Hey there, phans! I've enjoyed writing and planning out this story so far, and I hope you all will love it! Please don't forget to review—they really do mean a lot. :)
Something was different. Christine just couldn't quite put her finger on it… Maybe it was the fact that her bed was so comfortable today. Or the different smell of the sheets. The sun seemed to be coming from a different direction—it wasn't shining in her face like usual. Christine opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. She rested on her elbow and looked around. Before she had a chance to question where she was, it all came rushing back. She had been fired, found this mansion, got reacquainted with Meg, and now she had a decision to make.
Was this even her decision? There was no way Erik Destler would allow this, not after she saw how he had reacted to her staying only one night. The thought of losing this opportunity made her nervous, though. Even though the situation wasn't ideal, Christine had begun to trust it. It would provide security, something she hadn't had in a very long time. A familiar ache wedged its way into her heart. She didn't realize until last night that it was an ache of loneliness. She thought of Meg's sincerity and kindness. Annette's willingness to help her. Their traits could outweigh Mr. Destler's peculiar obsession with privacy. Couldn't they?
Her musings were interrupted by someone knocking on the door. Christine sat up all the way as Meg's head popped through the cracked door.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked.
"Surprisingly well, actually… You can come in."
Meg entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her. "I have some news. I hope you realize that I was completely serious about what I said last night. I think it would be a good thing for you to stay and work here. Now, I discussed it with Mother early this morning, and it took some persuading, but she likes the idea, too. I waited until after Erik worked out this morning to mention it to him—that's when he's in his best mood… if you can call it that. Anyways, he brushed me off at first, but then I explained to him how Mother wouldn't be able to do this forever. And it would be better to ease someone else in than suddenly get someone new or have a dirty house—"
"Meg, breathe!" Christine laughed.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I babble when I get excited." She took a moment to inhale and exhale. "Essentially, Mother and I have practically succeeded in convincing him. But he wants to talk to you. Kind of like an interview, I guess. So the job is basically yours. If you want it, that is."
She looked expectantly at Christine, who began to panic. Had she thought this through enough? Was she ready to make a decision? What if—
"Oh, my God. I'm sorry, Christine, I'm being so rude. You just woke up. You need time to think," Meg looked mortified.
Christine smiled at her assuringly. "How about I take a shower and I'll talk with Mr. Destler after I'm ready."
Meg nodded. "There's some extra clothes in the armoire if you'd like." She turned back to smile at her before exiting the bedroom.
Christine let out a breath and got out of bed. She went to the window and ghosted her fingers over the white chiffon curtains. She delicately pulled them back and gasped when she saw the view. There was a lake in the backyard. Okay, so maybe it couldn't technically be called a backyard… but there was a lake within 50 feet of the house. The snow from the previous night had created an entrancing wonderland. The evergreens were ever-white and the snow glittered in the morning sun. The lake was a gorgeous dark blue, but it wasn't cold enough for it to be frozen all the way through. Christine's breath fogged up the glass of the window.
She stepped back. That view alone could make me stay. She grabbed the towel Meg had set out and made her way into the bathroom. Even that was gorgeous—an elaborate mirror, intricate tiling, an incredibly plush rug. There was a jacuzzi tub and a separate glass-doored shower. As she undressed, Christine hoped she would get to use the tub sometime soon…
Clean and refreshed, Christine made her way down the staircase. Her fingers caressed the details of the wooden railing as she descended. The morning sun glistened through the floor to ceiling windows in the living room. It had been so dark the night before, she hadn't noticed them. As a matter of fact, she could see so much more of the house now. Oh, it was stunning. The woodwork matched the handrail and made it all look so warm. The stone fireplace stood in the middle of the great area, separating the living room and an informal dining room and kitchen. She looked up at the ceiling and found a gorgeous crystal chandelier. The crystals caught the natural light and cast tiny rainbows all around it.
Her admiring of the house was interrupted by Meg, who was passing by.
"Christine! Would you like some breakfast or do you want to speak with Erik first?"
This was it. Time to discuss her decision. Her stomach suddenly squirmed. She didn't feel so hungry now.
