Adam told me Victoria always wakes up early, so I set an alarm to get me up at seven. If I were back in my crappy neighborhood in Brooklyn, there would be some siren or explosion on the street that would get me up before any alarm, but it’s absolutely silent out here. I have the best sleep of my life on this super comfortable mattress. I feel like I’m living in the lap of luxury.
I take a quick shower and then dress in simple jeans and a T-shirt. I tie my hair back in a ponytail and head over to Victoria’s bedroom. I stop short when I see Eva inside the room, loading Victoria into some sort of sling. Victoria looks about as thrilled as I would be in the same situation.
“You come back later,” Eva barks at me. “I get Victoria out of bed, then you come back.”
“Oh, okay.” I tug at my jeans. “Should I… feed her breakfast?”
Eva turns away from the sling to shoot me a look. “That is what Mr.
Adam pays you for, yes?” Yes.
I want to ask her what sort of food I should make, but I don’t feel like being yelled at again. Eva hates me. I don’t understand why because I’m not that detestable, but it’s clear she does. I’m going to have to find a strategy to stay out of her way. But in the meantime, I’ll go downstairs and make Victoria some breakfast.
When I get to the first floor of the house, Maggie is down there with her red curls pulled back, vacuuming the carpet with earbuds stuffed in her ears. Before she sees me, I hear her belt out, “Girls just wanna have fu-un!” When she sees me, she pauses her solo and pulls the earbuds out, although she doesn’t look as embarrassed as I would feel if caught in a similar situation. She offers me another of her infectious, toothy grins.
“Sylvie! Hi!”
I can’t help but return it. “Cyndi Lauper fan?”
“Who isn’t?” She kills the motor on the vacuum. “So what brings you down here?”
“Um…” I glance over at the kitchen. “I was going to make some breakfast for Victoria, but…”
Maggie gets it immediately. “Oatmeal. That’s the best thing for her to eat for breakfast. I’ll show you where they keep it.”
“Thanks.” My shoulders sag in relief. At least one person here is willing to help me. “I was going to ask Eva, but she’s…”
She winks at me. “Terrifying?”
“Yes! Oh my God, I’m so scared of her. What’s her deal?”
“I have no idea.” She shrugs. “If I’m going to be charitable, I think she’s just being overly protective of Victoria. Worst case: she’s going to eventually murder us all with a kitchen knife.”
She laughs like she’s joking, but there’s a part of me that’s worried Eva really might murder us all at some point. She looks like the kind of person who feels the need to exact some sort of vigilante justice. And I’m fairly sure she’ll murder me first.
In one of the cupboards, there are packs of instant oatmeal in every flavor you could imagine. It makes me think that oatmeal is a frequent breakfast for Victoria. I pick out a pack of apple sugar and grab a bowl to cook it in the microwave.
“Will this be enough food for her?” I ask Maggie.
She opens up the cupboard with all the baby food and pulls out a container of puréed apples. “You can serve it to her with this.”
I hesitate before taking the jar. I don’t want to feed Victoria baby food.
It doesn’t seem right.
“It’s the right consistency,” Maggie says. “And it doesn’t taste bad.
I’ve had it.”
“You have?”
“Sure. It’s like bland applesauce. What’s not to like?”
The microwave dings and I remove the bowl of oatmeal. I stir it before putting it back in for another minute. It smells good at least, but the consistency is gummy. I’m not certain how it’s going to taste, but it’s not like Victoria eats much anyway. She only ate about a quarter of her dinner last night after I so lovingly puréed those potatoes.
The front door slams, and a second later, Adam jogs into the kitchen, wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and running shoes. He’s got a vee of sweat on his T-shirt, and he pulls his earbuds out from his ears as he waves hello to us. His shirt is slightly stuck to his muscular chest—holy crap, he looks hot. I certainly get what Victoria saw in him that day in the ER.
“Everything going okay, Sylvia?” He leans over the counter, his green eyes focused on my face. “Do you have any questions?”
