Mary's eyes slowly adjust to the assault of light coming from inside the open door. She immediately plastered a large, opened mouthed smile across her face, and adjusted her body to its fullest height, hoping to portray a confidence that she did not feel.
"Hello," said a disembodied voice to the doors immediate left. The voice belonged to a young female, and as Mary's pupils finally adjusted to the brightness, the dark, blurred outline of the person holding the door open to her finally came into focus. The voice belonged to a tiny, blonde haired woman who stood just inside the doorway wearing a black long sleeved tee, faded boot-cut jeans, and Nike running shoes. Gazing upon this woman, who could only be slightly older she was, Mary no longer felt so entirely out of place. The woman must have been Mrs. Crawley because Mary was sure that the woman she had done her primary interview with was much older. Mrs. Crawley had a small but warm smile on her face and was looking at Mary expectantly. It was then that Mary realized that she hadn't returned the woman's greeting.
Hoping that not too much time had passed, Mary responded with a rather rushed and fairly loud, "Hello." Mary took in an exasperated breath, mentally telling herself to steady her voice, held out her hand and continued, "I'm Mary Crawley and it's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Crawley."
The woman in front of her burst into laughter at Mary's greeting, and immediately looked over her shoulder to someone behind her, deeper inside the penthouse. This sudden outburst stopped Mary in her tracks. She dropped her outstretched arm and flexed her fingers feeling as if they were all made of lead. At first she was stunned into silence, but she swiftly recovered by chuckling a little along with the woman, as if she was in on her joke. Mary was still standing in the doorway and tried to lean around the laughing woman to get a glimpse of whoever was behind her. Mary caught a brief glance of an older looking woman, dressed similarly to the woman in front of her, before she stood straight again.
After several uncomfortable moments for Mary, the mystery woman's hysterical laughter calmed to just a few low, dispersed chuckles. "I'm sorry but what a laugh," the woman said to a bewildered Mary. She continued with a huge smile on her face, "Me, Mr. Crawley's wife…" again looking to the woman behind her, "Ha…what an idea," she then finished her joke with a few final chuckles. The woman must have seen the obvious confusion and anxiety on Mary's face and apologized, "I am truly sorry. I'm Anna." She stretched out her arm to shake Mary's trembling and, hopefully not too clammy, hand. Anna continued explaining, "I'm one of Mr. Crawley's housekeepers." She then stepped further to the side, smiled welcomingly, held the heavy looking door open wider, and beckoned to Mary, "Please do come in."
Mary said a soft thank you and stepped inside the enormous room. Her eyes were assaulted once more, though this time not from brightness, from the sheer grandeur of the room she found herself in and its accompanying view. The walls were made nearly entirely of glass that stretched from its polished wooden floors to its fifteen-foot high ceilings. The glass walls made for a picturesque view of Lake Michigan as it lay, stretched, aqua-blue against the horizon for as far as her eyes could see. At this height, clearly seeing how enormous the body of water was, Mary questioned that she was looking at a land-locked lake. Surely, this enormous mass of water, dotted with hundreds of sailboats, must be an undiscovered ocean. Mary idly wondered if she could name it since she was the one to discover it. From her depth inside the penthouse she was only able to see the lake and the bright clear sky above it freckled with the occasional thin, wispy cloud, but she knew, if she were to get closer to the windows and look down by her feet, she would see the green vastness that is both Millennium and Grant Park, filled on this beautiful Saturday with families, friends, lovers, and pets.
Knowing that she only had a few more moments before Anna would expect to get on with the purpose of her being there, Mary tore her eyes from the view out the window to drink in the room she stood in. This one space was easily twice the size of her entire apartment, and Mary soon realized its vastness was because this room, which looked to be both a living and entertaining area, stretched the entire eastern side of The Pearl of whatever floor in the sky she was on. Another sudden, albeit obvious, realization hit Mary, 'these people owned an entire floor in a Chicago skyscraper, and they just slept and ate in it.' She chuckled softly at her awful joke.
