WORTHY, Part 1 (28 page)

Time moved strangely when I didn’t have a lot to mark it with. About a month had passed from the last stand I’d taken with Jonathan and Violet. It was hard to believe that any time passed at all. I still woke up, ate breakfast, and struggled to fill the hours of my day until Jonathan came home.

One afternoon, I was signing up for online classes at Northwestern on my iPad. It was quiet in the house that day—too quiet, I realized, as I looked back on it. For a change of scenery from Jonathan’s floor, I was on the first level, draped over a couch in the same game room we’d retired to after the disastrous Wharton family dinner. The room didn’t hold great memories for me, but with Violet out of our lives, I was willing to look past the room’s weaknesses. Its biggest strength was that it was quiet during the daytime, and hardly anyone went in.

After I finished registering—I’d start the classes after the first of the year—I purchased the course materials that would accompany them and checked my email. There were tons of messages from the store that usually kept me in groceries and various other things I needed around the property. Most of them were promotional newsletters and coupons, but there was one personal one.

“Michelle, I hope this finds you well,” it read. “We were wondering why you hadn’t ordered anything in a while and we hoped you were doing well. Please get in contact with us if you need anything. In fact, just get in contact with us. We want to make sure you’re all right.”

I fired off a quick email, apologizing that I’d caused them any concern and wishing them well. I explained that I’d moved out of the cottage for a while, but would certainly employ their services again when I returned.

Not “if.” “When.”

I was puzzling out my choice of wording—did I really think that, even now, I would be returning to the cottage?—when the atmosphere in the game room changed.

I glanced up at the entrance to the room and jumped, gasping and covering my pounding heart with one hand.

“Amelia!” I cried softly. “You scared me.”

She was standing at the entrance with her arms crossed, staring at me. I hadn’t heard a sound amid my own deep thoughts. Puzzled, I watched her face wrinkle into a scowl.

“It’s Mrs. Wharton to you,” she informed me. “What are you doing, girl?”

I tried to convince myself not to be stung by her tone or her formality, but I was failing completely.

“I’ve just signed up for classes at Northwestern,” I said, holding up the iPad. “I’ll start after the new year. I’m taking five totally different ones to see what I’m interested in. It was so helpful for Jane to recommend environmental science when we first met. I’m most excited about that class.”

“And how are you paying for it?” Amelia inquired in that same high, cold tone.

“Jonathan is insisting that he pay for it,” I said, frowning. I didn’t like this line of questioning; it felt like an interrogation. “I have some money, too, but he wouldn’t let me use it.”

“Don’t pretend you have money like Wharton money,” she snapped, sharp as the edge of a shard of glass. “I know that you’re just here to freeload.”

I paled. What was Jonathan’s mother getting at? “I have an inheritance from my parents’ passing,” I said, trying to stay as calm as possible. “And I’m not here to freeload. I agree, though, that I have been idle for too long. That’s why I’m excited about taking these courses. I’m hoping that I’ll extend my circle of friends and develop hobbies, as well.”

“I have some ideas for you to help occupy your time,” Amelia said, glowering.

I swallowed. “I would love suggestions,” I said, trying with all my might to retain a positive tone of voice. “You know, I really admire you for all of your event planning and service work. If there was anything you ever needed in that realm, I would be more than happy to help.”

Amelia shook her head. “That’s not the kind of work I had in mind for the likes of you,” she said. “I’ve heard that you’re close with one of the staff members here at the house. Is that true?”

Where was this going? “I really like Lucy,” I said slowly. “She’s been very kind to me. I don’t know that we’re close, but I do really appreciate her—and everything she’s done.”

“Well, why don’t you help out around here, at the house?” Amelia said. She framed it as a question, but I heard it for what it was: an order.

“I have, several times, offered to clean up Jonathan’s floor and put things together for us in the kitchen,” I said haltingly. “Everyone is usually very surprised when I try to do something and refuses me. Know this: I am more than capable of doing things myself. Do I need to remind you that I lived out in the wilderness—by myself—and thrived?”

“I don’t take that tone from anyone, least of all my own staff members,” Amelia said. “You’ll start cleaning my area of the house, effective immediately, from nine until noon. That way, you’ll stay out from underfoot and still have time to do whatever else you might to ward off idleness. You will answer to me, and only me.”

