Married To The Mop. Barbara Colley
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and trudged down the hall. She retrieved the broom, the dustpan, and a paper bag from the laundry room, but just before she stepped through the kitchen doorway into the hall, a noise caught her attention and she paused.
Whispers, she decided after listening a moment. Someone was whispering. The bodyguards? Or the children? It was certainly possible that the children had overheard their father’s rampage. They would have to be deaf not to have.
And I’m going to kill him just like he killed Papa, if he hurts Mama again.
Snippets of the conversation she’d overheard between Amanda and Brandon earlier flitted through her head. Fully expecting to see the two children hovering near the staircase, Charlotte stepped out of the kitchen. With a frown, she craned her head first one way, then another, searching the foyer area and the stairwell, but no one was there.
Now she was hearing things. “Great,” she muttered. Next thing, she’d be seeing ghosts. “Just peachy.”
Once back at the library door, Charlotte took a deep breath, knocked on the door frame a couple of times, then stepped inside.
Robert was standing with his back to her, hands on his hips, staring at the glass-enclosed shelves that contained his egg collection.
Charlotte cleared her throat. “Emily asked me to clean up the broken glass.”
Robert said nothing and didn’t bother to even acknowledge her presence. Feeling a bit uneasy, Charlotte looked around. The mess wasn’t hard to find. Broken glass and a bouquet of mangled silk flowers were scattered on the floor in front of the fireplace. It was an arrangement that she had noticed on the mantel earlier when she had cleaned the library. Robert must have somehow knocked them over during his fit of rage…. Before he’d punched Emily.
Charlotte’s unease grew even as her temper flared again. She walked over, bent down, gingerly picked up the silk flowers, and shook them gently to rid them of any shards of glass. Then she placed them back on the mantel.
As she swept the glass into the dustpan, she was careful to keep a wary eye on Robert. More than once she had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him just exactly what she thought. But each time she got the urge, her gaze strayed to the wall where his collections of weapons hung. There were handguns, rifles, and one particular nasty-looking gun large enough to kill an elephant. Then there were the knives, every size imaginable, the blades gleaming with menace. Charlotte shuddered.
By the time Charlotte had finished sweeping up the glass, Robert had yet to move a muscle, and he continued to stare at the eggs as if frozen or hypnotized.
With a one-shouldered shrug, Charlotte dumped the broken glass into the paper sack, then, armed with the sack, dustpan, and broom, she backed out of the room.
On Friday morning it was with great trepidation that Charlotte forced herself return to the Rossi household. True to Emily’s word, the bodyguards recognized her and allowed her to enter the house without searching her or her cleaning supplies.
Since Emily wasn’t at the door to greet her this time, Charlotte went straight to the kitchen and began cleaning.
Half an hour later she had just finished loading the dishwasher when Emily walked into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Charlotte.”
“Good morning.” Charlotte turned, but her smile of greeting melted. Emily was dressed and every hair on her head was in place, just like yesterday. But there was something different about her, something that Charlotte couldn’t quite put her finger on. For one thing, not even her makeup could cover the pallor of her face. But it was more than that. Emily’s eyes had a look of sadness tinged with a bit of fear, and there was a subdued air about her that made Charlotte want to reach out to comfort her and reassure her that whatever was wrong could be fixed.
“Are you feeling okay?” Charlotte asked.
Emily flashed her a tiny fake smile. “Just a bit tired. I didn’t sleep too well last night.” She shrugged. “Just stress. Guess I’m uptight about this party. And speaking of the party, I want to decorate a bit and was hoping that you wouldn’t mind helping me. Not a lot,” she hastened to add. “Just a few things here and there.”
“I’ll be happy to help,” Charlotte reassured her. “But didn’t you want me to clean the carriage house today?”
Emily shrugged and waved away Charlotte’s concern. “You can always clean it tomorrow. Getting ready for the party is more important. I think we should start right after lunch. Will that give you enough time for your other chores?”
“No problem,” Charlotte told her.
Immediately after lunch, Emily instructed the bodyguard named Mark to bring down some boxes from the attic. There were three large boxes in all, which Mark placed on the floor in the kitchen, per Emily’s directions.
When Emily bent down to open the first box, a small moan escaped her lips. Wincing, she placed her hand on her stomach.
She’s sore from being punched. Charlotte felt her temper rising. Mind your own business.
At the moment, the last thing Charlotte felt like was minding her own business, but when, after a moment, Emily resumed digging in the box, Charlotte tried to control her temper.
“I think the tinsel is in this one,” Emily said as she dug around in the box. “I thought we could drape it around in the parlor.”
It turned out that the purple, gold, and green Mardi Gras tinsel was in the last box they opened, and as they draped the shiny strands over the tops of the windows and around the door opening, Emily’s soft moans of pain came more often.
When all the tinsel was used up, Emily opened the second box that contained several large cardboard Mardi Gras masks. She handed Charlotte a stack of the masks. “I think we’ll hang these around the door casing on the parlor side and on the hall side.” She dug around in the box then pulled out several small packages. “We’ll use these to hang the masks.” She handed a package to Charlotte. “It’s mounting adhesive. It will hold them, but it will also come off without leaving a mark.”
While Charlotte worked on the hall side, Emily hung the masks on the parlor side. They were almost finished when the phone rang.
From the face that Emily made, it was clear that the interruption aggravated her. With a sigh, she walked over to a small table by the sofa and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
For several moments Emily simply listened, then, if possible, her face turned even paler than before. “What? You’ve got to be kidding!” Her voice shook with disbelief. “But—but what am I supposed to do?” she cried. Seconds later she hung up the receiver.
Since Emily looked as if she were going to pass out at any minute, Charlotte rushed over to her. “What’s wrong?”
Tears filled Emily’s eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. A low moan escaped her lips. “Th-that was Thomas with Big Easy Catering—the company catering the party. He’s still bringing the food, but”—she swiped at the tears on her cheeks and stared at the floor—“all of the servers he was providing are sick with the flu,” she said, her voice quivering. “He said that he’d try to find someone to help, but he doubted that anyone would be available.” She raised her head and stared at Charlotte. “There won’t be anyone to serve the food.” She glanced at the fat phone directory next to the telephone. “I—I could try to hire more servers, but with all of the Mardi Gras festivities going on…” She slowly shook her head. “Impossible. What am I going to do?”
Emily staggered over to the sofa and collapsed. Covering her eyes with her hands, she began to cry. “Robert will be furious,” she moaned. “And he’ll blame me if this party doesn’t go well.”
Charlotte rushed over to Emily and knelt down in front of her. “Surely he won’t blame you for something like this—I mean, after all, this type of thing is beyond your control.”
Emily