Sweet Little Thing - Page 15/36

I’d made several waffles, unsure who I would be feeding. So the only thing that took any time preparing Winston’s meal was squeezing the oranges in the juicer. Once I had his freshly squeezed juice, I carried his breakfast to the table.

“You’re going to have to discuss it with him sooner or later,” Jasper was saying as I walked back in.

“I didn’t ask you,” Stone replied.

Jasper smirked and turned his attention to me. “He’s always such a joy. Have you noticed that?”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even smile. I placed his food in front of him and stood back to see if there was anything else they needed.

“I plan on staying around this morning and speaking with Portia. If you’d like to be present I’m fine with that.”

I paused then. He was going to talk to her about Heidi and me? Why she helped us? That meant he’d possibly get the answers I had been curious about myself. Not that I wasn’t thankful for all she’d done, but because she knew my mother. She knew her once and I wanted to know how. I missed my mother and had no one to talk to about her. No friends to remember her with. Bringing her up when I was with Heidi always confused her. I had tried that once and it hadn’t gone well.

If Portia knew momma and could talk with me about her, I wanted that. I wanted anything Portia could offer. Any link to her. “I’d like that,” I told him.

Stone stopped mid-bite, his fork almost to his mouth. “What did I miss?”

Jasper looked at me and it was as if unspoken words were exchanged. With just a look I understood his question and he understood my answer. I’d never experienced that before. “Just Portia being Portia. I need to lay down some rules for her to follow regarding Beulah—she also works for me. Mother isn’t remembering that is all.”

Stone turned his gaze to me and I saw the accusation in his eyes. He thought I had lied about my job. That I was hiding it. I had the urge to defend myself but I didn’t. What he thought of me didn’t matter.

“Meet me in the great room at ten. She’ll be in her whiskey by then I’m sure,” he said.

I nodded my head once, then left the room.

“You’ve got your own shit to deal with. Jesus, the drama. Stay out of mine,” I heard Stone say to him.

Jasper chuckled. “But yours is more fun to discuss.”

“Because you like to pretend your life is fucking peaches.”

“My life has never been peaches. But then neither has yours. Now, tell me. Has your mother picked out the engagement ring she intends for you to give Margot?”

Whoever Margot was, I felt sympathy for her. No amount of good looks and money could make living with Stone a pleasant thing. But he hadn’t mentioned my job. That was surprising. I had expected he wanted to get me in trouble. It seemed to be his way of doing things.

Thinking about that and poor Margot was pointless. I pushed it aside and thought of other things. Like how many nights I could go without sleeping only three hours before I crashed. I made myself a thermos of coffee and carried it with me as I went to the second floor to do the weekly dusting and changing of linens for beds that no one ever slept in.

The only real thing needed on that floor was dusting and the floors had to be swept. Everything else stayed spotless because no one was ever up there. Portia’s master suite was on the third floor. I only went up there when she was gone for the day. She liked her privacy.

The next three hours passed by swiftly, and I was checking my watch every ten minutes waiting for ten o’clock to arrive. The idea Portia might be able to tell me something about my mother might not seem like a big deal, but to me it meant so much. Anything to understand why she’d sent us here. A small piece of her past. To hear her talked about again.

At ten, I put the cleaning supplies away and made my way to the great room. My eyes locked with Jasper’s as I entered and he gave me a small smile. It wasn’t much, but it was encouraging. Like I wasn’t alone and he was my friend. I knew that wasn’t the case, but it felt like it.

“Why is she here? I assume this is about her other job. Yes, I knew, and if you have a problem with it then deal with it yourself.” Portia didn’t even glance my way. “I need my coffee, Beulah. Where have you been?”

Jasper cleared his throat and got my attention then motioned for me to take a seat. “Please Beulah, ignore her and sit down.”

Portia’s head snapped up from the iPad in her lap that she’d been studying. “What?”

“I want to talk to you. I have questions. I feel that Beulah should be in here for this. Now, let’s begin with how you knew Beulah’s mother. You and I both know you don’t have a kind bone in your body. So why did you so willingly help these two girls?”

Portia’s gaze swung to me. “You told him?”

“I had to. He needed to understand why I was working a second job.”

She sighed dramatically and slung her iPad down on the sofa beside her with obvious disgust. “I help you and this is the thanks I get. Do you understand that he could take all that back? Demand a refund? Are you that dense girl?”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I stilled and waited, dropping my gaze from hers to study my hands.

“Father left me this house, the money, the investments, and the corporation. His will stated that I was to do with you whatever I pleased. If I chose to take care of you, fine. If not, you’d find another man to leech off. So, mother, I’d be more careful how you speak to Beulah. All she did was tell me what you should have already explained. Since it was my money that was helping Heidi, I’d like to know why you did it. What do you owe Beulah and Heidi’s mother? Because you don’t do things out of the kindness of your heart. There must be something you’re hiding. I need to know what that is.”

Portia glared at me. I could feel it burning through me where I stood. But I didn’t look up. I felt guilty. She’d helped me, and now here I sat with Jasper who was talking to her in a way I didn’t think was necessary, demanding she answer questions. I wasn’t here when he was growing up. I didn’t know the kind of mother that Portia was, but from the anger and bitterness in her son’s tone, I imagined it hadn’t been a happy home.

“I knew Pamela many years ago. She made some bad choices and went a different way in life. I don’t owe her a damn thing. No one does. She had passed away and I felt a connection and pity for the life she’d lived. She had so much potential when I knew her. But she,” Portia paused and I lifted my eyes to finally look at her. “She was stupid. Naïve. It got her nowhere. I was kind to a woman I once knew. That was all. I feel like I did my duty and whatever you choose to do with Beulah’s employment is fine with me. She’s had plenty of time to figure out a way to take care of Heidi and herself. She’s almost twenty. Past time she grew up.”

Nothing more than what she’d already said to me before. No explanation. No real connection to my mother, but my mother had known if we came here she would help us. Because I knew my mother, I didn’t believe what Portia was saying. She was hiding something. But why?

“Why would I fire Beulah? She’s an excellent cook, keeps the house clean and puts up with your bullshit. I’d say the only smart thing you’ve ever done in your life was hire her. I thought for a moment there you possessed some compassion I had missed when she told me how you helped her and Heidi. I see I’m wrong. That’s disappointing.”