The Outsider Series: The Complete Omnibus Collection

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Andy took his time driving back to the estate. In fact, this was probably the first time he’d ever driven the speed limit and the first time he actually had cars passing him. He needed to think, all because Laura had stumped him. Not many had ever done that. The fact was that Andy read people really well. He’d have to be blind not to pick up on her discomfort and downright embarrassment about everything, from the pathetic daycare that warehoused kids, with that loudmouthed broad who’d done her best to embarrass her, to the fact that she didn’t want him to drive her home. It wasn’t until he pulled up in front of that rundown home that he’d understood why. Hell, he wouldn’t want anyone to know he lived in a dump like that either. A chain-link fence was rusted and falling down in parts, and an overgrown yard looked as if it had never been kept up. A rotted-out sofa sat on the front porch, torn, with the stuffing pulled out.

The scene didn’t fit his image of Laura, not that he knew what that was. But then, for a single mother, it had to have been difficult for her to keep up anything. Why wouldn’t she live in some apartment? After all, wouldn’t that have been easier?

When he parked, she had jumped out quickly, moving the seat forward and lifting her son in her arms before Andy could get around to her side and help her. The boy hadn’t talked. He was old enough that Andy wondered why he didn’t. He had also whined the entire drive home as if terrified of Andy, and he wouldn’t even look Andy’s way. Andy wondered if he may have started screaming if he had. Andy didn’t know exactly how old Gabriel was, but he didn’t miss Laura’s worried glances, her flushed face, her acute nervousness. He could even see the beads of sweat dotting her forehead, and he knew she was far from warm. She kept saying over and over, “It’s okay. We’re almost home. Don’t worry, honey.”

When Andy came around the truck, she’d shut her door and thanked him for the ride before saying quite sharply, “I’ll pay you back for the daycare.” Then she’d hurried up the crumbling concrete steps as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. As Andy climbed behind the wheel, he noticed the way she glanced at the bottom of the front steps and then bit her lower lip, lifting her son. He looked way too heavy for her to be carrying him around, but she scurried around the side of the house as if she didn’t want anyone to see her. Andy had sat there for a minute, rubbing his jaw and staring at the dilapidated house, wondering about this big-eyed young lady and what her story was.

He had no intention of accepting one dime from her. The only reason he had paid that loudmouthed busybody was to get her to shut up. He could tell she was just warming up to take a strip off Laura for something that wasn’t her fault. Who the hell did she think she was? Andy hadn’t missed the way her eyes widened when she saw him with Laura.

He knew the type; Laura’s name was as good as mud in the next fifteen minutes. The woman had carried on about money and Laura owing her. Andy thought that just wasn’t okay. She should have done it in private, where the entire world couldn’t listen in, and that was the only reason he had yanked open his wallet and tossed her five hundred dollars. Laura hadn’t deserved to lose her job over a stupid Christmas tree.

What the hell was her story, anyway? Andy slapped the steering wheel. A girl alone with a little boy. He had asked her about family, even a boyfriend. No one. How could she have no one? He didn’t miss how pale she’d gotten, and he knew there was more to the story. What he knew was that she was alone with a child who couldn’t talk. What he didn’t know and planned to find out was where she had come from. Jules would know. Come to think of it, he had no idea how long Laura had worked at the estate.

It didn’t take Andy long to track down Jules in the kitchen with the cook, tasting what looked like some kind of sauce the old cook was stirring on the stove. Both women stared at him when he walked in with an odd look that had Andy glancing behind him to see if there was a problem.

“Jules, I need to speak with you.” He knew he sounded irritated.

Jules set the spoon on the smooth green counter. The cook was an older, short, plump woman who was still staring at him, holding the wooden spoon in her wrinkled hand. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever spoken to her. He blinked as he tried to think of her name, but nothing would come to him.

“Certainly, Mr. Friessen. Would you like to speak with me in the hallway?” She motioned toward the door and even took a step to leave the kitchen.

