Page 71 of Jane Deyre
“Well, Miss Deyre, you did it all wrong!”
Before I can take my next breath, she grabs one of the knives and hurls it across the room. It hits a wall and then lands with a clank on the hardwood floor. She then proceeds to stomp around the table, grabbing every one of the knives and flinging them in all directions.Clank! Clank! Clank! Clank! Clank!I fear for Adele, but smartly, my little charge ducks under the table while the dragon woman goes on her rampage. She goes full circle and returns to me. Her nostrils flare. She breathes fire into my face.
“The fish knife goes between the dinner knife and the soup spoon,notto the right of it.”
That’s what Grace showed me to do, but I’m not going to get the poor woman in trouble. She probably forgot the correct way. I steal a glance at her. Shaking, she cowers in a corner. I take full responsibility.
“Now, Miss Deyre, please collect the knives and set them properly. And be sure to rinse them off before you do. I’ll be back for my final inspection at five thirty sharp.”
She stomps out of the dining room. Wasting no time, I collect the knives and hand them to Grace. She gives me a grateful smile. I return it. I have her back; she has mine. There’s a special connection between us. Words are not needed.
She points at my watch. I glance down and check the time. In the distance, I hear the grandfather clock chime. My heart skips a beat. Shit. It’s already five. The dinner party starts in an hour and I still have to bathe Adele and get her fed.
As if on cue, Adele leaps up from under the table. Giggling, she badmouths Ms. Fairfax. “Quelle garce!” She’s just called her a bitch in French.
Wondering how she learned that word (her mother?), I can’t help but laugh at my tell-it-like-it-is charge. Collecting a handful of loose rose petals from the basket for her bath, I march her upstairs. A rushed fifteen minutes later, she’s bathed and in her pajamas. I follow her downstairs to the kitchen where Grace gives her dinner. She promises to be a big girl tonight and go to sleep by herself. After a hug, I dash out of Thornhill.
Missing Ms. Fairfax’s final inspection.
CHAPTER 37
Ward
Ever since I learned about Blanche’s visit to LA and the dinner party my godmother is throwing for her, I’ve not been in my right mind. Maybe last week I needed to see Blanche, but now she’s the last person I want to see. A distraction in my life I don’t fucking need. I’ve stayed in my suite. Drunk too much.
Twenty-four hours before the party, my daughter barges in without knocking (idiot me forgot to lock the door) and catches me in the middle of a tantrum that could rival any child’s. Throwing things. Cursing. And kicking walls. When I catch sight of her, she looks terrified. There’s crap all over the floor. Soiled clothes, books, shattered glass, and pages of my manuscript everywhere. It looks like a Category 4 hurricane has swept through the room. Mortification races through me. Shit-faced, I quickly put down the tumbler I was about to hurl and lift her into my arms. Simply telling her that I’ve been in a bad mood. She seems to be okay with this lame excuse, and after rubbing my scruffy face and telling me I need to shave, begs me to visit her snails. Which I do. A brief reprieve from my madness. Watching them munch on some carrots has a calming effect on me.
“What have you been up to?” I ask as she sprays the leaves of the snails’ habitat with some water.
“I’ve been helping Jane with the party. We polished all the silver together. It’s so bright and shiny.”
At the mention of her nanny’s name, my ears perk up. “That’s good, baby girl. Is Jane okay?”
“Papa, she looks tired. And a little sad.”
I feel my muscles clench. Goddamn Alice Fairfax. Working her to the bone. I’m tempted to give that bitch a piece of my mind, but don’t think I can tamp my urge to strangle her. Something my godmother doesn’t need before her party. A dead body. Thornhill is cursed enough.
After spraying the leaves, Adele closes the lid of the terrarium and sets the plastic water bottle down. “Papa, can’t I come to the party?”
I give her a light noogie. “I wish you could. But it’s a grown-up night.” And I certainly don’t want Blanche and my daughter in the same room. Fuck. She doesn’t even know about Adele.
My little girl frowns. “Is it going to be a dress-up party?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Adele brightens. “Ooh! Jane can wear that pretty dress with all the roses.”
No, she can’t, my inner voice shouts. I don’t want to see her in that dress again.Ever. It brings back too many bad memories. My mother’s death. I blink away the bone-chilling memory and quickly replace it with another. One that gets me excited.
I tug at one of my daughter’s braids. “Hey, remember you were a little mad at me for not getting Jane a present?”
My daughter nods.
“Well, I want to buy her a present now.”
“Yay!”
“Want to help me?”