Page 55 of Pickled
While I waited, I slipped my arms into the quilted jacket. From the waist up, I looked like I could join Judy’s Azalea Bay Ladies Who Lunch Club. From the waist down the scuffed Converse and cargo pants told another tale. Shrugging out of the jacket, I heard the doorbell ring one more time, and then the heavy iron lock clanged as Judy opened the door.
Security at Rosewood Estates was top-notch, but still, I listened in to make sure that Mrs. Lockelhurst was alright. Keith was golfing, and it was just the two of us in the house. Although Judy had proved that she didn’t mind standing up to tough men.
Someone with a very deep voice spoke from outside. It was muffled, but I’d recognize that honey baritone a mile away.
Gideon.
Shit, shit, shit.
I crept to the top of the stairs like a stalker. This was not how I’d planned to tell him. I’d rehearsed a mature, honest speech about how I should have been up-front from the beginning.
Gideon’s words hadn’t been audible, but Judy’s response sent a chill down my spine. “Oh, you’re looking for Piper?”
Double shit. What was I going to do?
“I’ll get her. Come inside, young man.”
From my vantage point, all I could see were his feet, in those slides he kept in the front hallway of his house.
“Who are you?” This time, I could hear his words clearly.
“My name is Judy. I’m, um, the maid. Let me get Miss Piper. I’m helping her clean out her closet, and that woman has enough designer handbags to start her own store. On second thought.” Judy paused, her hand visible on the post at the bottom of the stairs. “She probably doesn’t want to be disturbed. Shall I take a message and have her call you back?”
Gideon shifted his weight from one foot to the other and picked up the backpack he’d set on the floor. “I just wanted to bring her some mail. She left it in my car the other day.” I couldn’t see it but could hear the zipper of the backpack opening.
“Oh.” Mrs. Lockelhurst’s voice quivered. “I’ll give it to her.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. “Wait.” Gideon’s voice was low. “This can’t be right. This mail is for a Keith Lockelhurst.”
“That’s the… mechanic.” Judy spoke a little too quickly.
I groaned.
“The mechanic gets his mail delivered here?” Gideon sounded confused.
I couldn’t take it. Judy had switched from a British to a Southern accent and back to British during their short conversation. She was in head-to-toe designer clothes and wearing kitten heels. That woman wasn’t fooling anyone.
Squeezing the railing on the banister, I took a deep breath. This was really happening, and even though she meant well, Mrs. Lockelhurst was making things ten million times worse, if that was even possible.
“Ma’am.” Gideon’s voice was polite. “I think there’s been some confusion.”
“Confusion? What confusion? I’m definitely the maid.” She was back to the Southern drawl.
My legs were as strong as Jell-O as I made my way downstairs, each step bringing me closer to the moment I’d been dreading.
Gideon looked like he’d stepped off the pages of a magazine, even in jeans and a T-shirt. Judy stood next to him, wearing about fifty thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry, trying to pass herself off as “the help.”
“Gideon,” I managed to croak. The muscles in my neck had decided to choke out my voice box.
He turned, and I watched his face change as he took me in. The cargo pants with the spots of bleach, a faded T-shirt, hair in a messy ponytail.
His eyes moved from me to the stack of mail in his hands. Mail addressed to Judith and Keith Lockelhurst. Then back to me.
I could see the exact moment he figured it out.
“You work here.”Not a question.
“Piper is like family,” Mrs. Lockelhurst jumped in. “She doesn’t work here.”
