Lessons in Housekeeping – Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: Hetalia is not mine, nor will it ever be.

Tiesa ended up hitchhiking halfway to the address – she had originally asked a cab driver to taker her there, but when he told her how much it would cost…well, let it suffice to say that the money they had left wouldn't cover it. She'd shown the want ad to a few helpful people (to make sure it actually was a job offer).

From the information Tiesa had gathered, she could verify that the person who'd issued the ad had done so very recently, and that they were, in fact, living in a neighborhood where hiring a new maid wasn't uncommon.

Better safe than sorry…

She walked the rest of the way – for about an hour and a half. It was kind of a rural road, but it was paved and well-kept at the same time. It wound through the woods, occasionally bringing her past a couple of beautiful, large houses. Every time, Tiesa checked the address – no, that's not it.

How far away is this place? It had been twenty minutes since the young woman had passed the ad issuer's nearest neighbor…at least, the nearest by the way she came. Tiesa was just about to give up and turn back, when she rounded a bend and there it was.

It was a grand old house, made of weathered brick and, obviously, very many rooms. A cobblestone drive led up to the front door, which was also old and beautiful looking. The trees that littered the estate created a lovely dappled-sunlight look, which cast the manor in a homey, golden glow.

It's...beautiful… It was apparent that the owner of the house had a lot of money – something the young woman could deduce just by looking at their mailbox (which, in itself, had probably cost more than all the paychecks Tiesa had ever earned). Awed and a bit nervous, she began walking up the slight slope to the front door.

She stopped in front of the steps leading up to the porch. Do I really want to do this? What if…there were so many "what ifs", but Tiesa knew she would never get anywhere in life if she started paying attention to each one. I'm going to do this, she decided. So stop worrying!

But no sooner had she climbed the steps and prepared to knock on the door, when it opened. A rather haggard older looking woman was staring her in the face. In the lady's arms were boxes and books and articles of clothing. "Excuse me!" she snapped, pushing Tiesa aside and stomping across the cobbled drive to a smallish, outdated car that was parked off to the side.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Tiesa said. "Do you need any help?" She started towards her, but the woman held up a hand.

"Stay where you are," she said. "I've met enough floozies and whores to last me a lifetime."

Tiesa was taken aback, and quite offended. She was usually quite respectful to her elders, but this woman had taken it too far. Floozy? Whore!

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, Ma'am," she said, crossing her arms. "I am not a floozy, and I am most definitely not a whore – I'm responding to an ad in the paper –"

"Already?" the lady cut her off, opening the door of the car and sliding behind the wheel. "He was quick to replace me, wasn't he?"

She pointed her finger at Tiesa and slammed the door shut. "I wouldn't take a job here, if I were you, girl." Now her finger was pointed at the house. "He pays a pittance and his son's a menace!"

Tiesa frowned, uncrossing her arms and biting her bottom lip. So far, the owner of this house – presumably the person who'd put the ad in the paper – wasn't being painted in a very good light. Maybe I should've listened to those "what ifs" after all.

Then, an obviously masculine voice came from behind her – Tiesa jumped, startled.

"It that the last of your stuff, Irene? I'm really sorry you had to quit…," the owner of the voice was obviously putting a lot of sarcasm into his words, which was not lost on the woman who Tiesa now knew was named Irene.

Irene stuck her head out of the car's window and spat on the ground. "Go to Hell!" she slammed the car shut, and struggled to start the ignition – Tiesa could hear the engine turning over.

The man behind her tsk-tsked. "What are you going on about?" the yet-to-be-seen man asked "…oh, are you here about the ad?"

He's noticed me! Tiesa turned slowly, and blinked…then blinked again. Standing before her was a quite attractive looking young man – his blond hair was messy looking, but fashionable at the same time. His body was slightly tanned and muscular – kept in shape by sports and the like she would guess, since he probably didn't do much physical work – and had bright blue eyes that sparkled with mischief and mirth at the same time. The clothes he wore looked like newer, more expensive versions of what Felicja did…except they actually fit him, unlike Felicja.

I can't just stand here all day staring at him…"Y- yes…," Tiesa held up the half of the newspaper sheepishly – she'd put it in her coat pocket to look off of for the address. "I'm here for an interview."

"Don't take it!" Irene called. The young man rolled his eyes and turned to the older woman.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he asked irritably. "You're frightening your replacement."

Irene responded by giving flashing the both of them the middle finger. She then pointed to Tiesa for a second time. "Just take the job and wait - then you'll see!" And with the backfiring bang! of an old engine, and the squeal of rubber on stone, Irene was gone.