"Let's just get it over with," she smiled to indicate her jest.
Meg smiled feebly back and led her to another hall off of the living room.
They came upon a gorgeous door with the themed detailing. She could hear voices on the other side of it, and Christine briefly wondered if Annette was still trying to persuade him. Meg knocked, the voices stopped, and Annette opened the door. Christine followed Meg in to what appeared to be Mr. Destler's study. One wall was covered entirely with books on shelves and another held some framed diplomas and accomplishments. There were large windows in this room as well, but they were currently covered with large, dark red drapes.
"Please sit," his velvet voice said curtly. Christine stepped forward to the red plush chair closest to his desk and sat down. The Girys sat in chairs a little farther away. There was a tense silence. She decided to stop admiring the decor and act like this was a real interview. Doing her best to avoid staring at the mask, Christine crossed her legs and looked Mr. Destler in the eyes. They were a steel-like grey. Interesting. He seemed to be testing her, like he was waiting for her to glance at his mask so he could kick her out. But she was determined. Partially because she wanted the job and partially because he was challenging her.
Finally, after an insanely pregnant pause, he began to speak. "The Girys tell me you seek employment here."
"That is correct."
"Why?"
She broke eye contact and sighed softly. "I am currently unemployed, and I honestly don't know what else to do." She decided to spare the details, not wanting him to think she was telling some sob story for sympathy.
"What was your previous job?"
"I was the communications coordinator at Populaire Relations in Phoenix."
"Why are you no longer with Populaire?"
Christine felt her jaw clench. This was still a sore subject. She hadn't had much time to heal. "I was fired."
He tilted his head toward her as if to say go on.
"I missed an important detail when we gained a client."
He held her slightly aggravated stare for a moment but then decided to drop the subject. Christine thought she heard one of the Girys exhale.
"Do you have experience performing domestic work, Miss Denton?"
She started to feel like this whole thing was an unnecessary formality. "Well, I have lived in a house before."
Meg snorted. Annette elbowed her. Christine smiled slightly. When she looked back at Mr. Destler, he was staring at her with irritated eyes and his visible eyebrow raised. She sighed.
"I mean… I can clean, cook, do laundry, I garden, and I'm not afraid of maintenance or yard work." Meg and Annette exchanged surprised looks. All of it was true. She began to think she might actually be good at this job.
Mr. Destler's eyes became unreadable, and he examined a piece of paper on his desk. Before she could wonder if that was a good or bad sign, he spoke again.
"Annette will show you how to properly perform the cleaning tasks. You will have a tight schedule once you learn everything. I will write up a list of your duties and we will discuss logistics later."
Meg had begun to bounce in her chair before he finished speaking. But she waited until he was done before rushing over to Christine and hugging her.
"Welcome home, Christine!" Meg said gaily.
Mr. Destler stood, walked stiffly around them, and headed for the door. Before he could leave, though, Christine went to him.
"Mr. Destler," she said. He turned around to her outstretched hand. "Thank you."
He looked at her hand briefly before shaking it. He nodded and left the study.
After breakfast, Meg and Annette gave her a grand tour of the house. The informal dining room and kitchen were the length of the living room. They led to the enclosed formal dining room. The backyard had a huge wooden deck that spanned the length of the house. Off to one side was a hot tub. The view was just as picturesque as she had seen this morning: pines and spruces scattered throughout the backyard, a gorgeous lake, and mountains in the background. There was also a fitness room—apparently Mr. Destler cared about his health. One wall was covered in mirrors. There was a treadmill, an elliptical, mats, weights, medicine balls… Christine hoped he wasn't too protective of this room. She went to the gym fairly regularly at home and wouldn't mind working out here. A hallway from the living room fed off to Mr. Destler's study, a music room, and a library. And they didn't disappoint.
As they walked into the music room, Christine could tell it had lovely acoustics. In the center of the room was a grand piano, cluttered in sheet music and compositions. A guitar and a violin had their own corner. There was an impressive music library as well. Before she had finished marveling at that room, she was swept away to the next. They came upon a pair of double doors, also bearing the wooden detailing. The Girys allowed her to be the one to open the doors. She gripped the intricate handles and pushed. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw.
