Chapter 3

Eight weeks later . . .

For the first time in two months, Selena had left the mansion with the baby. She had brought baby Christopher to the penthouse she and her husband owned in the city.  That’s where Selena and her friends would meet most of the time. Joanna loved going to the penthouse because she could really let her hair down and talk to Selena like the friends they really were. Beverly Balsom, the third BFF of their group, had just arrived with wine and snacks.

“Beverly, I’m not sure if Cheetos go with white wine,” Selena said with a wry smile.

“Sure they do,” Beverly said.  “Just try it.”

Joanna shrugged and popped a Cheetos in her mouth. Then, she sipped the wine. “It is pretty good.”

Selena chuckled as she put little Chris in the bassinet.

“How is the little nipper?” Beverly asked.

“Perfect,” Selena answered joyfully. “He’s really a good baby, too. He hardly ever cries and he sleeps like a rock. It’s nothing like what the mothers had said it would be in Lamaze class.  The first two weeks he was a little fussy. And he woke up at least once a night for a feeding, but after that, he sleeps through the night.”

Beverly nodded.  “Have you hired a nanny, yet?”

“Yes, finally. Mrs. Lopez will start next week,” Selena answered.

“Good. It will give our girl a break,” Beverly said with a small smile.

            Joanna had been pulling double duty at the Hudson Estate. When she wasn’t cleaning upstairs, she was taking care of little Chris when Selena was busy with other things. “I don’t mind.”

“I know, honey, but you work so hard already. This is the first real day you’ve had off since Chris was born,” Selena said and sat down on the couch.

“You act like I don’t get paid to do it – and that I didn’t get a bonus from your husband,” Joanna said. Christopher Hudson had personally given her an envelope the day after Chris was born. Joanna had nearly passed out when she saw there was ten thousand dollars in it.

“You know, I miss the old days when we had held court for our writers’ club,” Beverly said.

“The Fantasy Fiction Writing Club,” Selena said with nostalgia.

Joanna smiled.

            The club had only three members – them. Beverly was the only real writer among them. She had a blog and she had gotten a part-time job at The N.Y., a news website, as a lifestyles reporter three months ago. She still worked for a temp agency to supplement her income. They wrote hot, dirty, and erotic stories about men. Most of the stories were about the Hudson brothers. Selena had written about Christopher, Joanna had written about Trevor, and Beverly had written about Bruce. It was Beverly’s stories that were extremely smutty with sex toys and doing . . . unconventional things with them. It was the strangest thing. Beverly hated Bruce, and for good reason, but at the same time she wanted to sleep with him. It didn’t make sense to Joanna, but she had never said anything about it. As long as it made sense to Beverly that’s all that really mattered.

            They had dissolved the club after Selena had accidently switched the club’s flash drive with her work flash drive. At that time, Selena worked as Christopher’s executive assistant at The Hudson Group.  He had given her a list of files to load on the work flash drive. She had done it, but left the wrong one with him to take home for the weekend. Joanna had even gone as far as helping Beverly and Selena break into the mansion to retrieve it. They had gotten caught, which sent Selena into a strange, yet cute romance with her boss.

            “Where is that old flash drive, anyway, Selena?” Beverly asked and took a sip of her wine.

            “It’s upstairs actually,” Selena answered. “In my laptop bag.”

            “Good, I was worried that Christopher hung on to it for . . . stimulation,” Beverly joked.

            The girls laughed.

            “I’m all the stimulation he needs, thank you,” Selena said with confidence.

            “What about you, Joanna? I suspect your still pinning over the Hudson that will never settle for one woman,” Beverly said.

            “You don’t have to say it like that,” Joanna said and looked away.

            “Sorry,” Beverly said. “I didn’t mean to – are you okay?”

            “Yeah,” Joanna said with a shrug. “I’m just tired.”

