The Tattered Thread

  **********

  Elaine wasn’t one to make waves, so she kept a low profile for the first week of her employment. By then she’d met everyone except the boss himself. Staying close to Chloe, Elaine worked when she worked, ate when she ate, and slept when she slept. She was uncomfortable doing anything on her own. It was easy to tell herself that after she got used to the place, things would evolve into some degree of normalcy. But for now, being Chloe Brice’s shadow was good enough.

  On the start of that second Monday, they both began the day’s duties by scrubbing all of the tiled floors on the first floor. After that, they planned to strip and then wax the hardwoods. They got an early start so that they would be out of the way by eight-thirty. That had been the plan, anyway.

  Like clockwork, Tasia came stumbling out of Carl’s office, pausing only once to tuck her blouse inside her blue jeans. Her blonde hair was in need of combing, and she looked hung over. Glancing around as if she had something to hide, it was obvious that she didn’t belong wherever she’d been.

  It was almost seven in the morning, and Tasia tripped over Elaine’s bucket because she wasn’t looking where she was going. The collision sloshed soapy water out across the floor like foam spreading over the sea.

  “Ah!” Tasia said. The high note she hit could best be compared to the squeal of an injured pig. “Jeez, Elaine!” she added, using her fingers to comb her hair. Having recently been permed, several strands of it refused to lay down. “I didn’t see you there.” Tasia looked ill, as if leading a double life was slowly starting to kill her, and bags were beginning to form under those gorgeous eyes.

  “No big deal,” Elaine said, sopping up the water. She was annoyed because the water had spilled in an area she’d already finished, but she didn’t mention it.

  “Chloe always starts at the other end of the hall. I didn’t expect anyone way over here.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Have you seen Lois this mornin’?” she said, her voice sounding an entire octave lower than usual. That east Texas flavor rang through like a bell. ‘Lois’ was Mrs. Kastenmeier, of course, and most likely a hungry Mrs. Kastenmeier by now.

  “Yes. She’s sitting in the kitchen and waiting to be served.”

  “Damn!” Tasia said, taking off for the kitchen, leaving a perfect set of smudged footprints as she hurried along.

  Elaine watched Tasia until she was out of sight. While her attention was diverted to the outcast and downtrodden, she didn’t notice someone else coming out of the office and looming over her. “And who are you?” a voice boomed, and Elaine jumped when she heard it.

  She looked up to find a well-dressed man standing beside her, his left hand planted firmly behind his back. Every hair on his head was in place, and graying eyebrows hovered at the bottom of his forehead like eagle’s wings. If this was Carl, he looked a lot younger than Elaine had anticipated; she’d expected him to look fifty, but he carried his age well. Unlike Tasia, he seemed structured and well-seasoned, someone with big plans and miles of future ahead of him to see them through. After all, he’d already built an empire out of oil paint varnish.

  In his right hand, the chased silver, griffin-head handle of a walking stick was pointed right at her as if daring her to move. Pulled back as if in a tight grimace or snarl, the griffin’s beak made it appear rabid and angry. Why, it almost looked ready to pounce on her and bite, but, then again, the same could be said of its owner. The way Carl walked, talked, and even the expression on his face read like bad press, and bespoke of money and power and knowing how to use them. Gazing down at Elaine as if she were a trifle, his stance alone declared him master of the wonderful, Victorian kingdom around them.

  “Speak up! Who the devil are you?” he said again.

  “Elaine Kostas, sir,” she said, standing up as she wiped her hands off on her apron. “I’m the new maid.” She extended her hand, but he didn’t bother to shake it. Perhaps he didn’t relish getting his hands dirty.

  “You’re Chloe’s friend,” he said, and she nodded. Noticing the pail and scrub brush beside her, he said, “Enough of that now. I want you to clean my office.” Checking his watch, he took a moment to glance around. “You can start with the bedroom.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Didn’t Chloe tell you that the bedroom in my office is to be cleaned first?”

  Elaine nodded.

  “She did? Then why aren’t you cleaning it?” Standing before her, he pressed his walking stick hard into the floor. As Cameron had suggested, he seemed anxious to catch her doing something, anything, wrong.

  “I would have,” Elaine said, “but you were still using the bed.”

  Carl took those words with two bugged, blue eyes and a twist of his head. He stopped leaning against his walking stick and pulled it back an inch or two. Obviously he hadn’t expected her answer to make so much sense. Her response didn’t make him testy, but he also didn’t seem to appreciate anything short of her begging his pardon. Staring down at her, he finally said, “Next time do the bedroom first.”

  As he walked off, he maintained a stride a captain might assume on the decks of a ship. His cane, something he’d needed ever since shattering a kneecap after falling from a horse during a polo match, added an authentic touch. It tapped against the floor the way Ahab’s wooden leg would have. The only thing missing was the great white man-eater. But Elaine was certain that Lois would be along shortly.