Page 29 of A Thin Line

“I’m not hungry.”

My eyes must have given away the truth. “Are you sure about that?” Still, I nodded. When she came back to pick up the platter of pineapple, she said, “At least eat your eggs. They won’t taste very good come lunch time.” Before she walked across the room again, she whispered, “I promise I won’t tell.”

I didn’t know if I could actually believe her, but she made a good point. Everything else on the plate would be fine later. I waited a few more minutes and she came back to the table. “I’ll take your plate if you’re done with it.”

Frowning, I picked up my fork. “I’ll go ahead and eat the eggs.”

“Good.” She sat at the head of the table diagonally from me. “You’ll have to forgive Sinny. He gets grouchy when he talks to his father.”

Sinny? I couldn’t help but smile. Did he know she called him that?

And I was curious. “His father? Was that who he was talking to before breakfast?”

“Yes.”

Thinking back to the snippets of overheard conversation earlier, I tried to reconcile it with the fact that he’d been talking to his father—and it was yet another reminder of how different our two families were. Although he hadn’t been yelling, nor had he said anything contentious, his conversation didn’t sound like he’d been talking to a parent at all.

He could have been speaking with his worst enemy.

And I felt a tiny pang of…empathy. That was followed by anger, because no Whittier deserved any emotion like that from me.

Either Edna hadn’t sensed what I’d been thinking or was politely pretending she couldn’t tell, because she quickly changed the subject. “You probably already know I do most of the shopping around here—so please let me know if you need me to pick up anything for you—feminine supplies, personal care products, et cetera.”

Yikes. Even though I’d brought all those things with me, she was right. None of that would last for the eternity I’d be spending here. I’d be at her mercy.

Fortunately, Edna didn’t seem to be the type to hold it against me or to expect anything in return. For that, I said, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to get to work.”

I’d nearly finished the eggs. “What will I be doing?”

“Several things. First will be cleaning all the bathrooms on the main floor and on the second and third floors in the west wing.”

I could feel the blood drain from my face. “How many bathrooms?”

“I’m not sure. Ten to twelve—but don’t worry about that. Most of them are never used. But Mr. Whittier likes for the toilets to be flushed and everything dusted regularly in case we have guests.” Now she called him Mr. Whittier. What happened to Sinny? It was probably smart not to call him that because she didn’t know me very well.

I almost asked if I counted as a guest but I highly doubted it. Instead, I said, “How many people live here?”

She smiled, and I wondered if it was because she found this decadence as ridiculous and embarrassing as I did. “Three. Well, four if we include you.” I wondered who actually lived there but I didn’t have to ask. “There’s Mr. Whittier, of course, and you. The driver Greg and his wife live in the east wing on the third floor.”

Weird. So no other Whittiers lived here. “You don’t have a room here?”

“No. I live with my husband about five miles from here.”

I felt brave. “Why does he live in such a big house with all this room he doesn’t need?”

“This is the original Whittier mansion. He grew up here so I guess it’s like his home.” That hadn’t answered my question but I realized maybe she didn’t actually know. “Are you ready?” she asked, standing.

“Yes.”

She led me to a large room just off the kitchen full of cleaning supplies and equipment. Next to that room was a pantry. The only reason why I knew that was because it had a door with a frosted glass window that had the word PANTRY painted on the front in black letters.

Soon I had a cart filled with supplies and Edna said after I finished all the downstairs bathrooms, she’d show me the dumbwaiter so I wouldn’t have to make multiple trips—and then she’d show me where to find all the other bathrooms.

I was still shocked by how big this place was—and, soon, I at least had an idea of the scale after having walked from the west end to the east and back. Edna showed me where I would find four different bathrooms on the main level and then left me to it. I started in the west wing down the long hallway.

So far, Edna had been right about one thing—the bathroom wasn’t very messy. Still, I didn’t trust Whittier one bit, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d planted a hair or tiny piece of paper in every bathroom in weird spots, and if I missed anything, he’d make me do it again as promised. So, even though I was mostly cleaning surfaces that were already clean, I relaxed a little knowing I didn’t have to deal with any disgusting messes.

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