From where she stood, just inside the doors entrance, the great expanse of the room was laid before her. To her right was a series of couches and chairs arranged in a square around a shiny black, ping-pong sized coffee table on which laid a brushed-metal sculpture that looked to be a female form holding child form, though it was hard to be certain given its abstract design and her distance from it. The chairs and couches were low to the floor and block shaped, with angular, hard lines. They were all a dark, charcoal grey and had a variety of green and deep purple throw pillows placed on them in a haphazard but pleasing way. The furniture was modern and elegant but did not strike Mary as being either very welcoming or comfortable. She compared them to the large couch that Edith and Sybil had bought for their apartment last summer, and how, when Mary saw it sitting in a dusty corner of the stores sales floor, she felt the immediate desire to curl up on its dark leather and take a nap. The Crawley's grey, block furniture did not recreate those warm and fuzzy feelings in Mary, but perhaps, she reasoned, that was the exact desired affect. Deeper into the right side of the room, placed in the southeastern corner of the glass walls, was a polished black, Grand piano. It was arranged in a way so that the player, when he or she sat down at its bench, would have an unblocked view of Lake Michigan. This image did elicit a very deep and alluring desire within Mary. She wanted to run a hand across its lid to judge its polish and see if the finish was truly as perfect as it appeared to be. She wanted to feel the cool ivory beneath her fingers and play a composition that would enlighten the hearts of thousands, because what else but true, heavenly beauty could come from such an instrument while it was placed in such a setting.
The room was divided down the middle by a black marble, double-sided, gas burning fireplace and another, though vastly larger, brushed metal sculpture. The piece was sat upon a two-foot tall black marble pedestal and was, undoubtedly, a rendering of the female form. The sculpture was about the same size as Mary and looked to be made out of one single, long piece of metal that was shaped, lengthened, and turned back on itself in a series of angles and bends to create the an obvious depiction of a female in mid-stride. A single spotlight, hung from the ceiling, casting a light that added even greater depth to its already three-dimensional form. This statue and the one of the coffee table were breath taking and obviously made by the same, extremely gifted, artist but all Mary could really think of was how easily a playing five-year old could hit her head on its corners.
The left, northeastern side, of the massive room was centered around a gorgeous billiards table. It had polished, thick wooden legs, and a wine red, velvet top. Mary was sure that this table, a board game for adults really, was twice as expensive as her first…and second cars combined. Set in the corner was a stunning, all wooden bar that made the tavern she most often frequented, Bates' Pub, look like a dive. She was sure John would sell his soul to have his bar look half as good as the Crawley's did. It was at least twelve feet long and though Mary couldn't see that was stored on the other side, she was sure it held a variety of wines and liquors that she would never have the pleasure, or corresponding bank account, to taste. There were six high top chairs sat in front of the bar's glossy wooden frame, and each chair was cushioned with the same wine colored velvet that adorned the billiards table. Mary even noticed a small virtual poker game at the far left end of the bar, and absentmindedly wondered if it accepted anything smaller than one hundred dollar bills. She doubted that her thirteen dollars in cash would go very far.
Taking in the room and all of its refined glory, Mary couldn't help the small, breathless, "Wow," that escaped her lips. After all, she had seen only one-forth of this castle in the sky.
"I know," Anna responded just as breathlessly. Mary turned her head and watched as Anna drank in the beauty of the atmosphere. Anna's eyes slowly wandered across the space before her, occasionally focusing on something for the briefest of moments, before moving on. Once she had looked her fill, Anna turned back to Mary and gave her a small, embarrassed smile and a slight shrug of her right shoulder. For some reason, it comforted Mary to know that working in this atmosphere of extreme wealth and visual beauty had not, yet, left Anna jaded.
Suddenly, Mary heard the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere to her left. The heavy footsteps, making their way towards the large living room in which she stood, soon became accompanied by a disembodied, male voice. Mary could not make out what was being said but the sound of the voice demanded her attention. It was low, rich, and devastatingly smooth. The pitch and tenor of the voice was like an old song, and Mary was instantly transported back to a time when her life was endlessly more carefree. It was the kind of voice that belonged in luxury car commercials or narrating a James Bond book. Mary, Anna, and the unknown older woman, all turned to look in the direction of the footfalls and deep murmurings, growing closer and closer with each passing second.
Then, stepping out from behind an unseen opening in the back interior wall to the far left, a man emerged clutching a cell phone to his right ear. He must not have noticed the three women standing the room he had just entered, because he immediately turned his back to them and looked out the glass windows facing northern city skyline, silently listening to whomever was on the other side of the line.
