Page 6 of The Homemaker (The Chain of Lakes #1)

Chapter Six

Murphy

It doesn’t have to make sense now.

It will … eventually.

“Seriously. What if she’s dying, and she’s decided to find her replacement now?” Blair asks, as we stretch on our side of the pickleball net while we wait for her parents to join us. “Murphy, are you listening to me?”

“Uh-huh,” I mumble. My focus is shit. It’s taken me years to move past the best and worst two weeks of my life.

And now, Alice is here, and she doesn’t remember me. Maybe that’s good, but my heart feels every scar she left behind.

“And what’s with the housedress and apron? Hair in the perfect ponytail? Heels? Murphy, that woman wears heels to do housework. It’s weird, like she’s doing it to impress my father. I know my parents can be a little eccentric, but a homemaker ? He needs therapy. Right? Murphy?”

“Huh?” I muster a convincing smile.

Blair frowns. “What is going on with you? You’ve been off today. Everyone is acting strange except me. Is there something in the water?” Blair steps in front of me, demanding my attention as I focus on the guesthouse.

“I don’t think your mom is sick,” I mumble, refocusing on the woman I’m going to marry instead of the woman who derailed my life and made me question said life’s purpose.

“Ready to have your clocks cleaned by people twice your age?” Hunter asks as he and Vera take the court in matching white shorts and light green polos.

We laugh it off, but then her parents make us chase the plastic ball around the court for two hours, kicking our asses. After the women head inside to get showered for dinner. Hunter fetches two bottles of beer, and we sit by the pool.

“My daughter’s pissed about Alice,” he says.

I take a swig of my beer and shrug. “She thinks Vera is ill, and”— it hurts to say her name, but I do it anyway—“Alice is her replacement in training.”

He barks a laugh. “That would be something. Vera’s not terminally ill.

Blair just doesn’t understand our marriage.

You kids are young, and you only see the first stage of love.

Think of it like hot chocolate with marshmallows.

It looks amazing when it’s fresh and hot.

It’s really sweet. And you just can’t stop licking and sucking on the marshmallows.

Well, that’s the early years of marriage.

Then the marshmallows shrink. They’re not the mouthful they used to be, not as firm, and the chocolate isn’t as hot as it used to be.

But then, you realize all it needs is thirty seconds in the microwave and a handful of new marshmallows, and suddenly you like your hot chocolate again. See what I mean?”

Nope. I have no clue how he came up with that analogy. Is Alice supposed to be a marshmallow? Was Vera once a marshmallow? Is she smaller and not as firm? I’m so damn confused. And I don’t like the images in my head right now.

I squint against the sun. “Does your house manager wear a uniform? Or are her outfits her own choice?” Talking about Alice isn’t easy, but we can’t stay on the marshmallow topic any longer.

Hunter chuckles, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “It was just a suggestion. Vera said Alice seemed excited about it. Besides, a lot of jobs have uniforms. It’s not like I’m asking her to be a bunny in my mansion or wear shirts that show off her hooters.”

This conversation is so far off the rails, it’s making me nauseous.

“What do you know about her?”

“Alice?”

I nod.

“She’s witty, which means she’s probably smart.

But I don’t know a lot about her yet. I’ve tried to drag stuff out of her, but she works the conversation in the direction she wants it to go.

I think she works me .” He grins. “Maybe better than Vera. And I respect that. I like a woman who knows she wields power. Hell, Vera hiring me a homemaker was a queen move. And don’t you dare tell Blair I said that, or I will deny it.

I’m being manipulated. Vera likes her cushy life and can’t be bothered with things like making dinner, ironing, or stroking my ego.

Make no mistake about it; I’m the victim. ”

He finishes his beer as we stare at the pool and listen to the birds and lawnmowers in the distance, the sweet aroma of fresh cut grass mixing with the breeze. “I have a few things to do before I shower. Can I get you another beer before I head inside?”

“I’m good, but thanks,” I say.

After Hunter disappears into the house, I set my half-empty bottle of beer on the table next to my chair and stroll toward the guesthouse between the perfectly trimmed hedges.

When a man exits, I stop and step aside out of view.

Alice follows him to his gray truck on the street.

She’s no longer in “uniform.” Instead, she’s wearing shorts, a tight, white tank top, and flip-flops.

Her ponytail is gone, hair messy and blowing in the breeze. My Alice had shorter, blond hair.

The guy turns his baseball cap backwards and stops at his truck to kiss her, palming her ass as she wraps her arms around him. After he pulls away from the curb, Alice turns, stopping when she sees me, lifting a hand in a polite beauty queen wave before disappearing around the corner.

How can she not remember?