Secret Indiscretions (Sue Thomas FBEye)

Intro

How long had Manuela been their maid, Philip mused, as he led her to his private den. Almost twenty years, he counted, his youngest son being only a toddler when she joined the household. She was young, pregnant and desperate. He suspected she was also an illegal immigrant, even though her English was adequate. He and his wife gave her and her unborn child a roof, three meals a day and fair wages for her services. In return they gained her unconditional loyalty.

"Have a seat, Manuela." He indicated the leather chair across from his desk while he comfortably leaned in his own. "What can I do for you?"

The formal request to talk to him had come as a surprise.

"If you don't mind, señor, I... I will stand." She nervously fidgeted from one leg to the other while avoiding his cold gaze. "It's about Carmella."

Her daughter's name was spoken ever so softly. He sighed, intertwining his fingers while he rubbed his thumbs together.

"Did my wife's sister make a mess of the guesthouse again?"

He couldn't wait to get rid of her, but so far he'd failed to find a reasonable excuse to kick the unwelcome guest out without totally alienating his wife.

"Yes... no... I mean, señora Margaret's behaviour isn't a problem," she quickly clarified.

"We both know my sister-in-law's behaviour, as you so diplomatically put it, is indeed a problem." His lips curled up ever so slightly. "Is she harassing Carmella?" he asked bluntly, priding himself on treating his employees fairly.

He knew a hard-working maid was a rare commodity, painfully finding out after hiring and firing many over the years. Carmella was young, resourceful and just as conscientious as her mother. And helping during the weekends and the summer was a perfect way for the young woman to work out the interest-free loan he'd granted her for college.

"It's nothing she cannot handle," Manuela insisted. Her daughter was skilled at blocking the acerbic remark sputtered in her direction by the drunken female guest. If only Carmella could have been as successful in deflecting the attention of the master's son, mused her mother. "It's... delicate."

"I'm listening, Manuela, but I would appreciate if you stopped beating around the bushes," he pointed out.

"I'm sorry, señor." She took a deep breath. "See, Carmella is... is expecting," she blurted out.

He raised his brow, waiting for a lengthier explanation. Was the young woman expecting a raise? A holiday? A visitor?