Chapter eight

Madeline stared at the little girl on the bed. Her curls that ought to have been silly, like in movies, or books, had lost their silk and looked like the aftermath of a dogfight. Her lips were slightly pouted and a little drool escaped the little hole from the pouted lips. She kept wondering what she could do with Mariam.

What kind of breakfast did she eat? How does she shower? She had only ever taken care of less privileged kids before. The little girl on the bed however had hair products that cost half of what her orphanage needed. It was in this moment of weakness that her mind began to wander.

Would they know if one of Miriam's shampoos got missing? It's not like she didn't have more.

No, Maddie. No. You're more than this.

A tear she didn't know nestled in her eyelids slid from her left eye down her face. How did these thoughts creep into her subconscious? This wasn't the Maddie she knew.

She wiped her tear furtively and walked over to Miriam's mirror.

"So, where do I begin?"

***

"Well, the kitchen does not smell nice this morning," Charles noted as he walked in through the kitchen back door. He put down the shears he had in his hand on the kitchen counter, but quickly took them off when he remembered Àna would shoot him a deadly glare. In that same split second, he remembered Anna was not there to glare at him. That if she had been there, food would have been ready.

"When can I expect it? I'm kind of in a hurry." Charles heard the bass bellow from somewhere around the stairs. The bass was unmistakable, and if he was right, the bass was ordering food. A small smile made its way to the corner of his lips. Who knew Robinson could have been this humbled?

Then he heard the voice no more.

Well, since he wasn't sure of his cooking skills anymore, he was definitely sure of his drinking skills, so he went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of chilled pineapple juice. While he chugged down the juice, he looked out the kitchen window, admiring the flowers he'd just finished trimming. Gardening was something he liked to do to take his mind off things. But then, his mind flew back to her.

So much for taking mind off things.

He rinsed his glass cup and placed it upside down on the counter to dry. He climbed upstairs to get his phone. He needed to order something too; he wasn't bigger than the man who ordered a takeout because he missed his old housekeeper. Speaking of which, was his phone safe since there was a new housekeeper?

"Are you for real? You're sold out already?" Charles could hear Robinson at it again as he advanced towards the room he'd been allotted. The guest room. "It's just 9 AM!"

8:47, Robinson, calm down.

"No— You told me I would be receiving the food in fifteen minutes! Why else did you think I ordered takeout that takes only a fifteen minute drive to my residence? Do you take me for a foo—"

The phone forcefully separating itself from his grip made Robinson doing around, ready to bolt the intruder with enough insults to make him or her never make that same mistake. The person standing in front of him, however, shut him off..

"I'm sorry for his... behavior, it's just that he misses his housekeeper. My sincere apolo-"

"Hand me back that phone!" Robinson tried snatching it back but Charles slapped his hand away.

"My sincere apologies. Thank you. Have a great day. He'll never try this again." Charles said and hung up.

"I don't miss Àna, punk. And who are you to do that to me?"

"Your trusted sidekick."

"Pest."

"Why don't you fire her already? We can begin search for another one immediately. You know we can."

"Whoa, Charles, calm down. She's just two hours into her job. It's her first slip up, and I don't fire people on their first slip ups. I fire them on their second."

"I was going to thank the good Lord that he blessed you with a heart, but the last uh, I-fire-them-on-their-second— that's six words." Charles said, counting on his fingers. "So yeah, your last six sentences have proven to me once again, that you sold your heart in the black market. I just wonder how you're still alive, and breathing. What even pumps blood for you?"

"I stole your heart while you were sleeping."

"Ew."

"Yeah, I just realised how that sounded." Robinson breathed out in fits of laughter.

"C'mon, let's go see if we can burn the house down while trying to make toast. We've got time."

***

In her reasons why, this was her third reason to quit this job. This screamed crazy. Who got someone fired on their second slip up? The water in the bucket sloshed when the mop dived in angrily. A part of Madeline told her he was joking, but the more rational part said the one who nearly made her get crushed by a car, offered no apologies, proceeded to insult her even after the drama — and now pretended like that day did not exist while waiting for her second slip—

"Hey!"

Madeline whipped around, staring at him directly in the eyes. She tried to mask her shock and shove it down the back of her mind. She didn't like being an open book. Just as they both were emotionless, she'd love to be so, too. "How can I help you, sir?"

"You could get fired for zoning out, you know. I may want to keep an important information my brain is likely to filter out in yours, and you zoning out will make me lose that information, and lose my cool." A small smirk crept up his cheeks.

"I love how a little smirk darkens that face of yours. Who are you to tell me what to do when you're not my boss, Mr Charles?"

"You're being insolent, my darling Madeline. You could get fired for talking to the boss's right hand man this way." If Charles was shocked that she knew his name, he did not show it.

Madeline was well on her way to sending this man to hell but she managed to keep her cool. She put on a forced smile and went back to mopping the floors . Next stop, the chimney.

"Mom!"

"Madeline!"