Home > The Bargain(9)

The Bargain(9)
Author: R.G. Angel

“Have a good evening, Ms. Collins.” I turned around and disappeared into my office where I planned to spend most of my evening.

 

 

I sighed blissfully. Stirring in bed, I rolled over.

This was the first time in my life that I'd slept in a double bed. After four nights at the Beaumont family home, the novelty of being able to stretch out in all directions had not yet worn off.

My room was clean, spacious, and comfortable. The memory foam mattress was heavenly, and even if the window was small, it gave an outstanding view of the property garden - a garden so big I could not see the end of it.

I looked out the window from the comfortable warmth of the down duvet. The sky was blue, the sun bright. It was deceptive as I knew the February wind would be biting.

I looked at the clock. It was already 8:20 a.m. Timmy had had a great night, only waking up three times for food and diaper changes. It was like he was adapting to his new lush environment as well.

He seemed more peaceful, so maybe it was true what they said. Babies did respond to their family stress levels and mine had gone dramatically down since I'd learned that Timmy would always have food and be warm over the winter.

My bladder squeezed, a painful reminder of my need to pee.

You’ll have to wait a few more minutes. Dean’s appointed nurse would be knocking on my bedroom at 8:30 a.m. sharp as she had done my first morning here. She would do it twice a week and sometimes for random checks.

I rolled my eyes. Once a week would have been more than enough, but the overzealous Dean Beaumont was just so hell-bent on seeing me fail.

Little did he know that me seeing my sister go down the hell of drug use had been so traumatic that I’d never even touched a joint.

A sharp knock at the door brought me back to reality and I looked down at my duvet wistfully. Despite my need to pee, I was quite reluctant to leave the amazing warmth and comfort of my bed.

Sighing, I left the warm cocoon to open the door.

“Morning, Susan,” I said with a smile at the scowling elderly nurse standing in front of my door, a sample pot in her hand.

I wanted to call her Nurse Ratched, who I suspected was her nursing inspiration, but she disliked me enough as it was.

Susan gestured toward the bathroom. “If you please.”

Sure, because I really have a choice. I walked ahead of her into the bathroom and did my business under her eyes, which were full of judgment and reproach. I wondered what Dean might have told her about me, but I didn’t care enough to actually ask.

“Here you go. Have a nice day.” I extended the sample to her.

She nodded her head sharply and exited the room as rigidly as she'd come in.

I shook my head. I would not let this woman, her invasion of my privacy, or Dean Beaumont's scheming ruin this for me.

I took a shower and dressed for the day before checking on Timmy.

“Could you be more adorable?” I asked him with a smile as I found him playing quietly in his white crib.

Of all the rooms I'd seen in this house, Timmy’s bedroom was my least favorite. While state-of-the-art, the room was all white and impersonal. No care had been put into it and that was sad.

Did Dean intend to raise him like that? Without warmth or love? I sighed, picking Timmy up to give him a bath.

"That will not happen, sweet boy," I cooed, kissing his head and rubbing my forefinger against his chest, over his little sick heart. "I’ll always fight to stay with you."

I put him back in his bassinet, dressed him in warm clothes, and made him a bottle. I liked that I had everything in my room - the fridge and the bottle warmer included. It would have taken me forever to go into the kitchen and make him his bottle back home.

My stomach growled as I made him burp. I thought about the plate of food that would be set in front of me if I went into the kitchen.

I had to admit that I've been enjoying just stepping into the kitchen and having a plate of delicious food appear in front of me.

Having a full stomach, having access to food all the time, was the most luxurious thing to me.

Much more than this house and its gigantic garden, even more so than the library and its hundreds of books.

I walked down the corridor, heading toward the kitchen. Timmy sat securely in his baby carrier against my chest.

The more I walked down these halls, the more I discovered small details, leading me to suspect that the ominous, gloomy atmosphere of this house was more due to the present owner and the drama that had happened here rather than the building itself.

I let my fingers trail against the refined wooden moldings fresco on my way to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Ms. Collins. Did you have a good night?” Mrs. James, the housekeeper asked, as she set a plate of waffles and a glass of orange juice on the table for me.

“Very good, Mrs. James. This is the best bed I've ever slept in.”

I saw some compassion and sadness flash in her eyes as she helped me put Timmy in the baby booster feeding seat.

This woman had been nothing like I'd expected.

After Dean's rebuttal and barely veiled hatred in my apartment, I'd expected all of his staff to give me the cold shoulder as well. But where he has been mean, they have been kind. Where he has been dismissive, they have been inclusive, and where he has been cold, they have been warm.

Mrs. James was older than I'd expected. She told me she’d been working here since the Beaumont family had moved in.

She explained that the house was mostly unoccupied and running on a skeleton crew, which still counted seven staff members. That apparently was minimalist in the rich world.

“How is your grandson?” I asked in between mouthfuls of buttery goodness. “Did he make the team?”

She smiled, nodding. “Yes, he did. He is ecstatic. He's the only sophomore to make varsity.”

“That’s great!” I turned to Timmy. "Maybe he’ll show Timmy how to play one day."

“Yes, of course!” We were good at pretending that Timmy's heart was not sick, that he was okay and would be able to play sports one day.

“What are your plans today? Will Young Master Beaumont behave?”

I chuckled, looking at Timmy trying to chew his giraffe. “You have to stop calling him Young Master Beaumont. He’s just Timmy! You can call him Timmy, you know.”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, Miss, I’m afraid I can’t. This young man is the Beaumont heir. There’s a certain hierarchy to preserve, Miss.”

“I just -” I looked at Timmy again, who was now looking at me curiously with his big green eyes. “Mr. Beaumont is barely here; you can call him Timmy.” It was true. Since I'd moved in, I'd seen him only briefly - a few glimpses in corridors or opened doors, but he'd never spoken another word to me. I could count the sightings of him on the fingers of one hand, not that I would complain. I could do without his animosity.

“He is always here, dear,” she said, and while her voice was amicable, her eyes contained a clear warning. He was watching me.

She removed my plate as I patted my stomach. “Your food is beyond amazing. I will be sad once I move out. My signature dish is boxed macaroni and cheese.”

She threw me a look of horror. “Oh no!” She shook her head, wiping her hands on her apron. “That won’t do. Would you like me to teach you?”

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