            “That’s what I’ve been thinking all week, but it’s more than that,” Selena said suspicion. “I’ve known you long enough to know when something is bothering you.” Joanna and Selena had first met when Selena had to deliver files to the mansion three and a half years ago. William had the day off, which was rare, so Joanna had answered the door. After Selena had given her boss the files, she had run into her again while she was leaving. “Hey, you want to meet me and a friend of mine for lunch tomorrow?” she had asked.  Since Joanna didn’t have any friends, she accepted in hopes of making some. The other friend at the lunch had been Beverly.

            “What is it, honey?” Beverly asked.

            “It’s . . . I’m tired of . . . wanting a man I will never have. I’ll be twenty-two years old in a few months and . . . I haven’t accomplished anything much less have a man,” Joanna whined.

            “Honey, you’re still very young,” Selena soothed. “Most people don’t accomplish much at twenty-one.”

            “Of course, they have. Most people graduate college at my age,” Joanna said with a pout. “I’ve never been near a college.”

            “Is this your way of telling us you want to go to college?” Beverly asked with confusion.

            “Yes, no, I don’t know,” Joanna said with frustration.

            “What are you interested in?”

            Joanna shrugged. “Nothing much, I’m afraid – other than sewing. I’ve always liked to sew.”

            “Have you thought about becoming a fashion designer?” Selena asked.

            “Not really. I know how to make pants and shirts and dresses, but I’m not a fashionesta,” Joanna said.

            “I agree,” Beverly said.

            “Thanks,” Joanna said flatly.

            “I mean no offense, Joanna, but you did admit it,” Beverly said defensively. “And the only things I’ve seen you in are sweat suits, jeans, T-shirts, and a black maids' uniform.”

            Joanna couldn’t argue with that.

            “Yes, but she has eyes,” Selena said. “And she has a good eye. Sewing takes a good eye and attention to detail. I’m sure if she did a little research she could become a good fashion designer. This is New York for Pete’s sake, fashion capital of the country. If she can’t learn about fashion here, she can’t learn it anywhere.”

            Joanna considered what Selena had said. It was worth thinking about. She didn’t have a good education, but she did have common sense and the ability to learn.

            “But, the man problem can be solved,” Beverly said. “You have two options. The first one, sneak into Trevor’s bedroom in the middle of the night and hop on top of him and demand that he jump your bones.”

            “Beverly,” Selena chided. “Not in front of my son.”

            “He’s asleep,” Beverly countered.

            “So? Haven’t you ever heard of subliminal messages? Or hypnotic messages?” Selena asked.

            Beverly rolled her eyes.

            “The first option is a definite no. Second suggestion?”  Joanna asked.

            “Start going out on your night’s off,” Beverly said simply. “The bars are full of guys.”

            Selena and Joanna groaned at that idea.

            “The guys in the New York bars are nothing, but pathetic drunks and perverts,” Selena said.

            “I totally agree,” Joanna said. “The two times I’ve been to the bars here was a terrible experience. The first time all those older guys were lingering at me and wouldn’t leave me alone no matter how many hints I gave them.”

            “The middle-aged pathetic who messed up their marriages, got divorced, and now they are trolling to find a twenty-something to get down with. Like a twenty-year old really want them with their pot bellies, graying hair, and arthritis ridden joints,” Selena said with disgust.

            “Some young women like older guys,” Beverly stated.

            “Yeah, if they got money,” Selena quipped.

            “The second time I couldn’t walk two feet without some guy, my own age, approaching me with a stupid pick up line with beer on his shirt and a glazed over look in his eye,” Joanna continued.

            “Ah, the broke college drunk who just wants one thing,” Selena said with familiarity.

            “I’m not saying she can find a husband in the bars. I’m saying she can find a guy in the bars. When was the last time you got your –” Beverly glanced at the bassinet. “You had some . . . affection?”

            Joanna picked up on what Beverly meant. “None of your business.”

            “Exactly, a really long time – too long,” Beverly said. “Go to a bar, pick-up a guy, and work out the kinks. You don’t have to marry him.”

            Joanna turned up her nose. “I don’t need to work out any kinks.”

            “Joanna, you’re gonna have to start living a little while you’re still young and have some looks,” Beverly said seriously. “If you keep going the way you are, the best years of your life are going to pass you by and you won’t have any fun memories to show for it. You’ll look up at the age of forty and realize you’re still pinning over a man you never made a move on and still working as a maid at the Hudson Estate.