'So this was Mr. Crawley,' Mary thought to herself. She surmised that he was just over six foot tall and, though she had only briefly glanced the right side of his face, easily under the age of thirty. Mary was surprised to find that a multi-millionaire would wear his hair in such a tousled manner. His thick, dirty blonde hair was parted to the side and slightly slicked back, but it still hung lose in a way that made it look like it was still soft and pliable. Mary's suspicions were confirmed as he raised his unoccupied left hand and brushed his fingers back across his scalp in a slightly exasperated fashion. The hair underneath his hand rippled and waved easily, but went back to where it originally laid after the pass of his fingers. However, his hair was the only thing Mary could notice on him that seemed to have an air of carelessness. He wore a deep black suit that Mary could tell, just by looking at the back of, was tailor made just for him. No doubt it was Versace or Ralph Lauren. His black dress shoes were perfectly polished, and surely, as Mary noticed him tapping his right foot impatiently, also made, one of a kind, just for his millionaire feet. Once more he raised his left hand to make another pass through his hair. This time, Mary noticed he wore a beautifully made, large faced, silver…no…surely all white gold watch, which slid slightly down his wrist as he reached up to his scalp. Mary was busy deciding whether the background of the watch's face was a light blue or silver, when he suddenly pivoted on his right foot to face the three women.
Mary let a small, inaudible gasp as Mr. Crawley immediately locked eyes with her. Her dark brown eyes fixed on his, crystal blue. He started at her so intently that Mary felt as if she should look away, shamed by his direct stare, but found that she was unable to sever the connection. His glare was hard and intense; her stare was direct and eager. Even, if she could look away from his face, Mary was undoubtedly sure that she did not want to. There was something in his expression that she recognized in her own reflection occasionally. Was it pain? Insecurity? Unfulfillment? A lack of passion? She drank in his face hungrily, wanting to discover the emotion at play behind it. There had to be at least thirty feet separating them, but the short distance made no difference on the intensity with which they gazed upon one another. While locked in his stare, Mary was sure that the world could crumble into ruins, the oceans could run dry, or the floor under her feet could fall out beneath her, and she would not notice until the final blow was struck. His mouth opened slightly as his jaw relaxed under her gaze, and, a moment later, as if speaking directly to Mary across the room, he let out a clear, and confidant, "Yes." He exhaled completely as he spoke the word, so it felt as if it were a sweet caress. That he spoke made only a small impression on Mary as his icy blue eyes still bore deeply into hers, as if searching for the start of her soul.
Then, as quickly as his eyes had found hers in the vast room, he broke the connection, turned his head slightly, and looked at the ground to his right. The movement looked is if were done out of shame and Mary felt an overwhelming sadness in the pit of her stomach. At the sudden lose of this gaze, Mary blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear something that had clouded her vision, and took in several choked breaths. Had the floor fallen out from under her after all? Just then Mary remembered that Mr. Crawley was on a cell-phone and was only answering the person on the other side of the line. How stupid she felt. She must have surely been imagining the intensity behind his stare. Mary cast her eyes down to her feet and felt her face burn hotly. She heard Mr. Crawley utter a few more things in to his cell phone, and, just as Mary lifted her head to look at him once more, he turned and left the room through the same way he had entered. As a last resort, with a breaking heart, she desperately tried to listen to his descending footsteps. Tragically though, she only heard them grow fainter and fainter the further and further he walked away from her.
Mary suddenly felt like leaving too, not out of shame for staring at him so boldly or sadness at his absence, but just because she felt that there was simply no point in staying. Whatever the ethereal bond was that held her there, tying her to the spot, it had suddenly vanished and Mary realized that she should go to.
"I guess I should introduce myself." A voice broke threw Mary's reverie, and she suddenly remembered exactly why she was there. She was interviewing for a nanny position, and it was a job that that she desperately needed. The introduction came from the other unknown woman standing slightly behind Anna. She looked to be in her early fifties, was just as short as Anna, and wore her graying brown hair short, and curled against her head. She stepped forward, held out her hand, and said, "Though I guess we have already talked. I'm Elsie Hughes, Mr. Crawley's other housekeeper."
