Page 57 of The Housekeeper

Chapter Twenty-four

“What’s wrong?” Elyseasked as soon as she opened the door and saw my face.

“Nothing.” I forced a smile.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she said, ushering me inside the house.

“Mommy!” yelled Daphne, running up from downstairs into my arms.

“We had the best time,” Sam said, joining his sister. “We swam and watched movies…”

“…and had popcorn,” Daphne interjected.

“And potato chips.”

“And Elyse made us chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.”

“Wow. Sounds wonderful.”

“What can I get for you?” Elyse asked.

“Oh, no, nothing. Thank you. I ate before I came over.” I pictured Roger and me sitting side by side on the bed, silently eating our French toast. It seemed that nothing, not even an adulterous affair, could put a damper on my appetite. “We really should get out of your hair.”

“Aw,” whined Sam. “Elyse said we could go for a swim this morning.”

“I’m so sorry,” Elyse apologized. “I didn’t realize you’d come for them so early.”

“Please, Mommy. Can’t we go swimming?”

“Do you have appointments?” Sam asked warily, sounding disconcertingly like his father.

“No, no appointments.”

“So, can we go swimming?”

“Sure,” I agreed. “Why not?”

Elyse swiveled toward my children. “Well, then, why don’t you two go downstairs and put on your bathing suits? They should be dry by now. And you,” she said, turning back to me as they scurried off, “why don’t you go join your father out by the pool while I make us a fresh pot of coffee?”

“My mother…?”

“She had a bit of a rough night,” Elyse said. “I just got her settled before you arrived. She’s sleeping now. But you can look in on her, if you’d like.”

I nodded and went upstairs, brushing aside the uncomfortable realization that Elyse had just given me permission to see my own mother.

My mother was indeed asleep, and I sighed with relief that the only thing I smelled was lavender. “Sleep well,” I whispered, laying a gentle hand on her hip, not sure who I was feeling sorrier for in that moment—her or me. I seriously doubted I’d ever have a good night’s sleep again.

My father put down his SundayNew York Timesas I stepped outside and walked toward him. His eyes narrowed as they looked me up and down, as if searching for any wayward pounds I might have added to my frame since Friday. Or maybe he was doing no such thing. Perhaps that was just my guilt assigning him nefarious motives that didn’t exist.

“Hi, Daddy,” I said in greeting.

“No clients today?” he asked in return.

“No. Harrison is out of town and I can’t keep imposing on Elyse to look after the kids.”

“Probably a good idea,” he said brusquely. “You hired her to look after your mother, not your children.” He returned to his paper before I could even begin to formulate a response.

“Mommy!” Daphne cried, freshly changed into her pink-flowered bathing suit, running toward me and grabbing me around the knees. “Are you going to come swim with us?”