            Joanna remained silent, but Beverly’s words hit home.

****

            Joanna was back in her private quarters at the Hudson Estate. The servants’ quarters were located two city blocks away from the house.

            She had plenty of time to think during the cab ride home. Beverly had a point. She was going to be twenty-two in a few months and she’s only had one boyfriend in her entire life. She also considered Selena’s advice about getting into fashion design. So, she had the cab driver make a pit stop at the bookstore. She bought two books; Fashion Design Course by Seven Faerm and Valentino: Themes and Variations by Pamela Golbin. Joanna also bought a couple of magazines; Allure, Vogue, and TooChic.

            Joanna changed into a night shirt that covered everything above her ankles. Before she could settle in, there was a knock on her door. She had a feeling who it was. She walked to the door and opened it.

            Sure enough, it was Courtney, the new downstairs maid. She was a year younger than Joanna. She had short blonde hair – so short that Joanna considered it a boy’s haircut. Courtney was very slender. A strong wind could knock her down. “Hey, Joanna,” she chirped and walked into Joanna’s room.

            “Hey, Courtney,” Joanna greeted with a small smile. The twenty-year-old was always bubbly. She had been hired a month ago. Winifred was training her and it seemed like it was going well. William got her from a temp agency in the city. Courtney was a college drop out. Her parents had said if she didn’t go to college she had to get a job. So, she did.

            “So, what did you do for your day off?” she asked and plopped down on Joanna’s bed.

            “I just hung out with some old friends today. What went on around here?” Joanna didn’t tell her co-workers much about her personal life. One of the main reasons was because she really didn’t have one.

            “That’s nice. Nothing much went on here. Seemed like everything was quiet. Same ole same ole. Hey,” she said a she noticed the books and magazines. “What’s with the reading material?”

            “I’m just looking into . . . fashion,” Joanna answered.

            Courtney picked up the Valentino book. “Are you studying fashion design?”

            “Well, I’m looking into it. I don’t know if I’m going to study it, yet.”

            Courtney nodded. “It’s worth looking into. My cousin married a guy who grew up Amish, like you. He had told us that all the women are taught to be great seamstresses.”

            “Most of us, yes,” Joanna confirmed and sat down on the sofa.

            “Well, you already have a sewing machine,” Courtney said as she gestured toward the sewing machine on the desk a few feet away.

            “True, but I haven’t made any decisions, yet,” Joanna said. “I’m just looking into it.”

            Courtney nodded. “Are you looking into taking classes?”

            “I don’t know. I just have a GED. I don’t know if my educational background will be up to par with other candidates for school.” Raised in a community isolated from the rest of the world, Joanna had been educated in a small school. By English standards, she had a tenth grade education. She had to get help from Winifred and William to study for her GED. She had already been adept to reading and writing, but the algebra had thrown her off even if it had been basic.

            “All kinds of people get into college who only has a GED.”

            “You forgot that I don’t know how to type or work a computer,” Joanna said with a dry tone. The Amish didn’t use electricity. Therefore, Joanna was not exposed to computers or smartphones until Rumspringa. And even then, she didn’t attempt to learn much about them. She only had a burner phone and all she did was make calls on it. It was a pain for her to send a text or do anything else on it.

            “I took some of my college general ed. required classes at a community college. They also offered classes and seminars on keyboarding and basic computer usage. Mostly old people take them, but it will be a good start.”

            “I don’t know,” Joanna replied with uncertainty. “Classes are expensive – and time consuming.”

            “True, but if you really have talent, it would be worth it,” Courtney said. She dug into her jeans’ pocket and pulled out her cell phone. “Let’s go online and look at some schools and programs. It will only take a ten or fifteen minutes.”

            Before Joanna could agree or disagree with the suggestion, Courtney was already swiping and clicking away on her phone.

****

            It was seven-thirty a.m. Trevor walked to the dining room for breakfast. Being a Saturday, he was wearing a light gray sweater and denim jeans. The rest of his family was already sitting at the table. “Good morning,” Trevor chimed.

