Page 13 of The Housekeeper

“Preoccupied?”

“I guess. Thinking about your sister taking my course threw me for a bit of a loop.”

“Relax. She probably won’t follow through.”

“I’ll call the registrar tomorrow. Hopefully my class is already full.”

I nodded, swinging my legs out of bed and kicking off my high heels before snuggling back in beside him. Harrison had been teaching a creative writing course at the University of Toronto for the past four years, part of its continuing education summer program for adults. Among the seven-week courses being offered were classes in writing poetry, screenplays, memoirs, nonfiction, and novels, both literary and popular. The total number of students permitted in each class was twelve, and the program was extremely popular, so there was a good chance it was too late for Tracy to enroll. I certainly hoped so, or this “preoccupation” could last all summer.

“At least the housekeeper situation is taken care of,” Harrison offered.

“Yes,” I agreed. “She’s starting Monday.”

“That’s great. Now you can stop running over there every two seconds and spend more time at home…”

“I spend lots of time at home.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Whatareyou saying?”

“Just that you do too much, and that now that the housekeeper situation has been resolved, you can relax a bit,” he concluded, giving me a quick peck on the tip of my nose before flipping onto his right side.

I lay there, still in my red teddy, staring at his bare back, listening to the soft sound of his breathing as he drifted off to sleep, the touch of his lips lingering on my skin.

—

We no sooner arrived in my parents’ backyard than my cellphone rang. I glanced toward my sister, sunning herself in her bright orange bikini on a chaise longue beside the pool, knowing she would have ignored it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t built that way.

“It’s Linda Francis,” the voice said as soon as I answered. “I hope this isn’t going to prove too much of an inconvenience, but I was hoping we could change our appointment from tomorrow to today.”

“Today?” I repeated as my children raced toward the pool.

“As soon as possible, actually. We’ve just been invited to a friend’s cottage for a few days, and my husband wants to leave this afternoon.”

My sister glared her displeasure as Sam jumped into the deep end of the pool, sending a torrent of water toward her. “For God’s sake, Sam,” she cried out. “Watch it!”

“Watch what?” he asked.

“Mommy,” Daphne urged. “Come swim with me.”

“Can I call you right back, Mrs. Francis?” I asked. “Let me see what I can do.”

“See what you can do about what?” Tracy asked, eyes narrowing.

“It’s this new client,” I told her, explaining the situation.

“Don’t look at me,” Tracy said, anticipating my next request.

“I wouldn’t be more than an hour, tops.”

“No way,” Tracy said. “This is my afternoon to relax.”

As opposed to any other afternoon?I thought, but didn’t say. There was no point arguing. I wasn’t about to beg and I was out of options. My father had his hands full with my mother, and Harrison wouldn’t appreciate his plans being disrupted. I’d have to call Linda Francis back, tell her I couldn’t make it.

I heard the sound of a sliding door and turned to see Elyse Woodley walking up the garden steps to the pool, carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade, a plate of cookies, and a stack of plastic glasses. She was wearing white shorts, a sleeveless blue T-shirt, and a big smile.

I’m dreaming,I thought.