Good Goblin Housekeeping Novels & Stories

"I am Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper. Mr. Blackwood wants perfect order and time in this house. Follow me." Without waiting for an answer, Mrs. Gable turned and walked into the big entrance hall. Clara hurried after her, her old sneakers making soft sounds on the shiny white marble floor. The house was beautiful, with high ceilings and tall pillars, but Mrs. Gable’s stiff back made the whole place feel as cold as a grave.

Right before Adryan gave her the money, he said, "Don't take a taxi; I'll pick you up tonight." The roar of his car engine was heard a few minutes later. “Alright, Mr. Adryan Lewis.” Gabby said as softly as possible to mock Adryan. Afterward, Gabby was left alone. She sat between Mama Adryan and Alex. The atmosphere at the table was very comfortable, but Gabby felt like an actress who had just lost her co-star. In the kitchen, she saw a middle-aged woman and two other young people wearing uniforms, busy preparing the dishes. *Only three staff members for a house this big?* Gabby thought. In her mansion, there were twice as many staff for a house of nearly the same size.

He did not make the best guard dog when he fell into his carb comas. My cash register showed no signs of being tampered with, there was twenty-five dollars on the counter, and Gabe had stacked his dishes in the dirty bin on the cart. Bless his heart, he had even locked the front door, and must have exited out the back. He was good people. I flipped off the open sign and turned off the lights.

Downstairs, the atmosphere is one of casual comfort, as though nothing in the world could be wrong. Gabrielle is laughing at something on her phone, and Mr. Robinson is now gesticulating wildly at the screen, urging the Wolves to score. Mrs. Robinson is setting the last of the dishes on the table, her movements graceful, efficient—the picture of domestic serenity. When she returns downstairs, the air feels thick with unspoken tension. Mrs. Robinson continues with her cookery prowess, her movements methodical, while Gabrielle helps in silence. Mr. Robinson is still engrossed in the game, oblivious to the storm brewing within his youngest daughter.

He laughed, keeping his head tilted so it held the phone while another limb arranged the sheaf of papers scattered in the main bedroom of his boss. "Nah! Seriously, can't trust that jerk!" "Alright, love, that's enough. I'll catch up with you later. Love you" 'Yeah, year. Love you too!" Saying so, Harry ended the call, before another string of curses on Aiden barged upon his head. Now, what specialty did this noon have was uneventful, for the lights were swished up and down with balloons, personally by the gardener, Jacob. Aiden had mentioned vacuuming twice, to a stunned Harry who knew how annoyed his master was by the whirring sound of that machine, and all the bathrooms were cleaned perso

She moved it out and then to the bedside drawer, and she saw the money. "Gosh! Why would he be so reckless to leave his money scattered all over? What if some notes fell and the vacuum cleaner swallows it?" She muttered sighing. She stopped the machine, packed the notes neatly, and folded it, dropping them inside the drawer. She went on with her cleaning and after some minutes she was done cleaning the entire room. She walked to the bathroom and started taking care of it too. Landon heard the Vacuum machine stop for a long time, so he guessed she must be done cleaning.

"We have four guards stationed outside the main building entrance down below, and the cleaner would come every weekend to handle the dirty stuff. As for cooking, for now, I will handle it." Gabriel stopped looking at the TV. He turned his head slowly, his eyes staring straight into mine like he was trying to look right into my soul. There was a long, deadpan silence before his mouth opened. "You cook bad... really bad.. get a cook." My pride flared up instantly, my chest puffing out as my blood pressure took a familiar spike. "What?" I shot back, my voice loud in the quiet living room. "My cooking isn't bad! What’s wrong with it? The pasta I made yesterday was fine!"

But Chloe shot me an impatient glare and snapped, "Jack, who exactly are you trying to impress? You're being so petty—I'm really starting to wonder if we're even compatible." My dad calmly dropped a large chicken drumstick into my bowl and said in a neutral tone, "Yeah… maybe you're not." Chloe pretended not to care, but I noticed her parents' expressions stiffen. Her father's face darkened as he scolded her harshly. "Chloe! How can you speak to Jack like that?" Immediately, the atmosphere at the table tightened. That's when Jacob sprang into action. He stood up, smiling, "Jack, this soup is really fresh. Let me get you a bowl."

The heating grids beneath the polished hardwood floors slowly died, a creeping, Alpine chill rising from the stones to seep through the thin fabric of my knit dress. I walked out of the parlor, heading back toward the medical wing to check on Williams. But the moment I reached the service intersection, Mrs. Gable, the sharp-featured head housekeeper, stepped out from the linen pantry. She didn't bow her head or offer any word of greeting. She stood directly in the center of the narrow hallway, her arms crossed over her black apron, disdain plastered across her face.

She noticed me finally, looking through her giant mirror on the wall. "You look Gorgeous!" She said smiling warmly. "Ahh..Thank you!" I flashed a bright smile. I felt good when I heard her compliment after all my hard work did pay off. I was wearing an elegant full hand, sweetheart neck gown that my mom got me last month. It had lacy patterns that complimented me pretty well. I was standing tall with black silhouettes and had light make up on with cherry- red lipstick, the hairdo was very simple I straightened out my hair and left it free.