The young – …and attractive… – young man shook his head, now turned back to Tiesa. "Sorry about that," he said with an apologetic grin. "I'm afraid the old bat never took a liking to me."

"Maybe…maybe I should go…," Tiesa started inching towards the steps. This was NOT a good idea! What was I thinking?

"Nonsense!" he clapped a hand on her back, and Tiesa stiffened at his touch. He didn't notice, though. "You came all the way from…well, I don't know, but I'm sure it was far." He crossed the threshold, motioning for her to follow.

"And don't worry about Irene – she's just pissed she didn't get any severance pay."

Tiesa looked at the open doorway with an air of caution. How do I know it's safe? Well…he seems harmless…and it would be rude to leave at this point – I'm going to give it a try. She too stepped across the threshold, and was at once in awe of the lovely interior.

Antique, dark hardwood made up everything from the floors to the trim, and the main staircase. The many windows let a bright, natural light inside that cast the same homey glow on the furniture as the one on the outside of the house.

"This way," the man called from a hallway right in front of her. Tiesa hurried to catch up, following him down a corridor with ornate carpets on the floors and paintings on the walls. I better say something…if he doesn't say something first.

He didn't, so Tiesa did. "You have a beautiful home, Mister…?" I don't know his name!

"Thanks – it's my father's, actually," he said, looking back at her. "And the name's Jones, but you…," he winked at her. "…can call me Alfred."

So he's the son Irene talked about…

She could feel her face getting red and hot with embarrassment. No – no first names…formality is best. "I – I think I'll call you Mr. Jones, if you don't mind." I hope he doesn't get angry…Tiesa's fear proved to be irrational, as Alfred just shrugged nonchalantly.

"Suit yourself," they had stopped in front of a pair of oaken French doors, one of which Alfred opened. "Go in and take a seat."

Tiesa entered the room tentatively, taking in the big window, the bookcases and the desk as she did so. There were two comfortable looking armchairs standing in front of the desk – she sat down happily. My feet are killing me! I did walk halfway here.

Alfred sauntered over to the desk – she was very glad that he kept the study door open – and settled behind it. He leaned back in his chair and placed his shoes on its lacquered surface, picking up an expensive looking pen and fiddling with it.

"So, what's your name? I bet it's pretty," he had said this with ease; like he spoke those words to every woman he met. I think he does…Tiesa tried not to blush so hard this time. Just keep your mind focused on the task at hand – don't read too deeply into what he says.

"It's Tori," she lied. Well, not lied. Tori was the name that Tiesa always gave people with whom she was seeking employment – she'd learned the hard way that someone was much more likely to hire a girl with an American-sounding name. She hadn't changed her surname, however, like so many other immigrants she'd met. No, the last name stays.

Alfred opened a drawer and withdrew a piece of paper. Tiesa couldn't help but notice how strong his hands looked. Stop! Stop thinking like that!

He scrawled "Tory" in the margin with a messy chicken scratch that was barely legible. "And your last name?" he asked.

"Laurinaitė," she supplied. Tiesa watched as he wrote it on the paper – "Lorenaytay." She didn't bother to correct him – correcting the person you were trying to get a job with never really worked out too well. I'll tell him later…

He looked up at her again. "So, Tori – do you have previous domestic experience?"

She nodded, and folded her hands in her lap. Mentally and physically she tensed, trying to say the words but at the same time not remember the memories associated with them. "Yes," she finally forced out. "I worked for a gentleman in upstate New York for a while."

Stop! Stop it! His hands slid further – Tiesa winced. Stop thinking about it…she came back to the moment just as Alfred said something. She shook her head slightly, clearing her thoughts. Task at hand, task at hand…

"Sorry," Tiesa apologized. "What was that?"

"You don't steal things, do you?" Alfred was focused on the pen again – he hadn't noticed her little episode. "I gotta ask – old man says I have too."

"Oh…," had she ever stolen anything? There had been a few times…when she and Felicja had needed food…but she had only taken when and what she needed, and never, ever taken personal belongings or things of value. "No, I've never stolen anything," Tiesa answered.

"I'll take your word for it," Alfred put the writing instrument and paper in his pocket, and took his feet off the desk. He leaned forward, looking at her intently. Tiesa stared right back, a slightly pinkish tint spreading across her cheeks. Why is he looking at me like that?

But his closeness let Tiesa truly take in his attractiveness. She subtly leaned back in her chair, trying to put add an extra few inches to the feet between their faces. She kept her gaze locked with his – they look so blue…

Then Alfred sat up straight, grinning mirthfully from ear to ear. "You know what, Tori? I like you. You're hired."

