Page 44 of The Heiress
“I’d like to see her play, too,” Mom said. “I miss watching tennis. Elisha, would you like to come? Have you been to the Country Club yet?”
“I’ve been once. Our dorm went to lunch in the restaurant one weekend,” Elisha said.
“Is there always plenty to do in the weekends? Does the school arrange activities for you?” Mom asked.
“Yeah, there’s always a bunch of trips, either to River Valley or Falls Creek. You can go to concerts or museums or hiking.”
“So, you’re kept very busy?” Mom said.
“Sometimes,” Elisha said. “I kind of just chill out most weekends.”
My ears perked up, wondering if Elisha didn’t participate because of her grudge with her parents.
“Her first game is at eleven,” I said.
“Well, I have a few things to do this morning,” Mom said. “How about I meet you two there? And we could have lunch later. How does that sound?”
I willed Mom to look directly at me, my glare ready to shoot daggers at her, but she was now showing Elisha where to put the pod in the machine and how to turn it on.
“Hey, there’s still my plate,” I said in a bid to gain Mom’s attention.
“You can wash that yourself,” Mom said without so much as a fleeting glance in my direction.
“So I press this?” Elisha asked.
“Yep. Thank you,” Mom said and she patted Elisha’s shoulder as if she’d just programmed the robotic arm on the International Space Station.
By the time I finished my waffles, Mom and Elisha had left the room, and I was forced to rinse my own plate and cutlery. Out the window, I could see that Elisha had indeed picked up all the balls and pushed the cart under the patio—and I hadn’t even thanked her.
Chapter 14
Elisha
I’d never been askedto load the dishwasher at home. When I finished a meal, I left the plate on the table and Hannah cleared it away. If I ate in my bedroom, Hannah would take my bowls and mugs away if I forgot. And I usually forgot. And it’s not that I was lazy, it’s just that I’d never had to do those sorts of things. Never had to pick up a bathmat or make my bed or wash a dish...because there was always someone else to do it.
At Whitney Hall I’d learned to do my own laundry. It wasn’t like at home where I threw my clothes in a hamper and they magically reappeared in my closet one or two days later. Or at a five star hotel where you put your clothes in a bag and they returned later all fresh and smelling good. Hotel laundry had its own unique fragrance.