Recovering her composure quickly, Mary gave her a beaming smile, hoping that it masked the emptiness she was feeling in her chest, and shook her hand firmly while replying, "It's a pleasure to meet you," why did she sound so breathless, "both of you," Mary added while meeting Anna's eyes again. Both women gave her matching, small smiles and Mary suddenly hoped that the two women had not witness what had just transpired moments ago between herself and owner of this small palace. Mary felt her cheeks warm again at the impossibility of that wish. Surely they felt the searing heat radiating off of her body, while locked in their employer's eyes. However, both Anna's and Ms. Hughes' kind smiles betrayed nothing of the sort.
Ms. Hughes continued by saying, "Why don't you follow us into the kitchen and we can discuss a few important details before we show you the rest of the house and before you meet Ms. Quinn." Mary suddenly snapped back into a business like demeanor and nodded wide-eyed at Ms. Hughes. "Its just right around the corner," and she and Anna turned to the left and starting walking in the direction of where the man had stood just a few moments before. Mary quickly followed them; silently hoping that the man would be around the corner so she could look at him again. Mary quickly chased that thought away and instead reminded herself to not be upset if this arrangement didn't work out. If this wasn't something she was suppose to do, then everything would work out for the best in the end.
They turned a corner to the left of the billiards table and walked into another large and glorious room. This space held a twelve-person dinning room table made of a dark, nearly black wood. It had a matte finish and had a long silver table runner running down its center, stretching from end to end. In the middle of the table was another sculpture of the same design, though this one was the rendering of a man sitting cross-legged. On the opposite wall, running parallel to the table was a painting that spanned three separate canvases. The image was of a section of large forest filled with many leafless trees. The skeleton white frames of the painted trees were sat against a red, silver, and black background, arranging from left to right. Mary found the image to be tragically beautiful, and decided that, even though the image was striking, she would not want such a depressing image to adorn her walls.
They quickly walked through the dinning room and into a large, well lit corridor that got progressively darker the further back it went. Mary soon realized that the first part of the hallway was so well lit because, all along the right side, large chunks of the wall had been taken out to create a more open floor plan. Anna and Ms. Hughes, still leading Mary, took the first right that the corridor offered and they all emerged into an enormous kitchen. Mary knew that this was the type of kitchen that would make the finest chefs in Chicago green with jealousy. The floor was composed of a dark grey tile and, dominating the seen, was a black granite island, which was easily the size of a queen-sized bed, lined with four high top chairs. On the right edge of the island was a large double bin sink, easily deep and wide enough to wash a medium sized dog in. The glass wall that ran along the back, northern side of the kitchen was unblocked, leaving a breathtaking view of the northern part of the city. Mary wondered if she could see her Lincoln Park apartment from this vantage point. Along the wall to the right was a variety of upper and lower, dark wooden cabinets which held who knows what types of goodies and gadgets. The kitchen's counter was a large, undisturbed strip of the same black granite that adorned the island and Mary was sure that she would easily be able to see her refection in the polished stone. The darkness of the cabinets were occasionally broken up by a variety of stainless steal appliances, which included a double oven, a six-range stove, and a refrigerator that was large enough to hold several month's worth of food.
The kitchen's left side was open and looked into a slightly smaller, though it was still larger than any one room in Mary's apartment, and more cozy family room. The tile ceased at the edge of the kitchen and this room's floor was covered in a soft white carpet. The room was decorated with an oversized black leather sectional and two matching leather Lazy-Boy chairs. It was in this room that Mary saw the first evidence that a child lived there. There was Disney princess coloring book and a box of sixty-four crayons, most of which were out of the box, laying on the floor in front of the couch. All of the furniture was faced towards the western wall and Mary quickly discovered why. Hung just above eye level on the far wall was an enormous flat screen television. Its screen was unlit but Mary still found herself staring at it as if it were on. Edith would salivate over such a piece of technology. To the far right of the TV were several built-in bookshelves, which were adorned with several small picture frames, a scattering of books, and several white rose filled vases, which gave the room a pleasing, floral scent. The room's back, glass wall still offered an undisturbed, breathtaking view of the northern part of the city.
