Page 11 of Malicious Marriage
DEAN
“You don’t have a chef to do all of this?”
The paper bags filled with ingredients dropped off by Bobby sit on the center counter in Clover’s kitchen. The label across some of the food items Clover unpacks is from a small store. I'm sure Jack and I drove past it on the way here, but Bobby had insisted this was a delivery from their own caterer. I’m not sure I’d be happy paying a caterer who just orders from the local store. At that point, it’s easier just to cut out the middleman.
“Not today,” Clover replies with a smile. “It’s her day off.”
“And the rest of your staff?”
Clover gave me a very brief tour of the home and patio while waiting for Bobby to sort out the issues with catering, and while this manor is truly a lovely home, it’s hard to ignore some very glaring absences. Clover and Bobby seem to be the only two people on the property and for a manor this large, there should at least be a team of twenty keeping an eye on the place. It would be rude of me to point that out since there’s a chance Clover’s security just takes a backseat approach and are watching quietlyfrom places unknown. It’s just… unusual. For a woman so full of smiles and life, this home feels empty.
No staff, no chef, not even a housekeeper bustling about. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think no one had lived here in months.
I keep these thoughts to myself. It’s reasonable to assume that Clover is simply very busy and doesn’t spend much time here. Which would also explain the door we passed in the hallway that has come away from the hinges. In my house, a repair like that would happen long before the hinges even warped, never mind reaching the full detached state I glimpsed on my way past. Again, something I will refrain from mentioning. No good can come out of pointing out unimportant flaws when I’m a guest.
“Oh.” Clover shakes her head and puffs out her cheeks slightly as she stares at the array of ingredients in front of her. “Everyone has the day off. I think it’s good for morale. Plus, if I’m out enjoying the sun, then it’s only fair they do as well.”
“Understandable. That’s very kind.”
Clover waves one hand at me. “Hardly.”
“You don’t see it that way?”
She pauses with her hands on two ripe eggplants and grimaces slightly. “I don’t think treating people to a day off, something everyone is entitled to, should be celebrated. That’s all. It’s a normal thing to do and should be done much more often!”
Who am I to argue with that?
“Is there anything I can do to help?” It’s not in my nature to sit by and let someone else do all of the work, but as soon as I approach, Clover points at me with one of the eggplants.
“Don’t you dare. You’re my guest and I’m making lunch, so you just sit down and enjoy it.” Seconds after she speaks, a flushof pink creeps across her cheeks. “Which I mean in a completely respectful way, of course.”
I can’t keep a straight face and chuckle softly while sliding onto a bar stool resting up against the island counter. “I take no offense, Clover. It’s your house. Your rules.”
“Exactly!” She puffs her cheeks slightly and blows air upward, sending a few strands of her caramel brown hair drifting away from her hairline. “Are you allergic to anything?”
“Cinnamon.”
“Damn, my entire recipe is ruined,” she declares with a cheeky smile. “Back to the drawing board!”
The warmth that exudes from Clover is extraordinary. She talks like we’ve known each other for years while still having hints of nervousness. It’s like her urge to make me feel at ease overwrites her anxiousness at befriending a stranger, and that creates such an alluring concoction of warmth. It helps that she’s standing in front of me chopping up an array of vegetables to make me lunch.
I’m weak for acts of service.
“How long have you known Bobby?” I might not be permitted to help her cook, but I can definitely get to know her.
“Oh, wow…” She pauses with a knife in hand and pops a carefully sliced cube of red pepper into her mouth. “Years. More years than I can remember and way more than I deserve.”
“He strikes me as more of a friend than a bodyguard.”
She nods slowly, resuming her chopping. “He’s a few years older than me and he came to work with us as just a driver at first. He was always very good, and my father took such a liking to him that he got him all the security training he would ever need just so that he could drive me around. Something I take credit for because not long after he started that training, his parents kicked him out, so I set him up in the pool house andkept it a secret until the better paychecks came through and he was able to afford his own place.”
“You had to keep it a secret?”
Clover nods, adding an array of colorful chopped veg to a bowl and moving on to strips of chicken. “If my father learned he was homeless, he would have viewed Bobby as irresponsible and never continued his training. But I liked Bobby and he was an excellent driver, so I was happy to help. When he got his first apartment, I helped him change his address in the records and he was golden.”
“You must really like him.” My gut pulls south at the thought. To do something like that speaks to Clover’s kindness, but she talks about him with such affection. Have I grown interested in a woman who’s already spoken for?
“I love him,” Clover replies with soft laughter. “He’s my best friend, although I often have to fight his husband for his attention. God forbid he doesn’t value his employer over his relationship, right?”