Page 50 of A Thin Line

When I got to the kitchen, Edna had two glasses of iced tea on a tray setting on the cart she used to serve food from the kitchen to the dining room. Also on the tray was a sugar bowl, a container of sweetener packets, a saucer of lemon wedges, and two long spoons. “That was fast.”

I felt relieved that she thought so. “There weren’t too many I had to test. It was this one,” I said, showing her the key that had worked. “I just need to remember to not close the lock so I don’t have to borrow the keys again.”

“Well, it would be no trouble if you did.” She took the keys from me and set them on the cart. “I thought we’d go out to the east patio to take our break. We won’t have the sun beating down on us and usually this time of day, we get a nice breeze moving through there.”

That explained the cart. “Would you like me to push that?”

“Thank you for offering but that’s all right.”

We headed out of the kitchen into the main hallway and began heading east. When we reached the junction of the back east hallway to the main, Edna stopped the cart, taking the ring of keys and walking to Sinclair’s office. Although I wanted to step backwards or walk down the hall a little to reaffirm where she stored the keys, I thought it better not to.

Soon we were heading back down the main hall toward the east patio. I asked, “How does the mansion stay so clean? Downstairs is dusty—all kinds of dust bunnies and a few cobwebs, but when I cleaned the bathrooms, they were already spotless. Do you do all that, Edna?”

She chuckled. “Heavens, no. I’m responsible for the kitchen, as well as scheduling any sort of repairs or maintenance. I take care of meals and shopping. I don’t even clean the dining room or beverage nook, aside from the dishes, of course, and wiping off the tables, chairs, and bar when needed. There are two sisters who come once a week on Mondays except for holidays. There are specific areas they clean every time they’re here and they have a rotating schedule to make sure they clean every spot in the mansion once every three months.”

As we stopped at the door leading outside, I couldn’t resist—because I already knew they didn’t clean every spot. For instance, they didn’t touch the dungeon, as Sinclair called it. “Even the second floor of the east wing?”

“Well, no.” She picked up the tray and asked, “Would you get the door, please?”

I did so, holding it open until Edna made it outside. The air was quite warm, but it felt good after being inside in the almost too cool artificial breeze circulating through the mansion. Downstairs where I worked didn’t have AC but instead of feeling hot down there, it felt bearable, even when I did work up a sweat moving around large objects.

After she set the tray on the oval table, she said, “They also don’t clean the three rooms the Johnsons use on the third floor. And, of course, the dungeon. But they are responsible for everything else.” When I sat down, Edna handed me a glass and said, “It’s tasty by itself, but I love lemon and sugar with mine. Help yourself.”

The ice cubes were already melting and a light condensation had formed on the glass. I took a sip, appreciating the clean, fresh flavor of the tea but deciding I wouldn’t mind if it was a little sweet too. While we adjusted our drinks to our taste, I said, “I’m still amazed that they can keep it so clean, especially just one day a week.”

“Sometimes they’ll work twelve hours on that day—but they’re quite efficient, the main reason Mr. Whittier has never hired anyone else, even though they raise their rates every year.”

That they came on Mondays explained why the bathrooms were pristine when I recleaned them a day later.

“They seem to be good at their jobs.”

“Oh, they are. I imagine Mr. Whittier will have them change your linens like they do his—sheets, towels, that sort of thing. Unless, of course, you’d rather do that on your own.”

As much as I hated to admit it, having them do it for me made me feel a little spoiled. I hadn’t been waited on like that since childhood. Not having to make the bed, clean the bathroom, or cook was strange but nice in a way. Odd, because I was working for Sinclair too. “I’m okay with them doing that. But I did wonder where and when I can wash my dirty laundry.”

“Good question. The laundry room is on the side of the back west hallway that the kitchen is, but at the very end, by the door to the garages.”

I knew then that that was why that door was closed. It was all about appearances. I imagined people entered through the grand front doors and into the antechamber and down the main hall—all breathtaking. Seeing a washer and dryer might take away from that illusion of grandeur.

“Thank you.”

“Yes, and there’s detergent, softener, bleach, starch, stain remover, an iron and ironing board—just about anything you might need, but do let me know if you need something specific.”

“I will.” I took a sip of tea. “This is delicious.”

“Thank you. It definitely hits the spot.” She adjusted in her chair so she had a better view of the street, even though it was somewhat shrouded by the trees and shrubbery. “It’s nice being able to enjoy a drink or a small meal with someone.”

“It is.”

“I enjoy my job. I’ve loved Sinny ever since he was a baby, and I’d do anything for him—but this job gets quite lonely. I relish the moments when Henry’s here to do the gardening, because he’ll stop in for a few minutes to chat. Every once in a while I can get him to sit, but it’s rare. I hardly ever see Greg and his wife—and the cleaning sisters keep to themselves. They report in and report out. If we have any conversation, it’s usually about a maintenance issue.”

“I hadn’t stopped to think about that.” I’d often relished my moments alone, especially after being tormented in school all day. Attending college hadn’t been as bad, but even it was exhausting in terms of dealing with people. I would run home to escape, but Edna desired the opposite.

Leaning over, she patted me on the shoulder. “Let’s just say I’m very glad you’re here.”

I wasn’t—although I hated it less today than I had the night I’d arrived—but it seemed like a nice thing to say in return. “Me too.”

Chapter 18

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