Maid to Match Read Online Free Page A

“The rims and legs of the tables along with the backs and legs of the chairs and sofas need to be rubbed vigorously.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” She’d assumed she’d been called in because of the little episode she’d had on the way to town. Never did it occur to her Alice had done shoddy work in the tapestry gallery.
    “It’s very unlike you, Tillie.”
    “Yes, ma’am. It won’t happen again.” She wasn’t about to shift the blame to Alice. Part of her trial period was to delegate her responsibilities to others when she had need to. With the trip to Asheville, she’d needed to.
    Still, as head parlormaid, those downstairs rooms were her domain. She’d see to it Alice didn’t miss so much as an inch of furniture next time.
    Mrs. Winter removed the glasses perched on her nose. Her blue eyes gentled. “I understand you comported yourself quite well in town today.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.” Here it comes .
    “Mrs. Vanderbilt was suitably impressed.”
    But . . .
    “In a day or two she and Lucy will be going about the estate. Mrs. Vanderbilt intends to take a census of all staff members and their families.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “During that time, Bénédicte will give you a tour of Mrs. Vanderbilt’s bedroom, closets, and drawers. It is important you memorize everything’s exact place and Mrs. Vanderbilt’s preferences.”
    She was still in the running. A thrill shot through her. “Yes, ma’am.”
    Putting her glasses back on, the housekeeper made a notation on the paper in front of her. “That will be all.”

CHAPTER
Four
    Mack stepped out of the barbershop and ran a hand across his cheek, trying to adjust to the smoothness of his face. He planned to stop by the police chief’s office to see what could be done about the director of the orphanage, but he knew the chief wouldn’t take him seriously unless he cleaned up.
    First stop had been the bathhouse. His clothes had been so filthy, they’d insisted on delivering them to the laundry while he bathed, then loaning him clean ones until his could be scoured. It wasn’t that he enjoyed living in filth, it was just his employer didn’t allow the nighttime janitor to make use of the hotel’s wash bins or bathtubs. Not even a tin bath. And he didn’t have money to spare for a bathhouse. Every cent was put toward the day he could get Ora Lou out of Sloop’s orphanage.
    He took a deep breath. It felt great to be clean again. Cutting across Mule Alley and down Saloon Row, a buzzing fly pestered his ear while the smell of alcohol died on the breeze.
    A squatty brick laundry house sat at the end of the road. He thought it ironic to have a place like that tucked behind the town’s red light district. On second thought, maybe it was fitting. Sometimes you had to pass through the dirt before you could get yourself clean.
    Of course, the city fathers hadn’t meant anything profound about life. They just wanted to keep the billowing steam and drying clothes out on Asheville’s edges.
    He stepped through the laundry door, a blanket of wet heat immediately enveloping him. A whiff of lye and enough bleach on the air to sting his lungs momentarily cut off his oxygen. Rubbing boards, scrubbing brushes, and a big iron mangle took up most of the room. Just inside, a young woman worked tub and posser like a butter churn, her shoulders wide, her neck as thick as a man’s, while her granny reached for one of the irons heating on the hob.
    The washer girl paused, swiping a hand across her brow. “Earl? What’re you broguin’ about in the middle of the week fer? Ain’t you supposed to be up at the Big House?”
    Mack hesitated. It had been a long time since someone had mistaken him for Earl.
    She placed a fist on her waist. “Well, come on in and set ya a cheer. I been meaning to talk to you anyways. Something’s gotta be done about that sister of yourn over at Sloop’s.”
    Frowning, he closed the door. “My sister?”
    “Aw, don’t act like ya don’t