“No, here’s fine.” Andy crossed his arms and didn’t miss the way the cook’s wrinkled face tightened. She banged a pot with a spoon, making an awful racket, and then yanked open the fridge, pulling out a large pan with a hunk of beef that was marinating and sat it on the counter with a clatter. Andy frowned, not missing the old woman’s irritation as her sharp gaze narrowed, and he was positive she was shooting sparks his way.

“Jules, about Laura, the maid, what can you tell me about her?”

Jules had run this household of servants since Andy was a child. She was a large older woman, and her double chin wobbled when she spoke. “Well, not much. She’s young. She always came to work, did her job. I’m not sure what it is you’d like to know about her. She’s gone. Your mother fired her.”

A loud clatter had them both staring at the cook. “Pot slipped,” the cook snapped, glaring at Andy with bloodshot eyes that were now shooting shards of ice his way.

Jules’ expression became unusually nervous as she glanced at the ceiling and then back at Andy. “Sir, why don’t we step out of the kitchen and maybe in the library, where you’d be more comfortable.”

“I want to know who hired Laura, how long she’s been working here, where she came from.” He didn’t move but watched the cook this time as he spoke, and she glared right back at him with something that resembled pure venom. For the first time ever, Andy considered taking a step back.

Jules cleared her throat roughly. “Sir, I hired her. She’s been here since the spring.…”

The old cook snorted, interrupting Jules.

“Aida, enough. Stir your sauce!” Jules shouted at the cook, shoving her hands on her plump hips.

Andy took a step closer to the cook and stopped when she appeared to squeeze the wooden spoon handle in a way that made him think it’d snap in two. The woman had balls, he had to give her that. The way she didn’t back down, firming her trembling lips to a fine white line, he was positive that if he stepped any closer, she’d raise her hand and cosh him over the head.

“Aida, is it?” Andy didn’t wait for her to respond. “Is there something you want to say?”

“No, sir, she has nothing to say. She has a dinner to prepare, so please, sir, if we could step out…” Jules tried to step in and even extended her hand again toward the door, but Andy cut her off before she could finish.

“No, I want to hear what Aida here has to say.”

“You’re a pig!” She spat the words at him.

“Oh, Aida!” Jules groaned behind him. “Sir, she didn’t mean a word. Please don’t fire her. Your mother has five dinner guests arriving this evening, and there is no one to cook dinner if you fire her. Now, Aida, get back to the stove and mind your tongue.” Jules clapped her hands.

But Andy was still staring at the tiny old woman, who stared at him as if he were the devil himself, with not a lick of fear anywhere in her. What a tough old broad she was. “Jules, would you shut up? Now, Aida, you’re obviously upset with something I’ve done, so I would like to hear it.” Andy glanced sharply at Jules just as she opened her mouth. He was positive she would make another attempt to get him to leave, but he had no intention of walking out that door or anywhere until he heard what this unusual spunky woman had to say. “Jules, I want to hear this. Obviously, there is a problem.”

The cook stepped closer to Andy and held up the wooden spoon in front of her face. “You, sir, stay away from that girl. She doesn’t need the likes of you making things any more difficult for her. And she’s a good girl, she is. She caused no trouble, worked hard, was never late. She asks nothing of no one. She didn’t deserve to get fired, and I told Jules just that after I got here and heard what you did. If it wasn’t for you and your temper, carrying on like you were, the tree would still be standing now.” She waved the spatula in front of his face. “And she will not be your plaything! You stay away from her and her child.”

Andy stared at this short old lady, whose face was deeply etched with lines. She didn’t cower, look away, or apologize; she stood right in front of him, daring him to step closer, to say something stupid. Frankly, he admired this old woman’s gumption, standing up to him, not tiptoeing around him as everyone did.

