Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,60
or a pilot, or perhaps a naval officer.
If you haven’t worked this out yet, I haven’t exactly worked out what I want to do just yet. There’s only one thing I do know, I don’t want to do it here. The only people I can help here are the Novaks, and they have so much money, they don’t need the type of help I’m offering. I’m only applying for the position of chambermaid today so that I can put aside my wages for a degree. They’re not cheap, and my parents can’t afford to pay on my behalf. I’m two years younger than the starting age of most of the chambermaids, but I’m hopeful the mascara on my lashes will mature up my looks enough they’ll look past the childishness of my face.
“You’re Hana and Ivan’s daughter, correct?”
Mrs. Novak’s head pops up from my handwritten resume when I nod. “Yes, Mrs. Novak. My father is currently your chauffeur, and my mother is your head housekeeper.”
“And you want to be a chambermaid? That’s your career aspiration?”
I lick my lips, truly unsure how to reply. I’ve never been a fan of lying, so I go with straight-up honesty. “Not exactly. I’d like to be a chambermaid for now. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.”
Her expression switches from amused to miffed in less than a nanosecond. “Grow up is a fitting set of words considering your age.”
“I will work hard, and I’ll have no trouble keeping up with your schedule as set.”
She arches a blonde brow. “Even with you being half the age and weight of your colleagues?”
I nod, preferring to lie without words. I’m strong, despite my small frame. My parents raised me right.
The knot in my stomach tightens when Mrs. Novak sighs. She only ever sighs when she’s disappointed, which is often these days. “I’m sorry, Kristina. I don’t see you being a suitable fit for our staff. Perhaps in a few years—”
“I won’t be here in a few years. I’ll be at college.”
She smiles like I’m joking. It agitates me more than I’ll ever express. “We’ll see.”
After dismissing me from the room with a wave of her hand, she shifts her focus to the next applicant on her long list of many.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” I mouth to my mother during my silent trek across the ballroom-size room.
The lowering of her chin reveals she spotted my comment, but she can’t reply, or she’ll risk being fired. Even suggesting for a chicken gravy to be served with turkey can get you fired by Mrs. Novak. She hates being told what to do.
Halfway across the manicured gardens separating the servants’ quarters from the main residence, I’m startled to within an inch of my life. “No luck?” Achim, Mr. and Mrs. Novak’s eldest son, smiles a blistering grin when I clutch my chest to ensure my heart remains put. This is the first time I’ve seen him in over a year. He’s attending his senior year at a boarding school far, far away from here. “It was probably the braid. It makes you look very childish.”
Boarding school was supposed to teach him some manners.
It clearly didn’t work.
After rolling my eyes, I continue down the path I was walking before I was rudely interrupted. My strides slacken three steps later when Achim shouts, “I can help you, you know.”
Hearing his unvoiced words the loudest, I say, “With what, exactly?”
He waits for me to pivot around and face him before he answers, “You want to work for my family, don’t you?” When I nod, the arrogance on his face doubles. “I can help you with that… if you’re willing to do something worthwhile to be awarded my help.”
I’ve lived a very sheltered life, but even someone as naïve as me couldn’t miss the innuendo in his tone. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m willing to wait another two years.”
My steps freeze for the second time when Achim mutters, “That’ll be another four years stuck here, saving to go to school. Come on, Kristina. Don’t act so regal. Your head will never wear the crown you’re seeking. You’ll always be the help, so why not accept it when it’s being offered?”
I barely roll my eyes for a second, however, it’s long enough for Achim to creep up on me unaware. He fists my braid so fiercely, I’m certain it’ll take longer than a year to cover the bald patch of his yank. “You either accept my help willingly, Help, or