The Secret Heiress. Bethany Campbell
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him’s like staring up at a giraffe.”
Bindy laughed, then suddenly looked alarmed. She went pale. “Oh, dear! I see Miss Fairchild’s car! She’s home early. I need to change my apron. And hide my book. She hates it if she catches me sitting about reading.”
She snatched her mystery novel off the counter and rushed to the restroom off the kitchen, just as Mrs. Lipton ran in from the dining room. “She’s here, she’s here. I must make coffee,” she cried. “She’s at least an hour early.”
“She’s driven all this way alone?” Marie asked.
“No, no. The deputy housekeeper drives, Agnes. Have you started those desserts yet? Oh, my God, she’ll be expecting her coffee and a lovely snack.”
“I’ve done a banana meringue with raspberry-brandy sauce,” Marie said. “I can have it ready in a few moments.”
“Bless you, my girl,” Mrs. Lipton panted, flying about the kitchen. “Oh, Lord, I hear them at the front door. Can you do the espresso? I must go greet her.”
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