I arrived at the Maxwell mansion at six the next morning and got straight to work. I handled everything that needed to be handled, and around nine that morning Lola came downstairs.
She was dressed up, which meant she probably had to meet someone for work or had a breakfast date with a friend. I was standing at the counter, sipping some caramel tea as her silver heels clicked on the marble floors and she entered the kitchen with a bold smile.
“Good morning, Lola,” I greeted her in a soft voice.
“Morning, Georgia.” Her voice was harmonious.
“Breakfast is ready for you by the pool.”
“Oh, I meant to tell you to cancel that. I have to run.” She put on a mischievous smile. “I have something to tell you, but I didn’t want to say anything until it was confirmed with a test.”
“A test?” I asked, confused.
“Yes!” She walked closer to me. “I’m pregnant, G! I took a test last week!”
“Oh my goodness! That’s amazing, Lola! I’m so happy for you!” And really, I was. I knew how hard she had been trying to get pregnant. She’d mentioned to me only weeks before that she and Corey were going to be trying to start a family.
“Thank you! Dr. Gilbert squeezed me in today. I told her I couldn’t wait to be seen. Only problem is, her clinic is in St. Petersburg, so I have a little drive ahead of me, but it’s for the best gynecologist in Florida, so it’s fine. I haven’t told Corey yet, though. I want to make sure everything is okay first before I give him the news, so don’t mention it to him if you see him.”
“Of course not. My lips are sealed.” I pretended to zip my lips.
Lola smiled and turned, and when she left the kitchen, I huffed. I couldn’t ask her about not being in the mansion right now. She was pregnant, and the last thing I wanted to do was pull away in her time of need.
Dion wasn’t too happy about it. I mean, of course he wasn’t. He didn’t give a damn that Lola was pregnant or starting a family. He just wanted me with him so we could discuss starting our own. For the time being we compromised. I’d leave the mansion at eight every night to be with him, and that was okay for a while.
It became a little trickier now that Lola had fallen pregnant, though. She was moody and tired, always complaining about something I had no control over. But this was my job. I had to make it right.
I worked tirelessly to make the house comfortable for her. Prior to being pregnant, Lola loved seeing fresh flowers in the kitchen, particularly lilies. Now, she swore she hated the smell of them. The chefs couldn’t cook certain foods because they made her want to vomit. She was also very sick every morning, and I could sense tension between her and Corey that wasn’t there before.
Something told me Corey didn’t want Lola to be pregnant, that he wasn’t ready to start a family. The way he looked at her sometimes made it obvious, like he was horrified by the idea of it. He also started asking for his favorite scotch more than usual.
I kept out of their business, though. The Maxwells argued often. Most times they argued after attending certain events or parties together. Lola would come home in a rage, slamming doors and accusing Corey of flirting with someone at a party, and he would turn right around and point out that she was flirting too.
I was glad Dion and I didn’t have to worry about petty things like that. I realized being rich could bring too many problems to a marriage while living with the Maxwells. You weren’t ever really 100 percent happy, even with all that money.
I always found it shocking the way people could buy into Lola and Corey’s happiness. I’d witnessed firsthand how much they yelled at each other, slammed doors, broke glasses, and even slapped each other around, but, as I said, it was none of my business.
I was under a certain confidentiality too. Being her household manager meant keeping my mouth shut. But even if I hadn’t been, Lola was my boss and my friend and I wouldn’t have had any right telling anyone. I didn’t even tell Dion about Lola and Corey’s marital problems. I felt she trusted me to keep quiet and keep it private; that was my obligation.
Crazy thing is, though, that Lola began to change with the pregnancy. She wasn’t as nice anymore, or caring of anyone else’s feelings but her own. I tried to chalk that up to her hormones, and how fatigued and sick she’d become, but after the night of April 13, 2007 . . . it was no longer about the pregnancy.