The Housekeeper

Chapter 2

     The oven's timer rang, but the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni had already alerted me that dinner was finally ready. I had just begun to cut the pizza when I heard Ethan walk through the door. He came up from behind me and kissed my cheek. I blushed.

   "So, the toilet was that bad, huh?" He chuckled. I grabbed a fallen pepperoni and popped it in my mouth.

 "They must've started taking fiber this week. It's okay, I got paid extra." I smiled sarcastically as I leaned against the counter, Ethan doing the same.

 "Really?" Ethan mumbled excitedly as he chewed. I sighed as I grabbed a piece myself, preferring to stare at it than my husband's hopeful face. Bad joke, Danielle. 

 "No, actually, I had a really bad day today. I don't want to get too much into the details, but Mrs. Lewis decided to cut my pay in half this week, and possibly again next week if I don't 'get my act together'. I wasn't able to get everything we needed on the grocery list. I am so sorry hon, this is my fault." I choke back tears and again, keep my eyes trained downward so I don't have to see Ethan's face. There was a long pause before he responded, but he reassuringly rubbed my shoulders.

 "We won't go hungry, Danielle. It's not your fault, I know how hard you work for our family. Mrs. Lewis is a miserable housewife who has nothing better to do but make everyone else feel as awful as she does. I know we are tight on funds, but I think it might be better if you let her go. I hate how often she makes you feel like this." He gives me a sincere hug, and I wanted to cry again. My sweet, sweet husband always saves the day. 

  I shake my head though, "Ethan, you know we can't afford that. There's no one else with that kind of money around here, and the only other place that's hiring is the gas station. It's hard, but I just have to power through and really bring it next week. I promise, I'll fix this." I plead. He pauses again before answering, and I notice he takes a quick glance at the pile of bills we have accumulating on our kitchen counter.

  "This isn't your responsibility alone to bear. I just started at the post office, and it sounds like I might be getting a raise already. It's still not going to be much, but every cent helps. It'll all work itself out. I just hate seeing you like this, and I wish I could fix it and make everything better. I'm sorry I'm not exactly providing the life we had hoped for." This time, Ethan's the one choking back tears. I wrap him in a tight, intimate embrace, and we stand in silence for what feels like hours. I can feel our heartbeats sync, and somehow, a long hug makes everything better. We eventually let go, and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

 "Let's go to bed, we'll start fresh tomorrow and put this dreadful day behind us." Ethan yawns, making his way to our room.

 "I'm gonna stay up a bit longer, maybe read a little bit." He smiles softly at me before nodding, and closing the bedroom door behind him. I exhale deeply as I go to our modest bookcase, trying to pick a book I haven't read over ten times. I finally decide on a classic, Pride and Prejudice, knowing I have in fact read this book over ten times. It has started to become a comfort book of mine. I get back up and turn the kettle on to make myself some tea. As I peruse our tea options, my phone starts to ring. I frown as I check my watch, 10:48 pm. That's weird. Who could be calling at this hour? Probably telemarketer's or the debt collections agency again. I roll my eyes and answer the call anyway.

  "Hello?" 

  "Hi, is this Danielle Morris?" A male voice asks.

  "Yes, this is she." I respond curiously.

  "Ah yes, this is Peter Long. I apologize for calling at such a late hour, but I have recently converted an old house here in town into an Airbnb. Tourists love small towns that aren't too far away from the city. I'm on the hunt for a good housekeeper, and I just came across your ad listing online. I had to reach out immediately and offer you the position. You had great reviews, and I would pay substantially. Lord knows how badly some guests trash the place, so it wouldn't be easy work. Does $400 work per turnover?"

 I gasp, my mind running a mile a minute. 

 "In per turnover, you mean no matter if it's barely dirty, I'd make that much?" I gulp, unable to believe what I'm hearing. 

  "Yes ma'am. I know it's not as much as you would probably like, but the point is to attract guests to our location as it starts out. As it gets more bookings, I will raise the price accordingly. Does that sound fair?" Peter asks with an accent I can only assume means he's from California. Even his voice sounds rich.

 "So, let's say there's two or three turnovers per week. Does that mean I'd make-"

 "Yes, that is what per turnover means, Mrs. Morris. You could be making double that or maybe even get into the thousands." Peter sounds slightly amused. My eyes widen. We've never made that kind of money before. I eye the stack of bills on the counter.

 "I would absolutely be interested in the position. When can I start?" I resist the urge to start jumping up and down. Could this be too good to be true? Is this a sick prank some teenager decided to pull on us?

 "We already have a booking for next Tuesday to a Tuesday, a week's stay. So it would be ideal if you came next Tuesday after checkout time, so around nine in the morning. I'd love to meet you over coffee and go over a couple details first. Would tomorrow work for you?"

 "Tomorrow sounds perfect. I can't thank you enough, Mr. Long. I think you're an answer to our prayers." I beam. He has no idea how perfect his timing is. I'm really glad I actually picked up the phone this time.

  "No please, consider me just as grateful. It's so hard to find competent help in a town with a small pool of options. I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Morris. Goodnight, now." Peter closes.

  "Goodnight, I'll see you then." I drop my tea bag into my hot water, and I do indeed find myself jumping up and down.