My PM keeps giving me an error, so for the reader who asked, the link is right next to the picture at the top left of the screen, just click on hummeldoll and you'll see all of them.


After you empty the dishwasher, Maria instructed Anna, you can start on the third floor bedrooms. I want all the floors vacuumed today. Later, we'll take down all the drapes in the parlor and the den. Tomorrow afternoon, we'll steam the carpets in the second floor bedrooms.

And you Miranda, she turned to the other maid. You can help Miss Babette with her dressing room. She hasn't unpacked everything yet. More of her belongings arrived on Saturday, so…... Maria said, eyeing the hallway's grandfather clock, once she wakes up, you can go in there and start. Mr Bruce already drove to work with his father. Mr Roger just left also. And Mrs Patman…Maria turned to Anna again and gave her a warning look.

Don't even think of going into her bedroom before she gets ready and comes down for breakfast. You can start now with tidying Mr Roger's room. You can help her Miranda, until Miss Babette wakes up….

Anna rolled her eyes as she left the kitchen and moved up the back stairs and towards Roger's bedroom. She was in no mood for the noise of the vacuum cleaner, especially this early on a Monday morning.

Miranda had been given the much better duty today. Well…..it figured. Miranda had been working in the home for fifteen years now. It shouldn't come as a surprise that Maria trusted her to cater to the newest member of the family. Miranda could always pull rank and order Anna around if she wanted to. Although… she was pleasant enough to work with, and they got along pretty well.

And, despite Maria's stern warnings, Miranda was always eager to trade stories about the members of the family. Like that juicy bit that Miranda shared about the time a few years ago….. when Mr Hank's father died and Mr Hank and Mrs Marie got into a huge fight about his will. That was last year after Anna gleefully informed her about the special "barbecue" that Mrs Marie set up in Mr Hank's honor. And the reason she set it up too!

She opened the door of Roger's room, and Anna noted that there wasn't much to be done. Mr Roger always made his own bed, and made an effort to keep his room neat and tidy. She went through the dressing room and into the bathroom and started spraying the tub while Miranda folded fresh laundry.

Mr Roger is a nice young man, Miranda started, while she opened a drawer and placed some polo shirts on top of a neat pile. I'm going to miss him when he moves. I remember when he first moved into this house. Mr Hank told me to unpack his clothes. He barely had enough to fill just one drawer. He only had one small suitcase. And his clothes… some of them had holes. And not for fashion like young people wear these days. The holes were there because his clothes were worn and old…

Yeah, he's really nice, Anna agreed, thinking of Roger's grey eyes with it's pale ring of gold in the center. She wiped the tub with a sheet of paper towel till it shone. Mr Bruce is nice too.

Mr Bruce? Miranda snorted, trying not to laugh. She picked up a clothes brush from the bed.

He's uhhh well, he's something alright.

Mr Bruce had come from France, seemingly with a more mature attitude than when he left. He had inquired about her family, her two sons, even her health. Things that he never gave a moment of thought before.

But she wondered how long that was going to last. Leopards never changed their spots. Mr Bruce had always been the boy who never made his own bed, never picked up his own clothes, never said thank you. He always had to have the newest toy, the best tennis coach, and then, and as he grew older, the prettiest girl in the back seat of his car. Although… how he ever fit them into the cramped space was still a mystery.

She had turned her eyes away when he was fifteen, and she started seeing him sneaking girls in and out of his bedroom, and she said nothing when, after he got his license, he would swipe a bottle of wine from the cellar and drive off in his black Porsche. She couldn't help but compare and contrast the two handsome young men who lived in this grand home. Bruce had been given a silver spoon and a fat piggy bank from birth, while Roger, in his younger years, was lucky if his drunk stepfather could stay off the bottle long enough to help pay rent for the three room dive he grew up in on the bad side of town.

Miranda was thoughtful, as she went on to brushing Roger's slacks. Ever since he had arrived, perhaps eight years ago, Roger was a bit of a calming and definitely positive force in this house. Especially….especially now with the ongoing tension between Mr Hank and Mrs Marie. It didn't make for a happy situation, for employers to set a frosty atmosphere in a household such as this one.

Miranda had the feeling, despite Sweet Valley's sunny forecast, that a hurricane was brewing. And it's epicenter was situated right here, in the Patman's red brick Georgian home. Mr Roger would be moving lower down the hill after he got married. It wasn't too far, just a few houses away. Every time Mrs Marie mentioned Roger's leaving, or his fiancee for that matter, her expression would sour as if she smelled a rat. The Patmans' servants didn't quite know how to treat Miss Lila Fowler. On one hand, they took their cues from their employers, to look down their noses at people like Lila, who was clearly an undesirable.

On the other hand, it was obvious that Roger, who treated them nicer than anyone else in the house, was smitten with the young woman. So they were more than cordial whenever she came around, and sufficiently aloof whenever Mrs Patman had Lila's name on her lips.

Miranda looked down at the shirts she was hanging and wondered why she was even bothering with them. All these clothes, that she was now putting away, she'd probably have to take them out and pack them soon enough. Perhaps as early as Friday. But Maria hadn't given her the instructions….yet.

For now, her main job now was to make Miss Babette as comfortable and welcome as possible. She finished the clothes, straightened the already made bed, and turned down the hall to see if her new mistress was awake…..