"I - I am?"

"Sure! Come on – I'll show you around, and then you can decided whether you want to stay Casa de Jones or not," he got up and waltzed out of the room, Tiesa scurrying to catch up.

Well, he says I can have the job if I want…but do I?

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

You know, she's not that bad looking, Alfred thought to himself as he led Tori around his expansive house, so lushly and expensively furnished. "And this is the upstairs guest bathroom," he swung a door open to reveal a huge bathtub accompanied by a sink and a toilet.

"You wouldn't have to clean this room too often – besides after parties and stuff," he closed the door. Tiesa stood beside him, wide-eyed and very quiet. She only interjected every now-and-then to ask a question like "What's this room?" or to compliment the décor.

She seems a little introverted and jumpy, though. Yet, Alfred was intrigued. Tori hadn't responded to any of his advances…or pick-up lines, at least. The thing he said about her name usually elicited a giggle from most women…maybe she's just not into me. That kind of bugged him; everyone was into Alfred – even a few men he knew…not that he'd ever go and do stuff like that, of course.

He didn't believe that Tori was her real name for a second, especially after she told him her surname. Lorenaytay…what a mouthful…do you think I spelled it right? Probably should've asked. And then there was her accent – slight, but definitely there, like she'd been speaking English for a while. He could not pin it for the life of him.

It's definitely not French or Italian…if I didn't know better, I'd say it sounded kind of Russian.

"How did you get here?" he asked as they walked down the stairs – he'd shown her the second floor first. "I didn't see any car in the drive other than Irene's."

"I, uh…I walked. After hitchhiking for a bit…," she shrugged her shoulders, as if walking ten miles was not a big deal.

"You walked? Wow, Tori…you must really want this job!" she smiled modestly in response.

They came to the kitchen. "This room will be of particular interest to you," he said, leading her into a cozy little room beside the pantry. "This is where you'll sleep – look, you even get your own bathroom!" He turned to Tori, and noticed that she looked a little worried.

"What – too small?"

"No! Oh no, it's nothing like that," she said. "I just didn't know I'd be…living here…"

"Just think of the benefits," he told her. "I'm going to be paying you this time around, not my father – which means you'll get a bigger paycheck. Also, you get to eat my food and stuff, I don't really care. Just be sure to keep the place clean and you're golden." I gotta get her to say yes…

He hadn't been expecting a response to his ad so quickly, but wouldn't it be sweet revenge if he could call his father and tell him he'd filled the position in one day?

Pop never would've been able hire a replacement in such a short amount of time…

"So, Tori - whad'ya think?" he spread his arms wide in a welcoming gesture, putting on his most winning smile. Tori responded by biting her lip and clasping her hands – she looked deep in thought.

"I'll have to think about it…"

Damn!

"Alright," Alfred said amiably, but inside his heart was sinking. Maybe I won't be able to best Pop…and loose the opportunity for a hot housekeeper, too. But still, he kept a wide grin on his face.

"When you decide, just call this number…," he withdrew the paper with her name on it from his pocket, as well as the pen. He tore off a small section, and wrote the house's phone number on it.

"Here," he handed it to her, and Tori pocketed it in turn. He walked her to the front door, and opened it for her.

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," she smiled, and it made her look gorgeous in Alfred's opinion. "I appreciate you taking the time to interview me, and show me around your lovely home."

"Anytime…just be sure to call me back, even if you don't want the job."

She bowed her head, smiled again, and then walked out onto the porch and down the cobblestone drive. Alfred covertly watched her walk away from the window.

That babe has no idea what she's got goin' on…he though longingly, watching her coat sway around her knees with the rhythm of her hips. He turned from the window, and plopped down on a near-by couch. He closed his eyes…thinking about the events of the day and the ones yet to come.

Pop comes home Wednesday and then there's that stupid thing with General Hugh's and what's-her-face on Thursday…gonna need to gas the car up…

Alfred's eyes snapped open, and he sat up as he realized. "Shit!" he exclaimed. "I should've called a taxi for Tori!"

(A/N) And chapter two is a wrap…oh Alfred…you and your last-minute (or rather, too late) realizations! We get Tiesa's side of things in the next chapter, as well as Felicja's reaction to Tiesa's job, and Alfred has dinner with Arthur, General Hughes, and Josie Hughes…and gets a big surprise…

Also, I'm so amazed my stories are getting talked about on skype...it makes me feel so famous! *gets shot*

Tune in next time! ~ V.o.t.s.