Ms. Hughes indicated one of the high-topped chairs around the island and said to Mary, "Why don't you have a set and we chat for a bit." Mary thanked her, slung her bag over her head and placed it on the island, drug out a chair, and took a seat. As she was crossing her right leg over her left, both Anna and Mrs. Hughes each drug their own chairs around the other corner of the island from where Mary was sitting. When they sat down, they were still close to Mary but across from her so that it would be easier to converse. Ms. Hughes, making herself comfortable in her set, address Mary by saying, "Obviously Mr. Crawley will have the final say in whether or not you get the position, but he wanted us to talk to you a bit, and explain the situation of the job."
"Okay," answered Mary politely, though she was confused by what Ms. Hughes meant in saying 'the situation of the job'. Mary was there to be the nanny. That seemed pretty straightforward. Of course every set of parents differed slightly in expectations, values, and monitoring, but the situation of every job she had held before then didn't vary that much.
Ms. Hughes turned to Anna and began by asking, "I guess we should start by explaining who we are and what we do." Anna nodded in agreement and Ms. Hughes, turned back to address Mary, "I've been working for Mr. Crawley for about five years. I cleaned and cooked for he and his wife at their old house in Oak Park. Anna here…" pointing a thumb in Anna's direction, "came on about three years ago, once the family moved to The Pearl. Since then we have been splitting the household duties." Mary noticed Anna's eyes were looking at the counter in front of her, without really seeing it. She was dazed, thinking of something else, and Mary had notice Anna's eyes widen and her brow crinkle up when Ms. Hughes said 'household duties.' Ms. Hughes continued, "Mr. Crawley was kind enough to procure Anna and I a shared residence in an apartment downstairs."
"So we can be there in the same minute that he wants us," Anna sarcastically cut across Ms. Hughes explanation. Ms. Hughes gave Anna a slight look of disappointment that read 'please not now in front of a new prospect.' Anna quickly recovered explaining to Mary, "I'm sorry. I don't want to sound ungrateful, Mr. Crawley has been a very generous employer and he notices and respects those that work hard, but it's hard to enjoy his generosity when you work about fourteen hours nearly everyday of the week." She leaned closer to Mary and said in a quitter tone, "My bank account in loaded, but I haven't been able to spend it on anything but take-out for the past 6 months." She paused for a moment and looked down at her hands in her lap. "He's a good man and I enjoy my job…but I'm only twenty-six…I just want to have a life…friends…a boyfriend." She looked up and met Mary's eyes briefly before turning her head to Ms. Hughes. "I'm sorry Elsie…please continue and don't mind me." Anna quieted and again looked at the counter top.
"Yes, well anyway…"Ms. Hughes continued with a tone that conveyed a bit of embarrassment at Anna's confession, "If you get the job, you'll be seeing a lot of Anna and I. As she pointed out…" Mary looked to Anna, "we do spend a lot of time here. We are in charge of doing all of the housekeeping, so cleaning and doing basic upkeep, and we handle most of the cooking as well, which also includes doing the shopping. Every once in a while, Mr. Crawley will host dinner parties, and for those occasions, Beryl Patmore, a chef from The Black Pearl restaurant on the 50th floor, will come up with some staff to cook and serve the meal." Ms. Hughes completed her explanation with a small nod, but quickly continued on to her next topic. "Now," She address Mary and asked, "What do you know about this family?" At this, Anna finally raised her head to look at Mary.
"Absolutely nothing really," Mary responded truthfully. "I know that we are not related, but that's it."
At this, Ms. Hughes laughed quietly, "That's true. Once Mr. Crawley received your resume from the agency, he did a little research to make sure that you were not of any relation." She must have seen the slight confusion on Mary's face because she quickly explained, "When you have as much money and resources as Mr. Crawley has, employing a relative becomes a very sticky business. Despite the best intentions of everyone involved, something always happens, and holidays become very uncomfortable affairs." Mary understood completely. Her father had once employed his nephew, Patrick, to help him run the farm. Patrick started out as the ideal employee but after a month or two he started coming in late and doing subpar work. Her father eventually had to fire him, and his brother, Mary's uncle, no matter how justified the firing was, still holds it against him.