“I am not interested in making her my plaything.…”

The old woman shrieked and cut him off. “Bullshit! Don’t think I haven’t seen both you and your dad eyeing up that poor girl every time she bent over, knelt down, as if you were imagining all kinds of lewd things to do to her, and with your dad’s reputation with bedding women, and yours not much better. Stay away from her.”

For the first time in his life, he was speechless. He’d never been spoken to quite like this, and never by an employee. He opened his mouth to say something, but she started shouting again.

“I brought the girl here. She has more hard-working gumption in her little finger than you, and she struggles to give that little boy everything. How is she supposed to feed her child and keep a roof over her head now?” The cook tossed the wooden spoon on the counter, where it clanged against the pot, and untied her apron before yanking off her hairnet and tossing it onto the roast on the counter. She slung her apron over her head and tossed it to Andy, who caught it and looked at it, wondering what the hell had just happened.

“Aida, where are you going?” Jules asked as the cook brushed past her, yanking open a cupboard door and pulling out her purse and coat.

“I quit,” Aida snapped.

“Mr. Friessen, stop her. Your mother has guests arriving in two hours, and I’ll not be the one telling her the cook quit!” Jules was wringing her hands frantically.

“Aida, wait.” Andy handed Jules the white apron and followed the cook out the back door. She strode with her head high around the puddles that had turned everything to mud toward the stables, where the staff parked their cars out of sight. She ignored Andy, but should that really have surprised him? No one had ever ignored him, and Aida marched on faster, as if she was saying, “Good riddance!” Andy had to step it up to catch up to her, as her speed surprised him.

Finally, he jogged up beside her. “Aida, please…”

“You ever stop to think of the repercussions before you do something, Andy Friessen? Your father doesn’t.” Aida didn’t seem to care who heard her as she raked him over the coals.

Several of the hired hands lingering outside turned their heads as Aida’s loud voice carried. He couldn’t believe the woman had the gall to talk down to him like this.

“Aida, please stop. You’re right.” For some reason Andy couldn’t explain, he didn’t want this old woman to hate him, and when she stared at him with bloodshot brown eyes, hatred was exactly what he saw. “Don’t quit. The reason I came back to talk to Jules about Laura is because I picked her up on the side of the road while she was walking, and I drove her and her son home to some piece-of-crap house.” Andy gestured with his hands and then dropped them, letting out a heavy sigh. My God, he’d never had to work so hard with someone in his life, with someone who worked for him. Humility was a bitter pill to swallow, and this old woman whose head barely reached the top of his chest had taken all of it and slapped it in his face. “She didn’t deserve to get fired, and I told my mother that.”

Aida finally stopped walking and faced Andy, clutching her purse and coat to her chest as if someone would yank them away. She stared up at Andy, and he looked down on her, someone he could take out in a minute, which was why he couldn’t figure out how she put the fear of God into him.

“Laura should have her job back. Get it for her, and I’ll come back.” She said it so quietly, but the effect hit much like a wrecking ball taking out an old concrete building.

Andy shook his head. “No.” He let out a sharp breath. “I’ll find her another job, somewhere else. She shouldn’t work for my mother. She’s not a nice woman.”

Aida straightened a little and glared at him. “And where would she find this other job? On her back?”

“No. I’ll find her a decent job in town. I don’t know where yet, but I will, I promise. Just please stay.”

“And you’ll stay away from her?” Aida asked.

“I am not my father, and I already told you I wouldn’t mistreat Laura. She didn’t deserve what happened this morning.” Andy knew he hadn’t answered her question, and by the way she watched him and then ran her sharp gaze down his chest and back up to his face, he knew she was deciding.

“Fine. By the end of the day, you have a job for her.” The cook stalked back toward the house. “And don’t think I don’t know you didn’t agree to stay away from Laura. But heed me: If I hear you’re trying to play with that girl, I will call you out.” She didn’t look back as she spoke.

“Aida,” Andy said. She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

She grunted and stomped back into the house, slamming the door behind her.