Page 53 of The Housemaid
Of course, it’s not really her home. Andrew owns the house. And if they weren’t married, she couldn’t live here. If he decided to choose me over her, this would bemyhouse.
These thoughts are insane. Obviously, that isn’t going to happen.
“I’m sorry.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “What areyoudoing here?”
“I…I came down to get a glass of water.”
“Don’t you have water in your room?”
“I drank it all,” I lie. And I’m sure she knows it’s a lie, considering she snoops in my room.
She’s silent for a moment. “Andy wasn’t in bed. Did you see him downstairs anywhere?”
“I, uh…I think he was out on the back porch.”
“I see.”
“But I’m not sure. I didn’t talk to him or anything.”
Nina gives me a look like she doesn’t believe one word I’m saying. Which is fair enough, since it’s all lies. “I’ll go check on him.”
“And I’ll head up to my room.”
She nods and pushes past me, jostling my shoulder. My heart is pounding. I can’t push away the feeling that I’ve made a terrible mistake crossing Nina Winchester. Yet I can’t seem to stop myself.
THIRTY-THREE
I have Sunday off, so I spend the day out of the house. It’s a beautiful summer day—not too hot and not too cool—so I drive over to the local park and sit on a bench and read my book. When you’re in prison, you forget those simple pleasures. Just going outside and reading at the park. Sometimes you want it so bad, it’s physically painful.
I’m never going back there. Never.
I grab a bite to eat at a fast-food drive-through, then I drive back to the house. The Winchester estate is really beautiful. Even though I’m starting to despise Nina, I can’t hate that house. It’s a beautiful house.
I park on the street like always and walk up to the front door of the house. The sky has been darkening during my entire drive home, and just as I get to the door, the clouds break open and droplets of rain cascade out of the sky. I wrench the door open and slip inside before I get drenched.
When I get into the living room, Nina is sitting on the sofa in semi-darkness. She’s not doing anything there. She’s not reading, she’s not watching TV. She’s just sitting there. And when I open the door, her eyes snap to attention.
“Nina?” I say. “Everything okay?”
“Not really.” She glances over at the other end of the sofa, and now I notice she’s got a stack of clothing next to her. It’s the same clothing that she insisted I take from her when I first started working here. “What ismyclothing doing in your room?”
I stare at her as a flash of lightning brightens the room. “What? What are you talking about? You gave me those clothes.”
“I gave them to you!” She lets out a barking laugh that echoes through the room, only partially drowned out by the crack of thunder. “Why would I give mymaidclothing worth thousands of dollars?”
“You”—my legs tremble beneath me—“you said they were too small on you. You insisted that I take them.”
“How could you lie like that?” She takes a step toward me, her blue eyes like ice. “You stole my clothing! You’re a thief!”
“No…” I reach out for something before my legs give out under me. But I grasp only air. “I would never do that.”
“Ha!” She snorts. “That’s what I get for trusting a convict to work in my home!”
She’s loud enough that Andrew hears the commotion. He dashes out of his office and I see his handsome face at the top of the stairs, lit by another bolt of lightning. Oh God, what is he going to think of me? It’s bad enough that he knows about my prison record. I don’t want him to think I stole from his own house.
“Nina?” He takes the stairs down two at a time. “What’s going on here?”