I wasn’t sure that I was hearing the words coming out of Amelia’s mouth correctly. Did she just make me her servant?

“I appreciate your concern for my time,” I said.

“I hope you do,” Amelia said. “Another staff member lost their position to accommodate yours.”

“Who?” I asked, feeling terrible and guilty. Why was Amelia doing this? Did she thrive in evilness when she wasn’t doing charity?

“Why, Lucy,” Amelia said. “I thought she’d appreciate the break after running around and doing things for you all the time.”

My whole body went cold as Amelia watched me expectantly, waiting for my reaction. It was all I could do to remain seated. Lucy had been my friend here. She’d been my friend from the first, and she’d gone above and beyond the call of duty to help me adjust to life at the compound. Was she paying for that now? Was Amelia punishing her just for being friendly to me?

“Well, you’re getting a late start today,” Amelia said, glancing at the fine watch around her wrist. “But I bet you can have my quarters cleaned before five. Second floor. Go on.”

What could I say to the woman who was going to be my mother-in-law? Should I tell her to go to hell? What evilness would she concoct if I did? Who would she sack next? Would she tell Jonathan that I was being rude to her? Who would he believe?

“Winston has your cleaning supplies ready for you,” Amelia said, raising her eyebrows at me. “Are you really going to put this off any longer? I don’t think it would be wise.”

I clamped my mouth shut and set my iPad aside. I didn’t want to give her any more material to throw back in my face. I would clean Amelia’s quarters—whatever that entailed—and then decide what to do. It wasn’t as if I was offended by being asked to clean. I’d wanted nothing more than a task to do to contribute ever since I’d arrived in the city. But the fact that she’d fired Lucy was a personal jab at me. This was meant to anger and humiliate me, so all I could do was keep my face as placid as possible.

I walked out of the game room, Amelia following me closely, and found Winston in the foyer by the stairs.

“Miss Michelle,” he said, holding his hand out to a small rolling cart. “This is your cleaning station. Within it, you will find everything you need to see to Mrs. Wharton’s quarters.”

I looked at him, but his face betrayed no emotions.

“Thank you, Winston,” I said.

I pushed the cart to the elevator and got inside. Amelia remained outside.

“I don’t ride elevators with the help,” she said. “I think it breeds familiarity.”

The doors rolled shut, and I let my shoulders slump. Had I pissed in Amelia’s cereal in some way to invite this kind of attack? What was I going to do to respond to this?

I didn’t have much time to ponder as the doors rolled open to the second floor. I’d never been on this floor and had to admit that I was a little bit curious about it. But even that emotion soured when I saw Amelia, smiling tightly as she waited for me. Had she taken the stairs in twos just so she could be there when I rolled the cleaning cart out of the elevator? If she’d belonged to a different generation, she would’ve been taking video with her smartphone.

“You’ll start by picking up and straightening up,” Amelia said. “Then you will clean. And I mean clean every surface. I want it to sparkle, and if I find a speck of dust, you will do everything again.”

I didn’t honor that with a response. I was an excellent cleaner. I cleaned my cottage every day.

Of course, my cottage wasn’t draped with designer clothes on every surface. My cottage wasn’t even as big as the second floor—where Amelia and Collier coexisted.

I started picking up the clothes and moving them to the closet, hanging them up as I went. Had she emptied her closet—or had another staff member do it—just so I would have more work to do? I decided to be as boring as possible. Maybe Amelia wouldn’t take as much pleasure in watching me if I kept my face calm, still.

It took me a good forty-five minutes before I had all the clothes put away.

“I expect clean sheets on my bed every day,” Amelia told me, so I immediately stripped the bed and bundled the linens in the basket on the cart. After I remade the bed, I remembered that Lucy had brought us fresh towels every day. I took the towels in the bathroom and replaced them before cleaning every surface with a bleach solution. I scrubbed the tiles in the shower until they gleamed. The mirror sparkled with nary a water spot. I organized and arranged the assortment of toiletries spread over the counter, then moved back in to the bedroom to dust, sweep, and mop.

Amelia looked bored—good—and I had no problem completing the tasks she’d set out for me by four. I loaded up the cart, took it back to the first floor, and left it with Winston.

“Very good, Miss Michelle,” he said, taking it from me.

