don’t worry. Do you want the jam-filled or the cream?”
My mouth watered as he opened the bag. “Jam-filled?” I liked this job more and more.
He passed my treat over. “Do you need anything else? Bleach? Laundry detergent? A dump truck?”
“The truck’s tempting, but I’ve still got enough cleaning products. I do have a question, though.”
“Go for it.”
“I found a pile of boxes full of women’s clothes and trinkets in the room next to the living room. Should I unpack them?”
Big brown boxes, sealed with shiny brown tape that had gone dry under the edges. Unable to contain my curiosity, I’d opened a couple. A china eagle was wrapped in pages from a German newspaper dated seven years ago. Was that when Mr. Goldman moved in? Seven freaking years and he hadn’t touched half of his stuff?
Bradley’s eyes widened for a second, but he quickly flashed a smile. “No, no, leave them. Uh, just stack them in one of the spare bedrooms.”
“Do you know who the stuff belongs to?” Emmy perhaps?
“Shut the door and forget about it. No point in stirring up the past.”
What past? I was dying to ask, but Bradley got up and headed to the front door. He gave me a finger wave, but I didn’t have time to return it before he disappeared.
Time to get back to work. I returned to my chores, licking the last traces of sugar off of my lips. Really, I needed to start on the laundry if I was to have any chance of getting it done before Mr. Goldman got back.
Investigation on the second floor revealed six bedrooms, although only one looked like it had ever been slept in. As well as the mammoth pile in the master, the other five were full, and I mean full, of dirty clothes. I grabbed an armful and put on what would be the first load of many, then headed back to the living room.
By the end of the second week, I’d begun to get just a tiny bit lonely. Rybridge was the quietest neighbourhood I’d ever been in. No door-to-door salesmen, no street sounds, and no loud music, at least until Bradley stopped by with Disney tunes blaring from the speakers in his Lamborghini. He even brought me treats—macarons on one day, and a birthday cake on another.
“Uh, my birthday’s not until January.”
“I know that. It was on your application. But the cake’s pink, and every girl needs a pink cake.”
How could I argue with that logic? “I’ll get some matches for the candles.”
I scurried off, wiping a tear from my cheek. Why? Because it was the first time since Momma died that anyone had thought of my birthday, even if it was six months early.
My only other company was the gardener, who nearly gave me a heart attack when he started the lawnmower outside the window one overcast Tuesday morning. By the time I’d picked myself up off the floor, he was at the far end of the lawn, head bobbing away in time to music I couldn’t hear. He turned out to be a man of few words. Apart from a grunt of thanks when I took him a cup of coffee, I didn’t get much out of him.
Sick of my own company, not to mention my dubious singing as I tidied, I gave Sylvia a call. I’d checked the map, and she was only a ten-minute walk away.
“Feel like getting a coffee?” I asked. After the kindness she’d shown me, I owed her a treat.
“I can meet you at lunch, but I won’t have long. I know a place with amazing muffins.”
That suited me—even though I’d added cheese and ham to my sandwich repertoire, I could do with a bit of variety. I set out with time to spare, enjoying the walk along quiet streets. Living here must be a surreal experience. Until I started working for Mr. Goldman, the biggest home I’d been in was Billy’s father’s mansion, but these places made his look like a doll’s house.
I snagged a table next to the sidewalk at the café Sylvia suggested, earning a suspicious look from the waitress. Maybe I shouldn’t have come in jeans? I’d decided that until Mr. Goldman came back, I might as well wear something comfortable even if I didn’t fit in with the Rybridge set.
Sylvia did, though. She turned up five minutes later, dragging a pocket-sized dog on a sparkly pink leash.
“Sorry I’m late. Mitzi insisted on sniffing everything.”
What was she? A chihuahua? I bent