Is She the Maid?

*Anna*

“You call this clean! What the hell is the matter with you, you numbskull?” Hattie shouts, tossing the skirt I just labored over for five hours in my face. “If you can’t get that stain out, then go down to the department store and buy me another skirt! With your own money!” My sister-in-law stomps away. I can only assume she’s glaring at me. It’s kind of hard to see with her 3X skirt draped over my head.

With a grimace, I pull it off and take another look at the spot where she spilled wine at dinner last night. I honestly don’t see one trace of the red stain now, but who am I to argue? This is the Young household, and she is a part of the family. Granted, she isn’t any more a Young than I am since we are both married to brothers whose grandmother owns this enormous estate, but for some reason, Hattie is accepted into the family, and I’m… well, I’m just Anna.

“Do you need another brush?” Winnie, the head housekeeper, who is one of the only people who lives here that is ever kind to me, holds out a new fine-toothed brush. I know it’s not going to make any difference, but I gratefully accept it and return to the laundry room, trying to keep my emotions in check. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the Youngs in the three years that I’ve been living here it’s that letting them see you cry only makes them meaner.

An hour goes by, and now, I’m afraid I’ve scrubbed so hard that the spot on the skirt is starting to look too white when it’s meant to be cream. There’s no way in hell I can go down to that fancy department store and buy her a new skirt. I only get an allowance of twenty dollars per month from Grandmother Trudy, and I have to save that for all of my personal needs–like deodorant and shampoo. It would take me years to save up enough money to buy her a new skirt like this one.

“Oh, there you are, Anna.” Mary’s voice has me turning to look at the doorway. “Are you still scrubbing that skirt?”

I nod, and my mother-in-law’s mouth turns down in a slight frown. She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. She is the only member of the Young family who goes out of her way to be kind to me. Even my own husband, Grant, is often indifferent about my treatment. 

“Would you like some advice?” She takes a few steps into the room, a space she’s never really needed to occupy since she has plenty of servants to do her laundry for her. 

“I suppose,” I say, afraid I’m about to get both of us in trouble. Hattie has no power over Mary, but if Grandmother Trudy sees Mary being nice to me, well, she won’t stand for it.

“Just rinse the skirt out, make sure it’s dry, and hang it in her closet. She won’t even remember which one it was. It’ll be impossible for her to say you couldn’t get the stain out when she doesn’t know which of her hundreds of skirts has the stain. I’m fairly certain she has eight that are nearly identical to that one.” She pats me lovingly on the shoulder, and I almost lean into the touch. Save for my own mother, who lives in a much smaller house on the property, no one ever touches me in such a kind fashion.

“You’re sure I won’t get us in trouble?” I’m used to being chastised, but I don’t want Mary to get yelled at.

“I’m positive.” She brushes her hand along my cheek and smiles fondly at me. “You have such a pretty face, Anna.”

“Th-thank you.” I’m not used to compliments, so I smile awkwardly at her until she turns and leaves the room.

Since I’m all out of ideas, I do as she suggested, and once the skirt is dry, I scamper off to hide it in Hattie’s closet. Thankfully, I’m able to slip in and out undetected. I guess it’s a good thing I’m so light. No one can say that the Young family spends too much money on food for me, that’s for sure.

I’m so used to tiptoeing that I don’t realize I’m doing it as I walk down the hall where Grandmother Trudy’s office is located. As the head of a company that specializes in building event centers–stadiums, arenas, concert halls, etc.--she is not only exceedingly wealthy but very business savvy. No one in the entire city–maybe even the entire country–would dare to face off against Trudy Young in the boardroom.

“Sam Savage did what?” Trudy shouts, likely into her phone. “That right bastard!”

Well, maybe there’s one person.

I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. It’s frowned upon in this house to ever express any form of happiness when it comes to Savage Enterprises, Young Corporation’s biggest opponent. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t secretly cheer for Savage Enterprises in the background. I love it that someone is able to get under Grandmother Trudy’s skin. No one can do it like Mr. Savage.

“You tell him I’m buying that property, and if he wants to tangle with me, well, I’ll see him in hell!”

It’s a good thing Grandmother Trudy insists on using a desk phone because the sound of her slamming down the receiver tells me immediately that I need to skedaddle. I hear the quick clip-clop of her heels coming down the hallway, so I dart in the other direction. She might be seventy-five, but she’s spry.

I’m in such a hurry to get away from her so that she doesn’t know that I was eavesdropping that I’m not looking where I’m going. The next thing I know, I’ve collided with what feels like an iron wall someone must’ve erected right in the middle of the hall.

But when I look up, it’s no iron wall–just the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on who happens to have abs of steel.

My husband.