The Housekeeper's Daughter. Christine FlynnЧитать онлайн книгу.
Addie turned to her task once more, trying to remember which valves she’d shut off, which she hadn’t. She too rarely encountered members of the extended Kendrick family to know whom the younger ones belonged to. She wasn’t like certain members of the staff who followed every word written about every Kendrick, either. The only one she’d ever been interested in enough to read about was Gabe. And she couldn’t begin to imagine why he would care where she would be later—unless he was still concerned about having some duty to her dad.
Maybe you need an older brother, he’d said.
She’d never had a brother, but she supposed that, in many ways, she already thought of him as one.
She hadn’t always, though, she thought, opening the timer box to finish what she’d started to do ten minutes ago. When she was nine years old, and he fifteen, she’d thought of him as the smartest boy in the world. Then she’d turned ten and she had thought of him more as her knight in shining armor.
Timer buttons clicked as she turned off section after section. She could still remember the day he’d made that transition in her mind, how wet and miserable the weather had turned. And how frightened she’d been of the older kids who’d tried to take her lunch money from her at the bus stop. She could remember Gabe, too. How big and brave and commanding he’d seemed even then.
He had been enrolled in Briarwood at the time, an exclusive prep school miles in the opposite direction of the public school she’d attended. He hadn’t let the fact that he’d gone so far out of his way, or that he would be seriously late, stop him from helping her, though. He’d seen what was going on, rescued her with the cool, steel-eyed glare that still had lesser males backing away and driven her to school himself. He’d pulled right up in front of Thomas Jefferson Elementary in the shiny new Jag his parents had given him for his sixteenth birthday and let her out as if he were her own private chauffeur.
She’d been in serious puppy love with him at ten, and had a wild crush on him as a teenager. As a young woman, she’d been in awe of him and all he was accomplishing, and terribly grateful for his support when her father had died.
It had been Gabe who had helped her through the deep sadness she’d felt at the loss of her dad, because Gabe had loved and respected him, too. And it had been Gabe who had prevented even more upheaval when it had appeared that she and her mom would have to move from the groundskeeper’s cottage.
The cottage had been her parents’ home ever since they’d lost their farm in Kentucky some twenty years before and gone to work for the Kendricks. The tidy little house just inside the woods was a benefit provided to the groundskeeper as part of his salary. It was their home when Addie had been born. But since her father no longer held that position, she and her mom weren’t entitled to stay there.
Mrs. Kendrick had been terribly kind. She had waited nearly two weeks after the funeral before she’d asked Addie’s mom to move up to the servants’ quarters in the main house so she could hire another man. Mrs. Kendrick had assumed that at nineteen, Addie would be on her own, that she would either go back to school or get a job in town.
Everything had happened so quickly that Addie hadn’t had time to consider her own plans. Her only concern had been for her mom. The thought of leaving the cottage and the memories her mom had shared there with her dad had all but devastated the grieving woman.
Addie had never known her mom to be anything less than stoic. She’d also had no idea what to do to help her until Gabe had suggested that she take over her father’s job herself.
She would never have thought of approaching Mrs. Kendrick on her own. Aside from being totally intimidated by the famous woman and not at all accustomed to speaking up for herself, she hadn’t felt qualified to take over such a responsible position. But Gabe had insisted there was no one better qualified, and reminded her of how she had helped her father with his chores from the time she’d been old enough to dig in the dirt. There wasn’t a tree, flower or stretch of lawn on the property that she couldn’t propagate, name or mow. Because her father’s ailing heart had slowed him down so much, she had already dropped out of college to help him so he wouldn’t work so hard. Or lose his job. In his final weeks she’d been handling his job alone as it was.
A young woman definitely hadn’t been Mrs. Kendrick’s idea of a proper groundskeeper. But she hadn’t wanted to take Rose from her home, either, so she had given Addie a six-month trial.
That had been five years ago. As grateful as Addie had been to the woman then, she’d been even more grateful to her son.
The problem was that now she wasn’t sure what she felt toward Gabe beyond something too complicated to question.
Being her practical, pragmatic self, she didn’t question it. She simply accepted that she had always cared for him, always would and headed off to make sure the florists didn’t damage her topiaries with their ribbons and tiny white lights before she had to join her mother in the main house. All the rooms would need straightening while the houseguests were at the wedding.
Addie didn’t usually pull housekeeping duty. On the few occasions she had, she’d truly hated it, which meant she definitely wasn’t looking forward to it now. Knowing she would be in the main house that evening only added to the disquiet she couldn’t quite seem to shake.
That odd unease accompanied her on her way to the house a little after six o’clock that evening. The ceremony had begun, and with everyone’s attention on the couple exchanging vows by the reflecting pond, no one noticed her slip from the opening in the trees a city block away and hurry across the cobblestone drive between the main house and the garage.
The side door, or the servants’ entrance as it was known by the family, led to a utility room and on into the kitchen.
Addie didn’t mind being in those particular rooms. The kitchen was Olivia’s domain, and Addie had found the open space with its miles of glass-fronted cabinets, hanging pots and herbs growing on the windowsills to be as warm and inviting as the woman herself. She’d just never been comfortable in the mansion’s more vast and elegant spaces. Mostly, she suspected, because she knew she didn’t belong there.
As a child, she could use only the servants’ door when she needed her mother. And never was she allowed beyond the doors of the kitchen and servants’ areas themselves. She had been a teenager before she’d set foot in the main foyer, and then only because she’d helped her dad bring in and hang the fresh greens they’d made into holiday wreaths and garlands for the staircases and mantels.
As she headed inside now, she carried a bunch of brilliant red and gold asters she’d cut for the servants’ dining table. She didn’t come to the main house often, but when she did she always brought flowers for Olivia and the maids to enjoy.
The scent of something buttery and delicious drew her through the utility room with its deep sink and cabinets for boots, servants’ coats and cleaning supplies. Grabbing an old china teapot for a vase from a cupboard, and scissors from a drawer, she smiled at Olivia working at the center island and stopped at the sink to arrange the flowers.
“Come on in here and do that,” Olivia called, rubbing her nose with the back of her forearm since her hands were covered with flour. “As long as there’s no bugs, you can use my sink.
“Oh, you brought my favorite,” she observed, seeing what Addie carried when she entered the high-ceilinged room. “I just love those bright colors.” As long as her arm was up, she nudged at the white headband holding back her tight salt-and-pepper curls. “So, did you see her?”
“Who?” Addie asked, bundling vase and flowers past the island.
“Tess, of course,” Olivia replied, as if she couldn’t imagine who else they’d be discussing. “The bride?”
“I didn’t see anyone.” Preoccupied, trying not to be, she set her flowers on the spotless counter and turned on the faucet. “I came up by the garages.”
“Well, she looks like a vision,” the loquacious cook pronounced. “I can’t begin to