Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“I’m keeping your wife inspired.” I offer a toothy grin as if he’ll pat me on the back for knowing what “muse” means. “So I don’t think you’ll be sending me to jail.” I roll the waist of the jeans to remove the safety pin and string that remains from the tag. The safety pin is bent open, ready to jab me in the side. Maybe I should let it. Then I can sue him.
Rupert grunts and turns, heading up the stairs. “So far, she’s not impressed. Do better. Start with coffee. She likes it in the form of herbal tea with a slice of lemon and a few drips of honey.”
Coffee. Herbal tea. Lemon. Honey. Got it.
I rummage through the kitchen. Thankfully, there’s already a pot of hot coffee. I pour it into a mug and deposit a bag of organic herbal tea into it. Then I cut a lemon and squeeze half into the coffee with some honey. I’m not sure how many “drips” because honey runs more than it drips. Feeling confident and successful with my first task of the day, I carry the coffee to Callie’s bedroom and knock on the door.
When she doesn’t answer, I ease open the door and poke my head inside. She’s on the floor by the window, legs crisscrossed, hands on her knees.
“I have your coffee.”
She opens one eye.
“Well, it’s tea, too.”
She squints that one eye.
“Herbal tea. Honey and lemon.” I grin triumphantly.
When she crooks her finger at me, I step in front of her.
“Where’s the belt?” she asks.
My grin fades. “The belt?”
She nods.
“Oh.” I glance down at my jeans, minus the belt. “I was in a rush this morning. It wasn’t in the bag I took into the bathroom. I’ll wear it tomorrow.” I set the mug on the table beside her throne-looking chair.
Callie points to the coaster, so I move it onto the pink and white marble coaster. She stands with ease, not like an old lady lumbering to stand, instead, graceful in everything she does. Bending forward with her arms crossed, she inspects the drink before wrinkling her nose.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s black.”
“That’s the coffee,” I say.
“I don’t like coffee.”
“Mr. Rawlings said you like your coffee as herbal tea with lemon and honey.”
She looks at me, and after a few seconds, the corner of her mouth bends into a tiny grin. “You steeped my tea in coffee?”
“Well,”—my gaze ping-pongs between her and the mug—“yeah.”
Her shoulders bounce with a little chuckle. “What he meant is I don’t drink coffee. He calls everything coffee. I like tea instead, not too.” Her eyes narrow as she picks up the mug and reads the tea tag.
“It was the first box I found that said ‘herbal.’”
She hands me the mug. “Smooth Move tea has senna. Do you know what senna does?”
“No.” I take the mug.
Callie returns a tight-lipped smile, and I wait. But that’s all she offers, so I guess I’ll look it up.
“Want me to get another tea? Not steeped in coffee?”
She slowly nods.
With a controlled sigh, I turn and head downstairs.
“How’d you do, son?” Rupert says, now dressed in black joggers and a crisp white tee, drinking a glass of something green while staring at his phone, back against the fridge. It smells like Pop-Tarts.
“I steeped senna tea in coffee and added honey and lemon.”
He snickers while I pour the concoction into the sink. “There’s a glass electric kettle in the pantry,” he says. “Use it to heat the water. On the shelf above the kettle, there’s a copper-colored tin with peppermint tea bags. Senna is an herbal laxative.”
“Shit. You know, you could have told me all of this earlier.” I open the pantry door that matches the cabinets. It’s basically a second kitchen with another fridge, a counter, stove, sink, and a floor-to-ceiling wine rack behind a glass door. Fucking rich people. I wonder if they ever lose sleep thinking about people living on the street with cardboard for a bed and a sandwich from a dumpster that will serve as their only meal for the day.
“I didn’t tell you earlier,” he says, “because I wanted to see how savvy you were.”
“And?” I call from the pantry.
“And what? I think we know the answer. Do you really want me to say it?”
Something clicks to my left. It’s the toaster … and Pop-Tarts.
After I fill the kettle and plug it in, I return to the kitchen, pulling my phone and charging cord from my back pocket to charge it on the counter. “Say what? That you think I’m an idiot?”
“Do you think you’re an idiot?”
“Nope.” I pluck a new spoon from the drawer for the honey. “I think you’ve set me up to fail at this job, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“The only way you can fail is by not trying.”