Chapter Five
The doorbell rings. I have fun turning my head to maid Andrea, waiting in perfect posture for my next command... perched on her heels, back straight, head up, hands folded as the back of her neck, eyes focused on the nothingness of the far wall. I nod to the door. In her nakedness... perhaps the silly cap and high heels bringing more self-awareness of her lowly status... there is reluctance.
“You need to answer the door, greet and curtsy to whomever visits here, Andrea,” I remind.
I am well aware that the task is horrifying for her, being exposed to persons unknown. But I know who it is, the compatriot of my friend Marsha Martin... Mrs. Larson. She is expected.
A petrified Andrea steps to the front door, trembling with apprehension. In opening there come humble words of gr
