamorous as that.

“You think she look nice?”

Surprised, Elizabeth looked at Mrs. D’llessio and nodded.

“No. She does not. She is fake. Fake hair, fake eyebrows, fake lips, fake boobs. She has the Botox, the plastic surgeries. She doesn’t look nice. She is a jar of pickles.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Pickles?”

“Preserved, yes? She is well-preserved. Like the pickles.”

Elizabeth chewed her bottom lip, trying to keep from chuckling. Looking at Anastasia, a jar of pickles never crossed her mind.

“If you want to see true beauty, look at yourself, Cara. Anastasia can only be attractive on the outside. And that is with the help of many talented people. You are worth ten of her. Don’t you ever forget that!”

Maria was being kind, that was all. If she knew the truth about her, there was no way she’d be saying them. But still, she appreciated the thought. It was nice to hear words like those.

“You are bootful, Liz’beth.”

Elizabeth had to blink the tears back. She bundled Madeline in her arms and hugged her close, relishing the feel of the child. She was going to miss doing this. I

“And you are beautiful too, Madeline.”

“Yes. I am.” Madeline’s solemn little face looked up at her, and Elizabeth fell into her large blue eyes. Madeline looked at her with such faith, hope and innocence. She loved this little girl with all her heart. She wished she could have more time with her, see her every day, go horse riding again. But that couldn’t be.

“Mr. James. He think you beautiful, too,” Mrs. D’llessio said.

“Daddy told me, so it’s the trooth,” Madeline said.

“When did your daddy say that?” she asked, despite herself.

“When I went into the ocean. He said you were a bootiful person that came to rescue both of us. That’s what he said,” Madeline said with a decisive nod.

“Well…yes…that was…a very nice thing to…to say.” Her voice sounded strangled. She threaded her fingers through Madeline’s soft, wavy hair and cleared her throat. How she loved this child. How hard it was to leave her. She had to do one last thing, spend those last few minutes giving her something special. “I tell you what, let’s get out your favourite dress, and I’ll braid your hair for the party. How does that sound?”

Madeline’s eyes shone with excitement. “Can I look like a fairy?”

“Of course you can. The prettiest little fairy in the world.”

She was being selfish, she knew. It would only take a half hour or so. Then she’d go to the police and let her world fall apart.

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