“I’ll admit that you did better than I thought you would,” Amelia said from the second floor landing, making me look up at her. “But I hope you know that no son of mine is going to marry a glorified cleaning lady.”

She vanished from view, but it was just as well. My face contorted in fury and angry tears welled in my eyes. No. No. She wasn’t going to make me cry. If she made me cry, she’d win.

I took the elevator up to Jonathan’s floor and stripped off my clothes, wondering who was cleaning the area now that Lucy was sacked. That was really the worst part of this situation—that Lucy had been fired because of Amelia’s hatred for me. I could deal with picking up the old woman’s messes. But that someone else should suffer? That was so much worse.

I was showering when I decided not to tell Jonathan. It would stun him to realize what a shrew his mother was. I wondered if the old him—the one with full possession of his memories—had ever realized the truth. Amelia hid this side of herself well with all of her giving back to the community and charity events. But now I knew, and I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Hey, baby.”

I jumped as Jonathan popped his head into the bathroom.

“Hey,” I said. “You home early?”

“It’s just after five,” he said, checking his watch.

I realized I had been standing under the water of the shower for more than an hour, and hurriedly turned it off.

“How was your day?” he asked as I wrapped myself in a towel.

Horrible, I could’ve said. “Fine,” I said instead, giving him a peck on the lips, mindful of my dripping hair. “How was yours?”

That was usually enough to distract Jonathan. He was trying so hard to get back into the swing of work, and, to hear him tell it, he was making great strides. People were working harder because he was, and the extra boost really had helped with productivity. They were back on track with projects and initiatives that had fallen by the wayside during Jonathan’s absence. If only I could convince him to disappear again. Maybe we could escape his vindictive mother.

“Hey, are you there?” he asked, smiling at me. “I was asking if you wanted to go out somewhere for dinner.”

I shook my head free of my thoughts and forced a smile. “Sure,” I said. “Anywhere.”

Jonathan had enough on his mind. He didn’t need to worry about how his fiancée and his mother were getting along on top of all that. I’d deal with this.

Every day that I cleaned Amelia’s quarters, there seemed to be a new indignity to suffer. I knew she and Collier didn’t live like slobs, but it appeared that she was trying to make my job harder. An entire month passed of me acting like Amelia’s servant in the morning and pretending that nothing was happening in the evening when Jonathan got home. I felt like it gave me whiplash part of the time. I was really desperate to keep Jonathan from knowing. He didn’t need this drama in his life.

One morning on the second floor, there was mud smeared all over the tiles in the bathroom. Another day, there was a long line of red lipstick across the mirror. The worst part was that Amelia always watched me like a hawk, smirking whenever I happened to glance at her on accident.

Finally, when she actually laughed the day she—or someone—had scattered crumbs of dirt across every inch of carpeting in the bedroom, I snapped.

“Why is this so entertaining to you?” I demanded. “Unlike some people, I don’t mind a little hard work, a little hands-on labor.”

“That’s what the lower classes tell themselves as a comfort,” Amelia shot back.

I bit my tongue. I wasn’t lower class, not that there was anything wrong with that, but it wouldn’t do to let her rankle me even more than she already had.

“I just don’t understand why you get such pleasure out of this,” I said. “I’ve wanted nothing more since I got here than to help out. If you think this is a punishment, you’re wrong. I like working with my hands. I’m just sorry that you’re wasting your time with all of these little extra tasks. The mud. The lipstick. The crumbs. Why don’t you let a skunk loose in here? That would really make things interesting.”

“You’re not going to marry my son,” Amelia snarled. “You’re a low-born whore with her eyes on this family’s money. You want gratitude for helping him when he was injured? Thank you. Now leave.”

“We love each other,” I said. “I know that might be a hard concept for someone like you to grasp. But we really love each other. That’s why I’m still here, enduring all this. I will outlast you, Mrs. Wharton.”

“I doubt that,” she said, her response coming so easily that it gave me a little pause. How could she be so sure of herself? I’d been cleaning up after her for more than a month, for God’s sake. I was willing to put up with anything for Jonathan.

I could’ve walked away. That’s what I told myself. I could’ve just walked away and told Amelia to go to hell. But doing so would’ve started a war that I didn’t want to be a part of. It was better if it appeared that Amelia and I were tolerating each other. I really didn’t want to stress Jonathan out.

