Page 32 of Liar Byrd
Here it comes.
“I don’t think she has any experience at all.” I recall the pretty but skittish brunette, whom I suspect is not a natural brunette,given the brown dye on her forehead, and the hesitation before she told me her name. “And she was lying about her name.”
“So you hired a girl with no experience and a fake name who you invited through your front door?”
I lean against the kitchen table, eyeing her back warily and wondering if I might need to duck. “Technically,youwere the one who let her in. I just interviewed her.”
She tsks again, louder this time. Stirring the pot with a wooden spoon, she sets it down with a clatter on a spoon rest beside the large stainless steel chef’s stove.
“You don’t approve.” I pull back a wooden chair from the table and sink into it. I’m not the least bit surprised when she dishes up a small serving of the stew and places it in front of me, handing me a spoon.
She’ll complain later when I barely eat any of the fancy three-course meal she thinks she needs to keep bringing us in the dining room. That was what she was trained to do, so she keeps doing it.
“It’s not my job to approve or disprove. You’re the one paying her to clean.”
I take the spoon and taste the stew. It’s good. I’d known it would be. No one can cook like Nance. “But you think I should have hired someone with experience.”
She places a glass of water in front of me and takes a seat across from me, fixing her steady gaze on me. “So why did you hire an out-of-town girl with no experience and just the clothes on her back?”
“You caught the lack of belongings, too, huh?”
“I’m old, but I’m not blind.”
I eat more of the stew, chewing and swallowing before I speak. “She needs the work, and the house needs a maid.”
“I can manage.”
“You’re getting older, Nance. You can’t do it alone. And Lydia is useless.” It’s harsh but true. I catch Lydia scrolling through her phone more than I see her cleaning.
“Why don’t you fire her then?”
“She’s quitting. There’s no point in firing someone who’s already leaving.”
She arches her brow but doesn’t say what she’s thinking, which is that Lydia has been useless for a while, so I’ve had plenty of opportunities to fire her before now. Dad hired her four years ago, when she was seventeen, as a favor to someone in town.
I didn’t have the heart to fire someone who was terrible at their job but needed the money, especially with her wedding coming up. So, I tolerate her uselessness, knowing it will end soon, mostly because getting rid of her means I’d have to hire someone to replace her.
“You wouldn’t have hired Jessica if she weren’t pretty.”
I eat a little more of the stew, not offended. If Nance wanted to offend, she’d make it hurt. “I’m not taking advantage of a pretty girl down on her luck.”
“So you would have hired her if she’d been fat, ugly, and clutching a cat that hissed at you?”
I arch my eyebrow. “A cat thathissedat me?”
“You don’t like cats. Answer the question.”
“I don’t like cats becausetheydon’t likeme,” I counter.
She looks at me.
Sighing, I put the spoon down and lean back in my seat, the wooden chair creaking ominously. These chairs won’t break. The furniture in this house is old and strong enough to outlast me.
“I don’t know, okay? Maybe I would have hired her if she were ugly and showed up with a Satan cat that spent its days trying to scratch my eyes out,” I say, giving her a significant look.
I was twelve when she shoved a fat, orange cat at me that she had found meowing in the garden, telling me to take it because she had cooking to do.
I was young and stupid back then. I took the cat and learned how painful it can be to hold one. By the end of the first day, my arms were covered with scratches. By the end of the first week, I hated the stupid thing.
