Chapter 6

[Cordelia]

I was surprised this morning by breakfast in bed and a cheery smile.

“Good morning, Madam,” April is in her full maid uniform today, including her nice dress and apron, even her hair styled in a neat little bun. “If it pleases you I have brought you breakfast.”

If it pleases me? Something isn’t quite right about her today.

“Th…ank you,” I say hesitantly. “Are we expecting company?” Maybe that is why she is dressed so fine and practicing her manners. “A foreign dignitary, perhaps? The President?”

“No, Madam. It is just the two of us today.” A large smile stretches across her face as she glances out the window into the garden. “It is a beautiful day. I hear it is good to get a little exercise as you recover from being ill. When you are done with breakfast, might I suggest a walk in the garden?”

“I’m not sure it is a good idea,” I say honestly. Even though I am feeling so much better with more energy, there is something about April’s behavior that is making me nervous. She’s been cruel to me for the last 5 years. I don’t trust this sudden kindness,

April bows her head, her hands folded in front of her contritely. “Madam, it is Master Atlas’ wish that I take better care of you and treat you with the consideration you deserve, as Lady of the house,” she keeps her face pointed down as she adds. “Please allow me to do my job.

Startled, my hand flutters to my chest, resting above my heart, my body overwhelmed with a sudden rush of warmth. Atlas cares about how I’ve been treated enough to scold April, his childhood nanny.

Is it possible that he might actually…care?

I nod my head in acquiescence and eat the rest of my breakfast in silence. Despite my distrust of April’s motives, the fresh air does feel good and the garden is indeed beautiful today.

What was that?

A flash of bright color blinks between the trees. As it becomes more clear, I see that it is a beautiful woman, her hair pulled up professionally wearing a bright pink dress and jacket. In her hand is the handle of a large suitcase, like the kind you might take on a long vacation.

She is marching towards the front door like a woman on a mission. It takes a moment for her face to come into focus, but then I realize exactly who she is: Sydney, Atlas’ secretary. The pretty blond who looks like my sister.

But why is she here at my house? With a suitcase?

I don’t know why, but a sense of panic overtakes me. Feeling a sudden rush of energy, I chase after her, leaving April behind and rushing to meet her at the door. I arrive just as her hand hovers over the doorbell.

“Excuse me, why are you here?” I ask, my tone hard and cold. “What are you doing here, at my house?”

She takes a step back, her eyes wide and innocent. “Atlas said I should come.” She blinks her long lashes at me and I feel a rush of heat at her casual use of my husband’s name, reminding me how familiar the two of them had been in the cafe.

A flood of scenarios flash behind my eyes, none of them good. He wouldn’t dare to bring his mistress into our house. He wouldn’t be that disrespectful…would he?

“With a suitcase? A large suitcase?” I continue to interrogate her, my arms folded across my chest, blocking her entry. I look around. April is missing. I wonder where she ran off to.

I turn my attention back to the blond on my doorstep. “Why would he send you?” my eyes narrow suspiciously.

Noticing my discomfort, her smile brightens. “He wanted me to come. And I,” she blushes prettily, looking to the side to avoid my eyes as she adds. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”

My heart stops beating in my chest. Her words are kind, her manner sweet, but something is sparkling in her eyes that I do not trust. There is no way I am letting her past the front door.

“I don’t believe you. Leave the suitcase here and I will ask my husband personally when he returns.” I reach forward to grab the handle of the suitcase.

She refuses to comply and we spend the next 15 minutes discussing whether or not it is proper for her to be alone at my husband’s house with a suitcase. Neither one of us is willing to let go, both of us refusing to budge.

Something over her shoulder catches her eye for a moment, she turns back to me, her smile returning, and shouts in her loudest voice, projecting as if she were on stage. “I don’t know why you are being so mean to me! I’m just trying to do my job!”

She yanks the handle and I begin to stumble forward. I pull back in an attempt to regain my footing, my hand still on the handle.

But then something weird happens. She releases the handle. I take a shaky step back as she falls hard to the side, stumbling backward, landing hard.

“OW!” she whines loudly, rubbing her hip. “Why did you push me!”

A set of footsteps crashes down the walk and I look over to see Atlas as he rushes to her aid. Kneeling beside her he checks to see if she is injured. Outside of a run in her stocking, she looks perfectly fine but he still scowls up at me.

“Cordelia!” he growls, “What did you do? Why did you push Sydney?”

Push her? What? “I didn’t push her, she fell on her own!”

“Do you expect me to believe that?” he scoffs indignantly. “I saw what happened. You can’t lie to me.”

“Oh, it’s not her fault,” Sydney’s tone is all forgiveness as she leans heavily on his arm while he helps her stand. “I just have weak ankles.”

Atlas turns on me. “I knew you were selfish, but I realize were vindictive.” He scolds. “Adults settle their arguments without resorting to violence.”

“I didn’t touch her!” I insist, taking a step towards him, standing my ground. “She’s been arguing with me insisting she was invited to be here.”

Atlas looks between us for a long moment, and then turns towards me, his face twisted into a sneer. “She isn’t lying. I did tell her to come here.”

I take a step back, startled.

He takes the suitcase handle out of my hands as he adds. “She’s staying the night. It’s too late for her to return home.”