Page 22 of The Maid's Secret

Juan’s mouth falls open.

“I hadn’t considered that,” I say.

“Remember—not everyone is a good egg,” Gran-dad adds.

“There’s a safe in my office,” Mr.Snow replies. “Shall I place the egg in there for safekeeping?”

“Who else knows about this safe?” Brown asks.

“No one but me,” Mr.Snow responds as he straightens his cravat.

“Until now,” Angela replies under her breath.

“We’re off,” I say to Brown and Beagle. “Thank you for the appraisal,” I add, curtsying before I leave.

Mr.Snow opens the greenroom door, and I follow him out, with Juan by my side and Mr.Preston and Angela behind us. The second we’re in the corridor, we’re accosted.

“Look, it’s her!”

“Molly the Maid! Can I get a photo?”

“Where is it, Molly? Where’s the egg?”

In an instant, I’m surrounded by a crowd of hotel guests, Bee-lievers, and miscellaneous looky-loos.

“Step back!” Mr.Preston demands.

“Give her space,” Mr.Snow orders as he blazes a trail through the masses.

“Molly, you’re becoming a celebrity—fast,” Angela says.

“Everyone wants a piece of you,” Juan adds as he puts a protective arm around me.

“There’s no need for fuss,” I call to the crowd as I pass. “I’m just a maid!”

Everyone bursts into a confusing round of applause.

Angela and Mr.Preston head back to the tearoom while Mr.Snow and Juan guide me to the front lobby. The crowds here are thinner,and we have a bit more space to breathe as we stand by the stairs to the basement.

“This is so strange,” Juan says. “Molly, I don’t want to leave you.”

“We’ll talk everything through tonight. For now, we’ve got jobs to do,” I say.

“If you insist,” Juan replies.

“Don’t worry,” Mr.Snow counters. “I’ll make sure she gets upstairs safely. I’m sure all the fuss will die down momentarily.”

Juan grabs both of my hands. “Mi amor,you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Of course,” I say with a confidence I don’t quite feel.

“That’s my Molly,” he replies with a smile, then he starts down the stairs and disappears from sight.

“I’ll escort you to the elevator,” says Mr.Snow. We make our way to the lift relatively unencumbered, but as he presses the button, guests stare at me, exchanging whispers behind cupped hands. For the first time in a long time, I feel exposed rather than invisible. Every eye in the hotel is trained on me.

Ding—the elevator arrives. The guests part and allow me to step on alone, something that never happens. When I arrive on the third floor, I find Lily, one of our best maids, and Cheryl, one of our worst, cleaning rooms together. I often pair responsible Lily with problematic Cheryl, since Cheryl can’t be trusted to get any work done by herself.

I grab a dustcloth from the trolley outside of Room 403, then join Lily and Cheryl inside. They’re putting fresh sheets on a king-size bed, but Cheryl isn’t paying attention. Instead, she’s watching the TV, which is blastingChatter Box,an entertainment news show.

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