Chapter 2 - The Third Day
By breakfast on Fay’s third day, the household was waiting for her to quit.
Mrs. Gable checked the clock at 6:03.
Carmine stood at the kitchen counter drinking coffee.
The cook whispered, “Twenty dollars says she leaves before noon.”
Fay walked into the kitchen.
“I heard that.”
The cook nearly dropped his spoon.
Fay pointed at him.
“Make it fifty.”
Carmine laughed.
Mrs. Gable did not.
“You understand what today is?”
“Wednesday?”
“Your third day.”
Fay tied her apron.
“Congratulations to me.”
Upstairs, Dominic was already awake.
Fay opened his curtains.
Sunlight flooded the bedroom.
Dominic covered his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Apparently introducing you to the sun.”
“Close them.”
“No.”
His hand dropped.
“Excuse me?”
“You haven't left this room in three days.”
“I haven't asked to.”
“You haven't asked to do anything.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“You’re a maid.”
“Correct.”
“Not my doctor.”
“Also correct.”
“Then clean something.”
Fay looked around.
“I did.”
He followed her gaze.
The room was spotless.
Dominic almost looked offended.
Fay placed his breakfast down.
Eggs.
Toast.
Coffee.
“No oatmeal?”
“I asked the cook.”
A pause.
Dominic picked up the fork.
That tiny movement nearly made Fay smile.
She wisely hid it.
Later that morning, she found him staring through the window toward the gardens.
“You want to go outside?”
“No.”
“You’ve been staring at the same tree for ten minutes.”
“I’m considering having it cut down.”
“Why?”
“It annoys me.”
Fay folded a sweater.
“You’re lying.”
Dominic slowly turned his wheelchair.
“People who accuse me of lying generally regret it.”
“People who threaten their maid because they want fresh air generally need hobbies.”
His mouth twitched.
Barely.
But Fay saw it.
“Get Carmine,” Dominic said.
Fay stopped.
“For what?”
“We’re going outside.”
The entire household noticed.
Mrs. Gable appeared in the foyer as Carmine wheeled Dominic toward the terrace.
She looked at Fay.
“What did you do?”
“Opened the curtains.”
Mrs. Gable stared at her as if she had performed surgery.
Outside, Dominic’s mood changed.
The driveway sloped slightly near the garden.
He stopped his wheelchair.
“I can do it.”
Carmine released the handles.
Dominic pushed forward.
His arms strained.
The chair rolled several feet.
Then stopped.
Again.
Again.
By the fourth attempt, sweat darkened Dominic’s collar.
Fay said nothing.
Finally he snapped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m standing.”
“I know that.”
Fay crossed her arms.
“Congratulations.”
Dominic glared at her.
Then something unexpected happened.
He laughed.
It was short and rough, almost unfamiliar.
Everyone on the terrace stopped moving.
Mrs. Gable actually turned around.
Dominic noticed.
His smile disappeared.
“What are you all looking at?”
The staff scattered instantly.
Fay bit the inside of her cheek.
“You think that's funny?”
“A little.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’re getting very comfortable here.”
“I made it past lunch.”
“You’re still not at three days.”
She checked her watch.
“Eight more hours.”
That evening, Fay entered his room with dinner.
Dominic was holding a folder.
“Sit.”
“I’m working.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
Fay stared at him.
“You remember how well orders work on me.”
“Sit, Fay.”
Something in his tone was different.
She sat.
Dominic pushed a document across the desk.
It was a background report.
Her name.
Previous addresses.
Employment history.
Debts.
Fay’s expression hardened.
“You investigated me?”
“I investigate everyone who enters this house.”
“You had no right.”
“You work inside my home.”
“You could've asked.”
“Would you have told me?”
“Yes.”
Dominic studied her.
“You owe four months of medical debt.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Your landlord filed for eviction.”
“I already told you.”
“You have eighty-three dollars in your bank account.”
Fay stood.
“We’re done.”
“Sit down.”
“No.”
Dominic slammed his palm against the desk.
“Why haven't you asked me for money?”
Fay stared at him.
“What?”
“You know who I am now. You know what this house is worth. You know I could solve your problems before dinner.”
“And?”
“Everyone wants something.”
“I want forty dollars an hour.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s what we agreed.”
Dominic studied her face.
“No favors?”
“No.”
“No loan?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I work for my money.”
Dominic looked at the report.
“You're about to lose your apartment.”
“Then I’ll work more hours.”
Silence.
“You’re either the proudest woman I’ve ever met,” he said, “or the dumbest.”
“Probably both.”
Dominic almost smiled again.
A knock came at the door.
Carmine entered.
His expression was serious.
“We have a problem.”
Dominic’s entire demeanor changed.
The wounded man disappeared.
Something colder replaced him.
“What happened?”
“Someone accessed the garage security system last night.”
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
Dominic glanced toward Fay.
“Get out.”
Fay did not argue.
She reached the doorway.
“Fay.”
She turned.
Dominic looked at the clock.
6:07 p.m.
“Three days.”
She understood.
“You survived.”
Fay smiled faintly.
“See you tomorrow.”
She closed the door.
Carmine looked at Dominic.
“You like her.”
Dominic’s expression became dangerous.
“Finish that sentence and you’ll be looking for another job.”
Carmine smiled.
Then he placed a photograph on the desk.
Dominic stopped smiling.
The photograph showed the wrecked vehicle from six months earlier.
And beneath it was a single handwritten message.
May you like
The accident wasn’t an accident.
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