housekeeper

7. To the supermarket.

(Vanessa)

As the week went by, I found myself adapting to the routine of cooking for Dave. He seems to have a knack for calling at just the right times—when I'm not scheduled to cook for him. Moreover, he's stopped intruding on my personal space at home. I believe my conversation with Linda made a difference; she confirmed that his behaviour was indeed unprofessional.

Dave had arranged for me to start work later this Friday. He mentioned an early meeting with the French firm, the same one we discussed previously during our shared meal.

I walk towards the villa and push open the front door. A box brimming with papers sits on the living room table. As I step into the kitchen, I see Dave perched at the kitchen island, cradling a cup of coffee and staring intently at his laptop screen.

"Good morning, Dave," I greet him with a bright smile.

"Good morning, Vanessa," he replies, not looking up from his laptop.

"May I start in the living room? Is the box on the table for the paper, and are there any areas I shouldn't clean today?"

After some thought, Dave decides, "The box belongs in my office, or maybe next to the front door. Just steer clear of the office and my gym for today; I think that covers everything."

"What would you like for dinner tonight?"

"Surprise me," he says, distractedly.

"Alright, but no complaints if it's not to your liking," I reply with a slight smile. Dave diverts his gaze from his laptop and meets my eyes. "Vanessa, you know what I don't like. As long as you adhere to that list, I'm fine with it."

"May I add something to that list?"

"What would that be?" he inquires, gazing into my eyes with curiosity for an answer.

"Skimmed milk," I reply, eyebrows raised and a broad smile on my face. He laughs and points at me, saying, "I have a feeling I'll be hearing about that for quite some time, won't I?"

"You're quite the thinker," Dave remarks, giving me a long look before exhaling deeply. "I'll be at my office if you need anything. I'm dealing with issues from this morning's meeting. They're supposed to call back shortly. I was hoping for a different outcome." With that, Dave exits the kitchen, and I retrieve my supplies from the storage room.

I meander through the living room, clutching the rag doll, techno music pulsing through my earphones as I sway to the rhythm. Spinning around, I inadvertently collide with a bemused Dave. Removing one earphone, I offer a quick apology. "Sorry, Dave, I didn't see you there."

Dave chuckles, his amusement evident as he touches his lower lip with his index finger, thumb resting on his chin, seemingly in appreciation.

A flush of embarrassment warms my cheeks.

"Just wanted to let you know I'll grab a coffee and then get in a quick workout. You have a graceful way about you, especially with your hair bouncing around like that."

We exchange smiles once more before he heads to the kitchen for his coffee. I hold off on reinserting my second earphone until I hear him ascend the stairs.

(Dave)

I've had a challenging morning. Those investors believe they can do anything they want. I've cautioned them against flaunting their wealth, especially now that their shares have declined by one percent. They hold their opinions, and I hold mine; all I can do is warn them. Later, one investor who agrees with me calls to discuss a plan that benefits them exclusively. My responsibility ends there; if they don't heed my advice, they risk losing their consultant. I have plenty of companies in my charge. I catch up on the latest news and sip my now tepid coffee. At that moment, Vanessa enters. We engage in small talk, and quickly, the conversation turns to dinner plans and my preferences for the evening meal. I treasure these brief interactions with her and let out a sigh as I contemplate the upcoming call with the company.