The first thing I notice as I walk in is that this place is pristine. There is nothing a first impression notes that needs to be cleaned. From the gleaming white floors to the non-dusty framed photos and chandeliers. I take in the gold trimmed walls and wood flanked pillars, showcased by burgundy runners and curtains. Everything is rustically beautiful in an opulent way, but nothing screams personal or life. Of course, this is rash judgement having only gone as far as the foyer because my feet refused to move as of now, but my momma used to say that the soul of a person is able to be seen when you first walk into where they dwell. If that is true, then he is closed off and dead.
A couple more deep breaths and I force myself to move from the front trying to remember the instructions. They stated to walk into the kitchen and make sure he has left no specific directives with his chef before heading into the formal dining areas and upstairs. Now the kitchen is my dream place. Did I mention I love to cook? Well, I do. The kitchen is where I am my calmest. My most serene. This kitchen could fit my whole family and three more families inside of it. This is the type of kitchen you should have when you are planning for a family. “Oh. Hello.” a pleasant voice breaks through my kitchen obsession.
“Hi.” I say half waving, half hoping she goes away so I can finish salivating over this space.
“Who might you be?”
“I am Lilah. My mom is Cindy Reyes.”
“Ah yes, Mrs. Cindy. Where is she on this fine morning?” Shoot. Don’t cry, Lilah.
“She is not feeling well right now, so my sisters and I are taking over for a bit until she gets back on her feet.” I don’t know how much I should divulge at this moment, but I figure this is sufficient.
“Well, I hope she gets better. It's nice to meet you, my name is Norah. I am the Governor's chef and house manager.” she continues. I find myself fidgeting under her scrutiny and I suddenly have the urge to run and hide like I used to do when my parents had gatherings when I was younger. “I'm sorry sugar. I don’t mean to stare. I was just thinking how beautiful you are and that I have a son that could be perfect for a sweet little thing like you.” Her smile is infectious. I smile back and feel my face heat up as I look down at the floor.
“Well, thank you. But I left someone…back home in New York.”
“Pity. He let you leave?”
“He is a gentleman and understood I needed to be here for my mama.” Why am I defending him all of a sudden like he did something wrong? He didn’t have a choice, right? I mean sure, maybe I wanted him to put up a bit more of a fight or try to convince me to stay, but that is just silly considering I would have said no. No. He did the right thing. I am being silly right now.
“He was a fool, is what he is.” I can’t take much more of this talking about me.
“Well thank you. The file my mom has says he leaves specific instructions with you?” I need to get the instructions and get moving.
“This is true. However, you are in luck. He only wants the bedroom and conference room cleaned today. First door, top of the stairs to the left.”
“Thank you. It was nice meeting you Norah.”
“You too, sweet pea.”
The first room is the conference room. It takes me no time to wipe down the tables, change the covers on the chairs and vacuum. Before I know it, I am walking into his bedroom and my nose hairs begin to zing. The smell of sandalwood and musk is prominent. This smells like what I imagine a man's room would smell like.
I take a second to look over the room and take in the decor. Like downstairs there is no character, no life in here. No family photos. No portraits. No…anything. Shrugging, I start with his bed and change the sheets. I move to his laundry, putting them in the to be washed basket and down the chute like the instruction direct. I polish his bookcase which by looking at it you can tell it is just for ambiance not functional or something he uses.
An hour later and I am finishing up his end tables when my clumsiness comes out and I knock over his alarm clock and a frame with him with his arm around a beautiful woman. I can’t explain why my heart splinters a bit seeing them together, touching, like they were meant for one another. I am blaming my mishap on being distracted.