The library was an open two stories. Where the walls weren't covered in books upon books there were those huge windows again. A balcony encircled the entire library, as to reach the second level books. There were movable ladders, large cushioned chairs and couches, and another huge fireplace in the center of it all. Christine felt like she would faint. This place was perfect. Meg winked at her and had to drag her on to the next stop on the tour.
They made their way up the grand staircase. Part of the second floor was open to the first, which was why the ceilings were so high. The hallway was a balcony of sorts at the top of the stairs. There was her room, of course, Annette's, an extra office-like room, and the master bedroom. It was at the end of the hallway. The open hall ended before it reached his room, casting the door in shadow. How fitting, Christine thought.
After the tour, they ate lunch in the informal dining room. Mr. Destler arrived with a large stack of papers and his laptop. Christine realized that this would not be a relaxing mealtime. He began with her list of chores: dusting and vacuuming the living room, library, formal dining room, and music room; cleaning all of the large windows; cleaning the main floor bathroom as well as her own; sweeping the chimneys; and cleaning and sanitizing the gym. Annette would take care of the kitchen and informal dining room.
"You will not need to clean my bedroom or the den."
"Why—?"
"I like my privacy," he responded curtly.
Christine dropped the subject, not knowing why she had even bothered to ask.
"You may garden for leisure when the weather is nice. Annette will prepare meals during the week, but you will cook on the weekends."
Next, he gave her a table explaining when the chores were to be done throughout the week. Then he presented her with a contract, which basically reiterated everything he had just explained. It also contained her benefits and salary. He had already written his signature; Christine gladly signed it as well. Then Mr. Destler promptly gathered the contract, his papers, and computer, and left without eating. Christine let out a breath once he was out of earshot, and Meg gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
"Why don't we go get your things?" Annette said.
The three women ventured out into the bright, snowy afternoon to Christine's car. It was a little ways down the street, right where she had left it. She had just one suitcase—she had only packed for a week-long trip.
"You could go shopping in town," Annette suggested, noticing her light packing. "It's only about 45 minutes away."
"What about your other things? Don't you have belongings back at home that you want?" Meg sounded concerned.
Christine thought about that. "Yes, there are some things I'd like to bring here. I can call my landlord and have them shipped here. I'm sure he'll be eager to get my junk out and replace me. I'll probably just sell or give away everything else." She tried not to be sad about it. This was a new start, and she would have to let go of some things. Both physical and emotional.
After Christine had unpacked, which didn't take very long, Meg decided that she needed to go back to her apartment in town. The roads were probably cleared a bit by now. Once they got her sent off, Annette took Christine around the entire house and showed her how to clean everything properly. From the dusting spray to the ladder for cleaning the windows to properly scrubbing a toilet. It wasn't annoying, exactly—Annette was nice enough about it all—but it just seemed like overkill. Chores were chores, not the Cleaning Olympics. But Christine kept her mouth shut and committed as much to memory as possible.
The training session took a couple hours. By the time they had finished, Christine was tired and hungry. She was suddenly glad she wouldn't have to prepare meals during the week. But that thought made her pause.
"Annette," she said, sitting down at the table.
"Yes?" She began chopping vegetables.
"Do I cook on the weekends to give you a break?"
There was a pause. "Yes, you could say that."
Christine squinted. "What else could I say?"
Now there was a longer pause. "…You could also say that you cook on the weekends because I won't be here."
"What?"
She continued chopping silently.
Christine rose and stood across from her at the island. "Annette, you can't expect me to—"
"To what?"
Christine stopped short and turned. Mr. Destler stood there with an impish glint in his grey eyes. He was playing innocent; he knew precisely what she was about to say. She tried not to glare at him and his stupid mask. How did she not hear him approach? He was like a cat or something. She can't expect me to be alone in a house with you for a weekend.
"You can't possibly be backing out of the job already? I know it's meticulous, but you haven't even tried yet." He smiled—or was it more of a sneer?—as he nicked a piece of carrot from the salad bowl. She didn't like his implication that she couldn't handle a simple housekeeping job. Her eyes narrowed, challenging.
