Page 35 of The Boss
Aha. So here are the women. Of course.
Not that old fashioned, my ass.
The kitchen is large but has a homey feel, even though everything is industrial-sized. The couple women closest to me are stout, older, red-haired, motherly types. Have I walked into a Disney movie? Because this is so cliche. There’s a big old mantoo, at one of the stoves. Off to the side is an eat-in table covered with big dishes, where men in a line are spooning up food.
“Ay! She’s up! Sheila, the missus is up!” Says the oldest woman with a kind, ruddy face and bright blue eyes. I offer a polite grin and look around for another old lady to come greet me.
“Mrs.Quinn!” Someone says to my right.
Oh, hell, that’s me. I’m Mrs. Quinn.
I turn and say, “Oh, Luna, please,” to a woman that can’t possibly be Sheila. She’s about my age, drop dead gorgeous with naturally white-strawberry-blonde hair, huge blue eyes, a perfectly proportioned face and banging curves underneath her apron.
“Luna. I’m Sheila, I’m supposed to show you around today.” She says, looking nervous.
“Oh, right, well, you don’t have to do that. I can make myself at home.” My response makes her frown. I smile and look at the food. “I’d love some breakfast, though, it smells amazing in here.”
“It’s a deep dish quiche, I thought we should do something special for your first day, so it’s Quinn’s favorite!” Her whole face lights up when she says my husband’s name. All her reservations about me disappear and her eyes get all dewy.
Ok, so, they’re definitely fucking.
Noted.
Her dreamy expression fades as I stand there studying her, so she motions for me to follow her, “Well, as you see, it’s serve yourself for breakfast. Lunch too. We start breakfast at about seven and it’s gone when it’s gone so you’re lucky you didn’t miss it today.” She hands me a plate at the front, ignoring the couple of men in line, and points to the dishes, naming off some ingredients. I just get a scoop from the dish that looks the cheesiest and move along.
“There’s always hot tea, coffee in here all day long and night too, usually. And the fridges have cold brews, too, if you want?”
“Hot’s fine, thanks.” I grab a coffee mug with my free hand and follow her to a side bar with cream and sugar and stuff. Like a damn hotel.
“Lunch is served right after breakfast so if you sleep late there will always be something, we just take a breather in the afternoon before cooking the big dinner. Almost everyone eats at the same time so it takes a little more prep.” She’s back to being nervous. I guess it makes sense for the boss’s mistress to be nervous around the boss’s wife.
“How many people live here, exactly?”
She leads me to another side table with fruits and sides. “About fifty or so in the house, then there are more in the guest houses, guard houses.”
“But what about the rest of the men?”
This can’t be Quinn’s whole crew, can it?
“Oh, well, um, all the capos who are married with families have their own houses nearby, and a lot of the older capos prefer to live in the city. But many come here for meals and meetings. It is a long day and a lot to cook, yes, but at least the cooks don’t have to do any clean up so they’re done for the day around five,” she explains to me.
I wonder why, since I don’t give a rat’s tiny ass about the kitchen schedule. I just nod.
“Before you eat I’ll just show you the master calendar, make sure you approve.” She leads me around a corner to a back hallway. There are more fridges, freezers and a built-in desk with a bulletin board that must be as old as the house. It holds a big calendar with about a million little notes, names, and scribbles I don’t understand. “I’m in charge of the house but you are in charge of me, of course, so if you want anything changed just let me know.”
“Oh, um…”
“See there’s the cleaning teams, with special teams for the music room and library, and kitchen duty specifically. Laundry too. There’s the maintenance inside, a lot of that is the intercom, the gaming tables, anytime little things break here and there, then grounds maintenance, pools and fountains and lights, then the actual gardening team if you’ve got a green thumb.”
If I’ve got a what now?
She goes on, “There are the cooks, I’m sure you have some great Italian recipes, or there’s also an errands team that goes into the city and gets the groceries, stocks up on paper goods. Not sure about that since you’d have to take so many guards with you, might be impractical.”
“Um, I don't know…” I start, unsure of what she’s trying to tell or ask me.
“Oh, don’t worry, of course, a lot of newcomers just rotate through at first, you can do that. Some rotate forever because they like the variety. I also saw your instruments, if you are more creative and good with your hands maybe you’d want to do some decorating or upholstery work. We do have a sewing team but it’s mostly me and Shae, my mom, you just met her back there. We put buttons back on as needed.”
She chuckles at that. Like there’s something funny about sewing. Like any of the words coming out of her very pretty mouth make any fucking sense.