Babette stretched her slim arms over her head as a knock rapped on her bedroom door.

Come in, she said, as she yawned and flicked on the television.

Good Morning Miss Babette, the maid greeted as she walked into the room.

Bonjour, Babette nodded in return as she concentrated on the screen playing "Wake up Sweet Valley," where the host talked about the celebrities who were expected to attended the Sunset Strip's hottest nightclub's anniversary bash.

Mrs Patman told me to tell you that Jeeves will drive you to the country club around eleven, Miranda interrupted. I've already washed and ironed the tennis dress you'll be wearing for the match.

Merci, Babette replied to Miranda, who entered the dressing room and started opening her newly arrived trunks. Today she'd be going to the Valley country club with Marie and her friends. Something about a charity tennis match. Babette was fond enough of tennis, and while still in France, Bruce had proven to be more than a good player.

But she couldn't imagine anything more dull than spending all day with her mother in law and her stuffy, over middle aged friends. Babette wanted action, and not the type to be had on a tennis court. And she had done more than her share of charity work while a student at St Bernadette's Convent near Saussan.

Helping others was not one of Babette's priorities. Her world turned black after her mother had been cruelly taken away from her, and she seldom shed tears for anyone but herself. Except…..Babette reminisced….when she was sixteen, one of her school's faith missions had proven to be the most significant event in all her life.

She liked watching the morning shows, although sometimes she couldn't keep up with the lingo. Her English was improving, especially from watching The Young and the Beautiful, Dallas, and Falcon Crest while still in France. When she had first met Bruce, she had liked him right away. He was handsome, rich, and most importantly, an American.

Babette had once traveled to New York City as a youngster, and no other country appealed to her as much as the United States. While watching her favorite television shows, she had decided that she wanted to be a famous actress, and what better place to do that than in California? Like a gift from heaven, Bruce had practically fallen into her lap. He fell in love with her immediately, and pretty much worshiped her from the day they met. And that…she liked very much!

Despite their wealth, her childhood had been bleak. Her overly puritanical and religious father had put her in convent schools after her mother died in a hiking accident. Babette had only been five years old, and from then on, she had been mostly raised by nuns. She would go home on holidays, and it was only when she was home in their isolated chateau that she got a chance to watch television. And only when her Papa was not at home.

He considered his daughter's choice in American drama shows to be immoral and degenerate, just like the people who made and acted in them. Sometimes it seemed that her father could barely look at her... she reminded him too much of her dead mother. It was a miracle when he actually agreed to allow her to marry Bruce. She had graduated at eighteen, and gone back home to a father who was determined to push her in the direction of their next door neighbor, Antoine Faucher. But she could never marry Antoine. A life with him would have been even worse than one with her father. Antione's family was even more pious than her own. They even had their own chapel on their estate!

Besides... her heart lay elsewhere. Babette sighed dreamily. She had first met him at the École pour délinquant, a home for wayward, criminally inclined young men. She and her school mates had gone there to pray with the boys, most of them from broken homes, some of them already hardened into felons.

They wrote letters to each other throughout the years, ones that were void of passion, because it was well known that the nuns, as well as his wardens, were free to read them. She had graduated from the convent, and he was released from the school, and they quickly became lovers. Babette had shared her heart and her soul for the first time in her life.

And then…..he had gotten arrested, this time, for being involved in a money laundering operation. He was sentenced for ten years, and Babette's heart had died. She frequently imbibed on wine, took several other men to her bed, all unbeknownst to her father, but never had any desire to go further into a relationship with any of them. She had become numb, and her father assumed it was because she didn't want to marry Antoine.

Well, he was right, she didn't, but she had resigned herself to becoming his wife. It would be good for their families, joining their vineyards and their fortunes, making them all richer. She was going to agree. To make her father happy. That is…..until she met Bruce. The sexy American stranger with the light blue eyes and hopeless command of French, represented escape, a release into a new life, a new country, the land of opportunity, where the streets were paved with gold and dreams still came true.

She thought of her new circumstances and her new family. Hank and Marie liked her well enough, they thought her French heritage was a good addition to their bloodline. And they certainly liked her inheritance. And Roger…..Babette giggled to herself. He was certainly cute. She liked the intensity of his grey eyes and the way the stubborn lock of dark hair kept falling over his forehead. For a few mornings, she had gotten up early to jog with him, and it was well worth it to admire his lean but not thin, nicely shaped legs in his running shorts. Babette pursed her lips thoughtfully.

It's just too bad he's almost married. To her… Not that marriage ever stopped me anyway…...

Her giggle turned into a frown of distaste. From the time she had arrived at their chateau, Lila looked like she was ready to scratch Babette's eyes out.

I'll be nice, Babette grinned to herself. I won't try to steal Roger….not yet anyway...

She got out of the bed, walked into the dressing room, passed by Miranda who was lining the drawers with cedar, and made her way to the bathroom. Marie Patman probably wanted company for breakfast. She again pondered her situation as she turned the tap in the shower. He'd never have her heart, but Bruce had proven to be a good lover, and, although Babette had had better, she was happy enough with his devotion and affections…. Her heart, her very essence for being alive was locked in a jail cell in the south of France. Bruce was a poor substitute, but he'd have to do...

For now...

Sweet Valley was a nice enough town, sleepier than she thought it would be, but according to Bruce, Hollywood was just over an hour away…...