Married To The Mop. Barbara Colley
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a father because of you, and I’ll be damned if I lose Mama too. I’ll see you in hell first!”
The voices faded as Charlotte tiptoed away from the library. Certain that at any minute, someone would come out of the library and catch her, she didn’t breathe easy until she reached the kitchen doorway.
“That’s what you get for eavesdropping,” she muttered, disgusted with herself for giving in to the temptation.
The words had no sooner left her lips than she heard the library door bang open and Joe’s voice echo down the hall. “This ain’t over, Robert!” he yelled. “Not by a long shot!”
He was finally leaving. Best to look busy. Charlotte hurried over to the sink. Seconds later Joe stomped through the kitchen and, without even a glance her way, stormed out the back door. For once, Charlotte was truly grateful that no one ever paid attention to the maid.
Charlotte jumped when the back door slammed shut. Someone should really teach that man some manners, she thought as his dire words kept swirling in her head. But if you go through with the Medina job, there will be payback.
With a shudder, Charlotte grabbed the mop she’d left propped against the sink cabinet, dunked it into the mop bucket then squeezed out the excess water. Best not to think about what she’d heard, she decided. And healthier. The sooner she finished her chores, the sooner she could leave. She slapped the mop onto the floor and began mopping as if her very life depended on how soon she could get the chore done.
She was almost halfway finished when she heard a commotion in the hallway and froze. What if Robert suspected that she’d overheard the confrontation? Though she kept telling herself that there was no way he could have known she was eavesdropping, she held her breath.
Footsteps went past the kitchen entrance, and Charlotte finally breathed. Maybe the guests were leaving.
“We’ll see you tomorrow night,” she heard one of the men tell Robert.
The footsteps continued on toward the front door. They were leaving, thank the good Lord.
“And don’t worry about Joe,” the man continued, his voice muffled but still audible. “He’ll come around.”
The man’s voice faded, but his words still echoed in Charlotte’s head. He’ll come around? What did that mean? Charlotte grabbed the mop bucket and headed for the laundry room. Had he meant that Joe would agree to putting Sophia in a home…? But if you go through with the Medina job, there will be payback…or had he meant that Joe would go along with whatever they had planned for the Medinas?
Charlotte took a deep breath. This is none of your business. Just do your job and get out. She hefted the mop bucket and dumped the dirty water into the laundry sink.
“Charlotte?”
Charlotte frowned at the sound of Sophia’s voice and hurried back into the kitchen.
Still pale and looking even more fragile than she had in the library earlier, Sophia attempted a weak smile. “There you are,” she said. “If anyone comes looking for me, I’ve gone up to my room and I’d rather not be disturbed.”
Charlotte gave the elderly lady a sympathetic smile. “I’ll be leaving soon. Before I leave though, can I get you anything to eat or drink?”
“Oh, bless your heart, but no, thank you.” Sophia shook her head. “I just need to rest a while. See you tomorrow. You are coming back tomorrow, aren’t you?”
Charlotte nodded. She had no choice. If she didn’t come back, Robert might get suspicious.
“Good. See you then.”
After Sophia disappeared, Charlotte began gathering her supplies. Within minutes she had everything rounded up. All she had left was to find Emily and let her know that she was leaving.
Suddenly a shout loud enough to wake the dead reverberated throughout the house and Charlotte jumped.
“Emily! Get in here!”
Charlotte frowned. Robert again. What now? She poked her head outside the kitchen doorway just in time to see Emily hurrying down the hall toward the library.
With intentions of catching Emily before she reached the library, so she could tell her that she was leaving, Charlotte called out, “Emily.” But Emily didn’t slow down or even indicate that she’d heard Charlotte.
“What’s wrong?” Emily asked when she reached the library doorway.
“Another one’s missing!” Robert snapped. “That’s what’s wrong.”
Another what was missing? Charlotte wondered, but as she moved closer, she heard Robert let loose a string of curse words that made her cringe with distaste, and she thought better of interrupting.
Emily stepped into the library. “There were twenty eggs when I counted this morning,” Robert shouted. “Now there are only seventeen. Three more are missing. That makes five in the past two weeks. I want to know who took them.”
Charlotte frowned as she eased back down the hall toward the kitchen. Emily hadn’t mentioned that someone was stealing the Fabergé eggs when she’d showed them to her earlier. Even so, that would explain why she had been so particular about the instructions she’d given.
“So where are they?” Robert yelled.
“I—I don’t know.” Emily’s voice quavered with fear. “Maybe one of the bodyguards is stealing them.”
Robert cursed, and at the sudden sound of a crash, Charlotte froze. “What on earth?” she whispered.
As if in answer to the question, sounds of deep wracking sobs erupted from inside the library. “No, please, Robert,” Emily pleaded in between sobs. “I don’t know who’s stealing them.” Her voice rose. “I’m sorry, I’m—”
The sudden silence unnerved Charlotte and her imagination went wild as flashes of Robert’s weapon collection flitted through her mind. Surely he wouldn’t…Charlotte shook her head as if the action would make the evil notion disappear. Torn between checking on Emily and minding her own business, she groaned in frustration. What to do? What to do?
Don’t be such a coward. Just do it.
Taking a deep breath and gathering her courage around her like a suit of armor, Charlotte took determined steps toward the library. She had almost reached the entrance when Emily suddenly appeared in the doorway, her face ravaged, her hands clutching her stomach. When Emily saw Charlotte, her red-rimmed eyes widened in startled surprise.
“I—I was just about to leave,” Charlotte told her softly.
Emily’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded. “Be-before you go,” she whispered, “c-could you please clean up the mess in the library? Th-there’s some broken glass.” Without another word, Emily brushed past her, but not before Charlotte saw her lean forward and wince as if in pain.
For several moments, all Charlotte could do was watch until Emily disappeared around the end of the hallway. Though she didn’t want to believe it, every bone in her body ached with outrage; deep down she knew what had happened. Just as sure as the sun rose in the east and set in the west, Charlotte was certain that Robert Rossi, in a fit of rage over the stupid missing eggs, had punched his wife in the stomach. Charlotte figured that this time he’d hit her in the stomach so there wouldn’t be visible bruises like the last time. After all, it wouldn’t look good for their party guests to speculate as to how Emily received a bruise on her face.
Charlotte glared furiously at the library door. Her temper flared and her outrage boiled within. Any man who hit a woman was reprehensible and a low-down coward. Someone should take Robert Rossi out and give him a good old-fashioned horse-whipping.
Slowly though, Charlotte’s fury subsided. When all was said and done, there wasn’t one thing she could do about the situation. She hadn’t actually witnessed the assault, so she couldn’t call