Page 45 of One Night with Cinderella

Jillian fell silent and lightly touched her chin as she looked off in the distance.

Monica thought of the note one of the Cress family members had left for her: the taste of you still lingers on my tongue.

Maybe even Gabriel.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Monica said, coming into the kitchen to stand on the other side of the island.

The women eyed each other.

Jillian smiled. It was a little sad. Melancholy. “Lots. During,” she admitted. “After I quit one day? None.”

She understood that Jillian had just admitted to her own delicious dalliances with one of the Cress men.

“Who?” Monica asked, ready for her curiosity about the note to end.

“Not Gabe,” Jillian assured.

“Fair enough,” Monica said.

Jillian laughed a bit and turned to pull trays from both double ovens.

“Why does it have to end after you stop working here?” Monica asked.

“Different reasons,” Jillian said, using silicone tongs to plate the trays of stuffed puff pastry. “Mostly because I don’t think he will ever see me as anything but the cook.”

Monica leaned against the edge of the island and turned her head to look down the length of the kitchen and dining room to the backyard. The sight of the illuminated water feature was soothing in that moment as her own fears surfaced. “So, can Gabe see me as more than a maid?” she asked softly, wishing she was outdoors and could hear the sound of the running water.

“It’s different,” Jillian said. “Money changes everything.”

Monica looked down at the pastries. They looked delicious. “May I? I’m hungry,” she said.

At that moment, Felice entered the kitchen and set her empty serving tray on the island. “Mrs. Cress would like more of the roast beef sliders,” she said, her voice stiff. “Perhaps you should offer the lady one before you place them on my tray.”

Monica could see the woman was offended. “Felice, I was the Cress maid before you—”

“I know. You’re the talk of the party,” the woman said.

“I’m sure I am,” Monica said dryly.

“I know you are,” Felice countered. “It’s hard to miss when you’re moving from crowd to crowd overhearing them.”

“What are they saying?” Monica asked, hating that she even cared.

Jillian and Felice shared a brief look that gave the housekeeper the okay to repeat the things she couldn’t help but overhear.

“They ridiculed Mr. Cress for openly dating the help,” she said with reluctance.

“I’d bet good money they were the socialites scowling at me,” Monica said, feeling annoyance.

Felice remained silent. Her reticence with Monica was clear.

“Listen, the part of the job I hated the most was serving food at parties,” Monica continued, needing to explain herself to the woman. “I didn’t take the food because I remember being in your position and hating it so much. I’m not comfortable being served. That’s all.”

Felice’s face softened. “In that moment it felt like you thought my touch was dirty,” she said.

“Never,”Monica stressed, reaching to touch the woman’s hand.

“If you are gonna move in the company of the haves then it’s gonna be hard to keep the mindset of the have-nots,” Felice said.

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