Page 33 of The Maid's Secret

“That’s enough!” I shout, which gets everyone’s attention. “We’ve got a dirty hotel to clean, and no time for bickering. Get uniformed and get to work, posthaste. Cheryl, if I hear so much as a whisper from any of these maids about you slacking off today, I will file a report to Mr.Snow that’s so damning, you may regret the day you gained employment here. Do you understand?”

Her mouth puckers like she’s just sucked a lemon.

“Let’s all head upstairs and polish to perfection,” I say.

—

On the third floor, Lily and I tackle guest rooms together. I saddled Sunshine and Sunitha with Cheryl, since they’ll throttle her if she dares step out of line. Today, Lily’s more silent than usual.

At one minute to ten, she asks, “Should I turn on the TV?Hidden Treasuresis about to air.”

“I lived it yesterday,” I say. “I’m not keen to relive it again today.”

Lily nods and we continue cleaning in silence. But after we finish six rooms in record time, Lily remains strangely distant. “Are you all right?” I ask as she rips soiled sheets off another bed.

She pauses. “I’m just tired of the Cheryls in the world. Every time a good thing happens—like you learning you’re about to become rich—there’s a Cheryl who sours everything.”

I grab some fresh sheets from Lily’s trolley and smooth them onto the bed. “My gran used to say, ‘Keep good eggs close and bad ones even closer.’ ”

“You think keeping Cheryl close means we’ll rub off on her one day?” Lily asks.

“I live in hope,” I reply.

Just as we’ve finished the room and are about to leave, some guests buzz in. It’s an elderly couple sporting Bee-liever pins on their lapels.

“We were just leaving,” I say. “Your room is polished to perfection.”

“You’re Molly,” the man replies. “Molly the Maid.”

“We just saw you on TV,” says the woman.

“There’s no need for fanfare,” I reply. “I’m just a maid, a regular person like both of you.”

“We could tell that by watching,” says the man. “Usually good things happen to the wrong people, but not this time,” he says. A smile breaks across his face that is so genuine, it makes me smile, too.

“My husband’s a detectorist,” the woman explains. “We came all the way from the countryside yesterday to share his finds with the Bees.”

“I thought I had a Viking burial hoard,” says the man, “but I didn’t.”

“Costume jewelry,” his wife explains. “Circa 1960, buried in our backyard.”

“You win some, you lose some,” says the man with a shrug.

“You must be disappointed,” I say.

“Not in the least!” the woman replies. “And we have you to thank for that.”

“Me?” I say. “How so?”

“You proved the little people actually win sometimes,” the man says. “To see a hardworking maid hitting the jackpot—it was incredible. You’re a beacon of hope, Miss Molly, that’s what you are.”

“Also, we made the b-roll,” says the man’s wife. “We were on TV just now! Our grandkids are thrilled, and our neighbors are throwing us a party at the pub tonight. We’re checking out right away and heading home.”

I stare at the elderly couple, trying to grasp what it is they’re telling me. From my maid’s trolley, I grab a handful of turn-down chocolates. “Take these for the road,” I say.

“Really?” the man asks as he holds out his hands. “Thank you.”

“Do you want some soap?” Lily asks the woman. “As a souvenir of your stay?”

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