            Everyone returned the sentiment.

            Trevor sat down in the chair to the right of Christopher, who sat at the head of the table. “Where’s the little ham?” Trevor called Chris Jr. that sometimes because he was always smiling and gurgling.

            “He’s upstairs with the nanny,” Selena answered. “She’s getting him ready for me and Christopher to take him to The Hudson Group building.”

            “I’m going to show the boy around,” Christopher said proudly. “He should see what he’ll inherit one day.”

            “At two months old?” Trevor asked with astonishment.

            “Don’t bother, Trevor, I’ve already tried,” Selena said with a wry smile.

            “You can’t start too early,” Christopher said. “I bet I’ll have Chris reading real estate listings by the time he’s three.”

            Bruce chuckled and shoved a piece of biscuit in his mouth loaded with eggs and piece of fried ham.

            Trevor shrugged as he laid the white cloth napkin in his lap. He grabbed the silver pitcher and poured himself a cup of coffee. “I take it the upstairs maid didn’t work last night.”

            “No, she was off. Why?” Selena inquired.

            “Eh, I didn’t have a chocolate on my pillow when I came home last night,” he said with disappointment. “I like the chocolates she leaves.”

            “Chocolates? She leaves you chocolates on your pillow?” Christopher asked with bewilderment.”

            “Yes, like she does for all of you,” Trevor said and started loading his plate with scrambled eggs.

            “No she doesn’t,” Christopher and Bruce said in unison.

            “What?” Trevor said.

            “She doesn’t leave me any damn chocolates when she turns down the bed at night,” Bruce said with a bulldog frown.

            “Me either,” Christopher said. “Unless Selena eats them before I notice them.”

            “I don’t because there usually isn’t any,” Selena said.

            “Well, Bruce, if you didn’t talk to the staff like a damn drill sergeant, maybe she would leave you some chocolates at night. And Christopher . . . maybe if you were as charming and handsome as me, she would leave you chocolates, too,” Trevor goaded.

            “Ha!” Christopher scoffed.

            “Or maybe the little shy maid has an unhealthy crush on someone,” Bruce stated.

            “Well, if she does, I don’t blame her,” Trevor said with a smirk. “And why would it be unhealthy?”

            “Because it’s inappropriate . . . and it could be hurtful to her over the years. You’ll never date her. She’s not your type,” Bruce said and sipped his orange juice.

“And what is my type, Bruce?”

“Easy and pretty heiress,” Bruce answered quickly. “How long has she been leaving you candy?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Trevor said nonchalantly as he grabbed a few pieces of bacon with silver tongs. “Two – two and a half years.”

“Two and a half years,” Bruce stressed.

Christopher’s eyes widened.

“That’s a long time to have a crush. This could be dangerous, Trevor,” Bruce said seriously. “One day she’ll realize that she doesn’t have a chance in hell with you and burn the house down.”

“She’s just leaving a piece of candy on his pillow, not a bushel of red roses,” Selena said curtly.

“Still . . . I should have a talk with her,” Bruce said seriously. “Just to make sure she doesn’t cross the line.”

“Oh, Bruce, leave her alone,” Trevor said seriously. “She’s just a quiet, sweet, shy kid. You give her a stern talking to all because . . . I’m her favorite Hudson the girl is libel to burst into tears.”

“I agree,” Selena said. “Leave her be. She’s harmless.”

“But-” Bruce began, but the head of the family didn’t let him finish.

“Bruce, I know it’s your little job around here to handle the household staff. But, Joanna does a good job around here. I don’t want her quitting because you made her feel embarrassed and humiliated. Just act like you don’t know anything at all. Okay?”

Bruce exhaled, sending his broad shoulders downward. “All right, but when Trevor finally walks through the door with a fiancé and the next morning you find dead white rabbits at your doorstep don’t say a word.”

Christopher chuckled at the Fatal Attraction reference.

Trevor rolled his eyes. “You always think the worst. Besides, that girl couldn’t kill a fly much less a rabbit.” He started eating his breakfast.