Her cousin the lawyer called, asking where her weekly gripe about a divorce was. This was followed by another call from Ken saying their current real estate deal went up two million dollars, and, oh, could his dear wife and business partner come with him to negotiations next time? Finally, she got a call from her sister, coordinating their Christmas dinner at their parents’ house. Ken’s family was coming over... so were the sisters of Lana’s brother-in-law. For the first time in a long while, Lana would be surrounded by children, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
No thank you.
She would have to enjoy the peace now. She would also have to summon her driver one of these days and do some last minute Christmas shopping. Especially for those children. Sigh.
Toward the end of her stroll, she came upon Chloe, sitting on a bench in the sunlight. This wasn’t unusual, since the girl often took her breaks outside on nicer days, but today she held something in her hand.
That something was a large piece of Kenneth’s personal stationery. Easy to see that soft yellow even in the sunlight.
Chloe giggled at something written on the paper. Before she saw Lana approaching, the maid covered her mouth as a smile erupted on her stricken face. It was a face of adoration. Love.
Lana knew that face well. It made her stop in her steps and feel bile erupt in her throat. I knew it. She looked away as Chloe noticed her, furiously fighting to put the paper away in a purse she kept strapped around her chest.
“What do you have there?” Lana asked sweetly, taking her chances.
Chloe ran her fingers nervously through her hair. “Nothing special,” she replied much too quickly. “I mean…”
“Love letter from your boyfriend?”
The fake look of innocence dropped from Chloe’s mien. Instead, she paled, the winter sunshine sucking all color from her face. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she finally said. Yes, sweetie, I saw whose stationery you were perusing. Naughty girl.
“Too bad. Pretty girl like you should have a boyfriend around Christmas.”
“I’m going home to visit my parents anyway.”
“Aren’t we all?”
Lana took her leave, diverting from the main house to the kitchen wing nestled on the far west side of the property. Roberta was there, prepping ingredients for dinner. Looked like braised chicken and a vegetable medley.
“Ken will be home late,” Lana said, standing in front of the island counter stacked with fresh vegetables. Roberta, a stocky woman with a mean visage but a straightforward heart, sliced and diced as if it were second nature. It probably was, like buying and selling properties flowed in Lana’s blood. We all have our strengths. Wasn’t Lana’s fault that hers made her one of the richest women in the region – if not the richest. Not even fellow billionaire Kathryn Alison had as much money as Lana’s personal savings account.
Roberta stopped cutting long enough to consider the food in front of her, then Lana’s stoic face. “Gives me longer to cook dessert.”
“What’s for dessert?”
“Peach cobbler. For Mr. Andrews.”
His favorite. Seemed Ken was a popular guy today. “Can I ask you a question?”
Roberta glanced at Lana as if she had grown a second head. I know, I’m not very personable. Although Lana tried to keep emotional distance between her and the help she hired, Roberta was the house’s longest standing employee at seven years. She lived in a sizable apartment above the kitchen where the Andrews let her host guests and even a live-in boyfriend for three out of those seven years – the boyfriend had worked as a lawn keeper for a neighboring property, meaning hardly any commute. These were perks Lana wouldn’t dream of offering her other employees.
So even though Roberta and her were far from friends, she was the closest thing Lana had to one in that house outside of her husband. If there was anyone she was going to talk to, it was this sullen woman who often looked like she was about to rip the chicken in half with her bare hands.
“Do you think my husband is cheating on me?”
Lana went ahead and laid that out on the island counter, now didn’t she?
Roberta spared her another glance before dumping a pile of diced carrots into a bowl. “It’s too close to Christmas for a question like that,” she mumbled.