The flyer

Chapter 1

Abby walked down the long driveway slowly. The sun was warm on her back, but her mind was all over the place. A one-week trial. That was her chance. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

She glanced back at the mansion. It was so big and fancy, like a dream she didn’t belong in. But now, it felt different. Now, it was her shot at a better life. For the first time in a long while, she felt a little hopeful.

The bus stop wasn’t far. Abby sat on the wooden bench, her old hoodie pulled tight around her. She dug into her backpack and pulled out her little notebook.

She opened it to a clean page and wrote:

“Tomorrow: First day at the mansion. Don’t mess it up.”

Writing things down helped her stay focused. It was her way of holding on to things. She stared at the words for a moment, then slipped the notebook back into her bag.

The bus arrived with a loud hiss, and she got on, sitting by the window. As the bus rolled away, she leaned her head against the glass.

Her thoughts went back to Mr. Edward.

He seemed so serious and a little cold, but not mean. He had these sharp blue eyes that felt like they were studying her. Abby wasn’t sure if that made her nervous or curious. Maybe a bit of both.

By the time she got to the motel, the sun was already setting. The building was old and run-down, with peeling paint and a flickering sign. It wasn’t great, but it was all she could afford.

Her room was small, with cracks on the walls and a faint damp smell. Abby sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

“What if I mess this up?” she whispered. Her chest tightened at the thought. She’d been through a lot, but the idea of failing still scared her.

She shook her head. “No,” she told herself. “You’ve got this.”

She got up and started getting ready. Abby laid out her cleanest clothes—a white blouse and black pants. They weren’t fancy, but at least they were tidy. She wiped her old sneakers with a damp cloth until they looked decent.

Then she checked her backpack. Her notebook was inside, along with a pen and a sandwich she’d saved for later. Everything was ready.

Abby sat back on the bed, her mind wandering again. She thought about the house—the sparkling floors, the chandelier, the hallway full of paintings. One of them stuck in her mind—a woman in a flowing dress with kind eyes. Abby wondered who she was but didn’t dwell on it too long.

And then there was Mr. Edward. He seemed strict, but not unkind. His gaze had been intimidating, but there was something else there too—like he was thinking about giving her a real chance.

Abby lay down, staring at the cracked ceiling. Her thoughts jumped back and forth between nerves and hope until she finally drifted off to sleep.

⸻

The next morning, Abby woke up before her alarm. She couldn’t sleep much anyway. She got up and dressed quickly, smoothing her blouse and tying her hair back neatly. Her sneakers still looked worn, but she’d done her best to clean them.

Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. She grabbed her bag and left, her heart racing.

The bus ride felt longer than usual. Every bump made her more nervous. When she got off near the mansion, her palms were sweaty.

The driveway was quiet, the morning light making everything look even prettier. The fountain sparkled, and the garden smelled fresh. Abby stopped at the front door and took a deep breath before pressing the doorbell.

The chime echoed, and the door opened.

Mr. Edward stood there, dressed sharp as ever. His blue eyes scanned her, calm but serious.

“Good morning,” Abby said quickly.

“Good morning,” he replied. “You’re on time. That’s a good start.”

Relief washed over her. “Thank you, sir,” she said softly.

“Follow me,” he said, turning and walking down the hallway.

Abby followed, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. Everything looked spotless and perfect, from the faint smell of flowers to the shining windows.

They stopped in a room lined with bookshelves. Mr. Edward turned to face her.

“You’ll have a list of tasks each morning,” he said. “Today, start with cleaning the main rooms and organizing the pantry. The list is in the kitchen. If you need help, ask Mrs. Rose.”

“Yes, sir,” Abby said, nodding quickly.

“Good,” he said simply. “Get started.”

And just like that, he left.

Abby stood there for a moment, clutching the paper in her hands. Her heart was racing, but she couldn’t let fear stop her now.

This is it, she told herself. Don’t mess this up.

Taking a deep breath, Abby headed toward the kitchen. She was ready to begin.