"Well," Ms. Hughes continued, "let's just start, with Mr. Crawley's business shall we?" She settled deeper into her chair and Mary mirrored her action. "Though Mr. Crawley has made the bulk of his money in hedge fun investment, and don't bother asking us what that means because neither one of us really knows, he got his start in corporate law." Mary saw Anna turn slightly in her chair and cast her gaze out to the city skyline, no doubt, having heard this story too many times. Ms. Hughes gave her no notice and pressed on, "He grew up in Downer's Grove in a well-off middle class family." Mary found that to be interesting information. He had the same economic background as she did. "Mr. Crawley went to Northwestern for both undergrad and law school, graduating both in a total of six years."
'Very impressive,' Mary thought, 'so he had to work hard for what he had.'
Ms. Hughes persisted, "So he had graduated law school by 23, and started working for the Murray Firm right out of school. He worked his way up through the firm quickly and by the time he turned 25 had already made his first couple million."
She paused suddenly and looked away from Mary gathering her thoughts. "I guess I should include that he meet his wife, Lavina, in his last year of law school and the two married within the same year." She then quickly added, as if it were a side note and of little importance, "Around the end of his first year at the firm, the two bought a home in Oak Park and brought me on to care for it. Anyway..." she continued as if she were getting back to the crucial point, "They quickly became pregnant and in the fall of the same year they were married, their daughter Quinn was born." At this Ms. Hughes gave a small, sweet smile as if she were remembering a period of happiness in a dark past. She spoke on, speaking slower than she had before, "Mr. Crawley is an extremely hard worker and is incredibly intelligent. He was on the winning side on several enormous cases, the types of cases were billions of dollars are at stake, and was thus rewarded handsomely. Therefore, by the time he was 26, he had the means to start making his money work for him," She spoke more quickly now, "and thus his love affair with hedge funds began." Both Anna and Ms. Hughes laughed at this statement and the former shook her head in an exasperated manner.
Anna finally spoke, and she concluded the brief history of the Crawley family by saying, "Hundreds of millions of dollars later, they moved into The Pearl, hired me, and the rest is…" gesturing to the room around them, "history." Both Anna and Ms. Hughes chuckled quietly at Anna's joke.
Mary nodded her head slowly, portraying to them that she both understood the account and was amazed by it. She leaned back further in her chair, let out an astonished breath, and stared out the window at the expanse of the city skyline. She had always considered herself to be a hard worker and was proud of all that she had accomplished, but she now considered her accolades to be laughable. By the time Mr. Crawley was her age, he had already had a couple million lining his pockets.
"Does he still practice law?" Mary asked, turning her gaze back to the women sitting in front of her.
At this, Anna and Ms. Hughes locked eyes, and the demeanor of the room shifted instantly from one of cheerful, jovialness to being one of anguish and distress. After a moments pause that was heavy with anticipation, Ms. Hughes hesitantly explained, "Mr. Crawley keeps himself very occupied…he hardly ever rests…so yes, he still practices even though he doesn't need to."
There was another moment's pause, heavy with hidden meaning, and Mary found her head buzzing with a thousand questions. However, all of her queries were answered with Anna's corresponding statement. Anna spoke to directly to Ms. Hughes in a hushed tone, as if she forgot that Mary was in the room, "I think he likes to stay busy… so he won't have time to think of her." Ms. Hughes nodded in agreement and turned to look out widows at the city skyline, tears brimming on her eyes. With that, Mary suddenly understood exactly why she was there. She understood the source of pain she had seen in his eyes.
Mary's mind was racing but her body was on autopilot, so, even though she already knew the answer, she couldn't stop the whispered question that left her lips, "So he won't have time to think of whom?" She stared at her purse in front of her without seeing it; bracing herself for the response she knew was coming.
Mary heard the house creak in the heavy pause that filled he room. Were they breathing? Was she breathing? Did the world stop turning? Did everyone stop what they were doing to hear the answer that Mary already knew? It was Anna who broke through the thick silence and finally answered Mary's question, "Well, that's one of the main reasons that Mr. Crawley is looking for a caretaker for Quinn…you see…" Anna paused and looked at Ms. Hughes, who nodded for her to continue, even though she was still staring out the window, "Mrs. Crawley…Lavina…became sick and died three years ago…She was only 26 and Quinn…was only two."