"Of course not." She began to set the table, trying to ignore Mr. Destler's presence.
Christine awoke bright and early the next morning. She went down the stairs for breakfast, still dressed in her pajamas. Annette greeted her as she served her a plate of eggs in a basket. Christine responded lazily; she wasn't much of a morning person. Mr. Destler came down the stairs, rolling up the sleeves of his dark Oxford shirt. He slipped into the kitchen quickly to grab a piece of toast. But before he left, he looked at the mess of dark curls piled on top of Christine's head with distaste. She felt like snarling at him! Annette had noticed the exchange.
"He likes clean appearances, especially since we work here," she said once he was gone. Christine bit her tongue, knowing it would be very wrong to comment on his opinion of appearances.
She ate quickly and went back upstairs to shower and get ready. How was she supposed to look nice and be able to clean at the same time? Christine frowned as she looked in her mostly empty closet. She would definitely have to go shopping in town. Finally, she chose something on the more comfortable side: jeans and a purple v-neck shirt. She remembered Mr. Destler's look of dislike for her wild curls and decided to French braid her hair. As much as she wanted to look like a slob—just to spite him—she knew it wasn't a good idea.
Christine looked at herself in the mirror. She wore makeup most of the time, but today she felt like her usually boring brown eyes looked pretty. The dark circles under her eyes were already fading. She slept better here. It was peaceful to be away from the city—all the noise and so many people.
As Christine looked over the cleaning schedule, she gathered the supplies she would need from a closet next to the laundry room. Dusting the library was first. She filled a tub with a few cans of dusting spray, old rags, and a long-handled duster. After opening the double doors to the library, it hit her yet again how gorgeous this place was. She couldn't wait to just sit on a luxurious couch and read in the warm light of the fireplace. She sighed and made her way up and down the aisles of bookshelves.
When she finally finished the first level, Christine made her way up to the second. There weren't as many shelves, but she did have to climb up and down the ladders to reach the higher ones. Halfway around the mezzanine, her arms and legs got tired. She leaned against the shelf and rubbed her neck. Maybe this wouldn't be as easy as she thought… When she turned around to continue on, Christine came face-to-face with an ancient-looking book. She pulled it from the shelf and carefully examined the covers. It was decrepit but so very beautiful. She opened it delicately, turning the yellowed pages. The smell made her smile slightly.
"I don't pay you to admire my books," Mr. Destler called from the lower level. Christine jumped, juggled the book, and put it back on the shelf in one fluid movement. He retrieved a book from the shelf next to him and continued out of the library. She tried to ignore his smug chuckle as she returned to dusting.
Unfortunately for Christine, this became a theme as she learned the ropes for the rest of the week. She was either trying to ignore him or waiting for him to pop out with a surprise inspection. Okay, so, it wasn't explicitly stated as such, but that's what it felt like.
Another day, she was scrubbing the main floor toilet when he appeared from nowhere.
"Don't forget the bleach," he said coolly. He was only a couple of feet away from her. How long had he been standing there?
She looked up at him, trying not to glare. "Okay."
He stared at her for a moment longer and then left the bathroom.
Similar events occurred throughout the week, and they drove Christine crazy. She hated how easily and quietly he could sneak up. She hated his self-righteous tone, smug smiles, and conceited laughter. What was worse, he was usually right. He would tell her if she missed a spot or if her method was inaccurate. And he would correct her with such a superiority… like she was incompetent.
"I hate it… I hated being treated like an ignorant inferior. I don't know how much longer I can stay here," Christine said to Meg on the phone later that week.
Meg sighed, "I know it's frustrating, but that's how he is sometimes. He doesn't exactly know how to interact with people… so he just does what he knows best."
"What, acting like an asshole?"
"…Well, yes. It's a defense of sorts."
Christine grumbled incoherently.
"Follow his instructions exactly and learn from your mistakes. Then he won't have anything to comment on. Please just stick it out for a month. If you haven't improved then, you have my blessing to leave." She paused, then said gently, "I just don't know why you're so eager to escape when you yourself said that you have nothing to go back to."
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