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"Good people can still have enemies." Debbie sets a glass of lemonade in front of me. “They’ve been hiring a lot of extra security lately. Have you noticed?”
I have noticed. “Security wouldn’t protect them from the FBI, though. Do you think there’s other people out there trying to hurt them?” There was a disturbance outside the house seven months or so ago, but I never heard any details about it. The Keans act like it was nothing, although it does seem like they’ve been more careful since then.
Debbie's eyes dart to the kitchen door. "I overheard Mr. Kean on the phone yesterday. He was talking about 'reinforcing our position' and 'showing strength'. That doesn't sound like normal security upgrades to me."
All of a sudden, the estate feels exposed, vulnerable. "Should we be worried?"
"The pay is good, the benefits are better, and now we've got an army of professional soldiers protecting us." Debbie attempts a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I'd say we're safer than ever."
Her words don't settle my unease. I've worked on these grounds since I was old enough to hold a trowel. I know every bed, every bush, every secret corner where wildflowers peek through the manicured lawns. This place is more than just a job. It’s home.
“What if whatever they're protecting us from gets in anyway?"
"Then I guess we'll find out what all those soldiers are really made of." Debbie points to my sandwich. "You should eat. You’ll need your strength if we’re invaded."
I roll my eyes and eat my sandwich as Debbie prattles on about house gossip. Most I don’t pay too much attention to until she says, “I heard Mr. Kean wants Ronan to marry.”
For a moment, I imagine me in a white dress walking down the aisle with Ronan staring at me with loving awe in his eyes.
"Did you see Mr. Kean this morning?” I blurt out. "That navy suit he was wearing–”
"Oh, girl, you've got it bad." Debbie laughs. "You should stop wasting your time. He doesn’t know any of us exist."
I know she’s right. I mean, I’ve known Ronan since I was a child and he’s barely ever noticed me. I’ve had a crush on him forever, even though he’s older than me. Really, it’s only five years’ difference, which was big when I was thirteen, but now that I’m twenty-three and he’s twenty-eight, it doesn’t seem like an age gap at all.
"He smiled at me yesterday when I brought fresh flowers to his office. Maybe he's finally noticing me."
"Trust me," Debbie says. "Ronan Kean doesn't date the help. Remember what happened to Sarah?"
Sarah was a gold digger who ended up fired when she snuck into Ronan’s bed.
"Maybe I'm different. He seemed genuinely interested in the gardens when I mentioned the new rose varieties I’m thinking of adding." There’s a part of me that knows she’s right. He’ll never see me as more than the help. But a girl can dream, right?
A tall stranger enters the kitchen. "Ladies, I hope I'm not interrupting."
Debbie and I both startle at the unexpected intrusion, especially from a man we’ve never seen before.
"Just doing my rounds," he says, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I'm Blaise Tine, new security detail."
“I’m Debbie. I work in the kitchen.” She’s regained her composure and is now taking a long, appreciative look at the man. I don’t blame her. He is handsome.
“Jenna Hart,” I introduce myself. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies me. His expression seems confused, as if he were expecting something else.
"Haven't seen you around before." Debbie’s gaze is still all over the man.
"Just started last week." He winks. "Thought I should get to know everyone. Especially the lovely ladies who keep this place running."
I don’t know why, but I blush. Embarrassed, I go to arrange the flowers in the crystal vase for the foyer.
"Well, aren't you sweet?" Debbie fans herself dramatically. "Most of the guards just grunt and glare at us."
He laughs, and I’m intrigued by his easy, friendly manner. Debbie isn’t wrong. Most of the men who work here are more like cavemen. They’re either ogling us disrespectfully or barking at us.
"Their loss. Besides, who wouldn't want to spend time with such beautiful company?" He’s a charmer too.
“Well, I’d love to stay and… chat.” I can tell that Debbie would like to do more than “chat” with him. “But I’ve got to inventory the pantry.” She leaves us alone in the kitchen.
I can’t explain it, but I feel a little off kilter about being alone with him. I fidget my fingers as I try to figure out my escape. It would be rude to just leave him, wouldn’t it? I wonder when Mrs. Adams will return.