So when I turned on the shower that evening, waiting for the water to get steaming hot to wash away the day’s toil, I let myself cry out all my frustrations. It was so hard. With Lucy gone, I was just that much more alone. I didn’t have anyone I could go to with this.

“Michelle?”

I jumped out of my skin and quickly wiped my face before turning around.

“Jon, you really have to stop sneaking up on me like that,” I said, laughing nervously. “You’re going to give me a heart attack or something.”

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

“I’m not crying,” I said, wiping my face again. “It’s the shower. I got in and got out real fast. That’s all.”

Jonathan’s face fell. “I don’t know what you’re not telling me,” he said. “But I know it’s been going on for a long time. Does it have to do with Violet and me?”

If I were being perfectly honest, it did, in a way. We’d just overcome that challenge, and I didn’t want my fiancé knowing that we had another problem to face. Even if it hurt both of us for me to sneak around, I still thought it was better than the alternative—full disclosure of how awful his mom really was.

“No, Jon,” I said, smiling. “You just surprised me.”

“Every time I come home early from work, you’re taking a shower and your dirty clothes smell like bleach,” he said. “Are you sure there’s not anything you want to tell me?”

“Nope,” I said as cheerfully as I could muster. “Just getting clean for you when you come home.”

“Speaking of clean, have you seen Lucy around?” Jonathan asked as he set his briefcase down.

“No, why?” I asked carefully.

“I don’t know,” he said. “She always told me to have a good day as I headed out to the office, and I feel like it’s been a while since I’ve seen her around. You haven’t seen her at all?”

“No,” I said again, clasping my hands together and holding them tight. I really didn’t want to get into this. He was closer to the truth than he could possibly know. He studied my face for a long time, and I fought so hard not to give anything away.

“Michelle,” Jonathan said patiently. “You know you can tell me anything.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. It would be the easiest thing in the world right now just to spill my guts, to lay it all out there for him and have an ally in my corner. But I couldn’t do that. Not when he thought everything was going so well.

“Baby. I know something’s wrong.”

A tear wormed its way down my cheek, and I sniffled. I wasn’t going to be able to hide this anymore. Jonathan was too perceptive. He knew my moods way too well.

It all came out in a rush—how I was cleaning his mother’s quarters, how she’d fired Lucy to pick away at me, how she was convinced I was a gold digger and how she’d told me I’d never marry him. I was sobbing by the time I was done.

“But you can’t tell her I told you,” I wept. “It would mean she won.”

Jonathan shook his head and smiled at me, but it was more like a gritting of teeth. He turned on his heel and strode off.

“Jonathan!” I cried after him, running to catch up. “You can’t! You can’t!”

“I’m not going to let her terrorize you,” he said, grabbing my hand and hauling me along with him. “This ends now, Michelle. It’s been days since I’ve seen Lucy. How long has this been going on, exactly?”

He started marching us down the stairs.

“About a month,” I said, the steps bouncing the confession out of me.

Jonathan swore so loudly and terribly that it made even me blush, stopping at the second floor.

“Amelia!” he raged, pounding on the closed bedroom door. “Open up!”

Her shocked face appeared at the door.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, but Jonathan cut her off with a slashing movement of his hand.

“You are not to treat the woman I am going to marry like your servant,” he said. “You will show her—and me—the respect we deserve. Is that clear?”

“Is that what she told you?” Amelia asked, laughing nervously and cutting her eyes at me. I was hanging on to Jonathan’s hand, tears still running down my face. “That’s just not true.”

“Don’t lie to me!” he roared, making both of us jump. Jonathan was angrier than I had ever seen him before. “I will cut you from my life, do you understand? I’m trying to know you, and this makes me wish that I wouldn’t even make the effort. What are you?”

“Jonathan, please,” Amelia whispered. “That’s—that’s too harsh.”

“You can’t do that,” I said quietly. Both Jonathan and Amelia stared at me. “She’s your mother, Jonathan. Like it or not. You can’t just cut her out of your life. I wish—I wish I still had my mother. Never wish your mother away.”

I started sobbing, devastated that everything had come to this. This was what I’d feared—that Jonathan would find out and everything would go to hell.

I heard rather than saw him take a deep breath and hug me.

“Mom, I would like to talk to you about what has been going on between you and my fiancée,” he said. “Can I talk with you downstairs, please? Maybe over some coffee? Like two civilized people? Can we do that?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Amelia said. “Right away.”

She started downstairs, and Jonathan kissed me on the brow.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and wait for me?” he asked, bending to look into my eyes. “I’ll take care of everything, okay?”

Was it going to be as simple as that? All I could do was nod and watch him trot downstairs to join Amelia.

“Why haven’t we had tapas yet?” Jane asked, surprising me with her very presence just as much as her non sequitur as I turned on the stairs.

“We did say we were going,” I remembered, reflecting back on the disastrous family dinner. I wiped my face free from tears quickly, realizing I probably looked awful. If Jane noticed, she didn’t say anything.

“Oh no, I said we were fucking going, if I recall correctly,” Jane said. “My poor parents. Jonathan and I spent a few too many of our formative years under the tutelage of a former drill sergeant who was something of a nanny figure. Our parents thought it would build character and discipline, but that’s where we picked up our foul mouths.”

“That’s interesting,” I said, trying to reconcile the images of a nanny in an apron with a drill sergeant barking insults. It was enough to make me smile a little.

“So, tapas,” Jane said. “You’ll let me know when you’re free?”

I was free every day, but I didn’t want to sound pathetic.

“Definitely,” I said.

Jane waited almost expectantly, and I realized that Jonathan’s very loud fight with Amelia had echoed up the stairway.

“You heard everything just now, didn’t you?” I asked, grimacing.

“Yeah,” Jane said. “Sucks. Sorry my mom’s a total bitch sometimes.”

I gave a shocked titter. “I really didn’t want Jonathan to know. I thought I could just deal with it.”

“You need people in your corner when you’re trying to deal with her,” Jane said. “Trust me. I know these things. Tapas, then? Let me know? Promise?”

“Of course,” I said, smiling. “I’d love to.”

I finished walking up the stairs to Jonathan’s floor and realized the shower was still running. The water was so hot that steam filled the bathroom, and I turned the temperature down before shucking off my clothes and stepping in. I figured I could at least have a shower while I waited for Jonathan to finish hashing things out with his mother. What a mess today had become. I tried to wash all the bad feelings off me with the scalding water.

Wrapped in a robe, I padded to the bedroom and was surprised to find Jonathan sitting on the bed, his head in his hands.

“Jon?”

He looked up and held his hand out to me. I took it, and he pulled me to him.

“I love you,” he said. “But you need to tell me when something’s wrong. Secrets aren’t healthy for us. And when I can help you, that’s what I want to do. There’s no reason for you to suffer like you did with this.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, bowing my head. “I just didn’t want to be a wedge driven between you and Amelia.”

“She needs to understand that we’re getting married,” he said. “That’s why I gave her the task of planning our wedding.”

I felt all the blood rush from my head and had to sit down quickly.

“What?”

“I told her that I was entrusting the wedding plans to her,” he said.

“You’re making her plan our wedding for us as a punishment?” I asked, my mouth hanging open.

“She’s answering to you,” Jonathan said. “You have the final say in everything. She’s just going to be making everything happen. She’s a professional at it, and I think it would be good to keep her busy doing something positive for a change.”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Jon,” I said slowly, rubbing his arm. “Your mother hates me.”

“She needs to get over it,” he said simply. “And I think this is a really good way. She’ll know what it’s like to take orders from you.”

“I’m not going to order her around.”

“And Lucy is rehired,” Jonathan added. “Effective immediately.”

“Oh, thank God,” I said. “That was the worst part, Jon. Did she agree to come back? I don’t know if I would’ve, having to answer to Amelia.”

“When I explained everything to her on the phone, she said she’d start back tomorrow,” Jonathan said. “She cares about you.”

“Thank you,” I said, hugging him close to me.

“You need to trust me,” Jonathan said, brushing my wet hair out of my face. “Lean on me like I lean on you so heavily. That’s the only way we’re going to stay standing.”

“All right.”

We stayed silent for a long time, just holding each other. Finally, Jonathan cleared his throat.

“So,” he said. “Tell me what our wedding’s going to be like.”

I smiled. “I’d like it to be in the spring,” I said. “I haven’t really thought of everything, but that’s one thing I’d want.”

“That’s not very far away,” Jonathan said. “Might be tough to get everything organized by then.”

“I’m sure Amelia can handle it,” I said, smiling a little wickedly.