“Maggie was just helping me.” I flash her a grateful smile. She has an amused expression on her face. “I’m making some oatmeal for Victoria.”
“Excellent.” He gives me a thumbs up. “Strong work, Sylvia. Maggie.” He backs away from the counter. “I’m going to hit the shower—I’m really sweaty. I’ll be up in the attic working if you need anything.”
I forget about the oatmeal for a moment as I watch Adam climb the stairs. Not only does he have a nice chest, but it looks like he also has a pretty nice butt. I should probably stop staring at it though before Maggie notices.
“My boss is ever so dreamy.”
I snap my head around to look at Maggie, who still has an amused expression on her face. She’s got her freckled arms folded across her chest. “What?” I say.
She laughs. “He’s hot. I get it. I may have a boyfriend but I’m not blind.”
I play with a lock of my hair. “He’s okay.” “Suuuuure…”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “He’s hot. Obviously he’s hot. But…” My eyes drift up the stairwell. “It’s not like I’m going to do anything about it. He’s married. And I’m…” Celibate, apparently. “I work for him. I work for his wife, actually.” I avoid her eyes. “And even if I was going to do something about it, he wouldn’t be interested. He’s completely devoted to his wife.”
“Well, that’s true.” She pulls out a large garbage bag from the pantry closet and shakes it open. “But… I mean, he’s a young guy. He’s got to be pretty lonely. He’s a good guy and he’s got good intentions, but this can’t go on indefinitely. Eventually, he’s going to move on.”
“Well.” I pull the oatmeal out of the microwave. It doesn’t look appetizing. “It’s not going to be with me.”
Maggie grins. “Well, it’s nice that you’ve got good intentions too.”
She gives me a wink, then stuffs her earbuds back in her ears. A few moments later, she is replacing the garbage and singing Cyndi Lauper again. I grab the oatmeal and the container of apple sauce and go upstairs to Victoria’s bedroom.
Eva is leaving the room just as I arrive. She glares down at the offerings in my hands and gives me a look of disgust. I suppose instant microwave oatmeal and a jar of apple baby food isn’t all that impressive. Maybe I can make her something better in the future. I wonder if I could cook some eggs and chop it up? Or throw it in the food processor. My goal is to get Victoria to eat an entire meal instead of three bites like last night.
But when I see Victoria, I have a feeling any effort I make will be a lost cause.
She looks really out of it. Much more so than at dinner last night. Her head is lolling against the headrest of her chair, and there’s drool dripping out of her mouth. When I say her name loudly, she briefly opens her eyes, then shuts them again.
“VICTORIA!” I am nearly shouting now. “It’s me. It’s Sylvie.
SYLVIE!”
Her eyes have a glazed look that’s a stark contrast from the vivid blue in the photographs of her peppered all over the house. She’s only able to get them open about two millimeters, then she closes them again. There’s no chance of getting her to hold the spoon. I’m glad I didn’t spend a lot of time making a fancy breakfast, because I’ll be lucky if I can get her to take one bite.
I make an effort though. I scoop up the oatmeal and hold it to her lips. “Come on,” I plead with her. “Just one bite. One little bite.”
Her lips finally part about half an inch. Before they can close again, I shove the spoonful of oatmeal between her lips. She makes no effort to chew or swallow. Most of it comes right back out and I need to wipe it off with a napkin.
Goddamn it.
“It’s always difficult in the morning.”
I lift my eyes and see Adam standing in the doorway to the room. He’s showered and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. He looks great, as usual. If I spend much more time with him, I’m going to have to start taking cold showers.
“I can’t seem to wake her up enough to eat,” I mumble.
He runs a hand through his damp hair. “That’s typical. She’s always really groggy when she first gets up. It takes at least until lunch for her to be able to keep her eyes open. Usually, after breakfast, I let her take a nap.”
“Oh.” I look over at Victoria, whose head is now sagging to the left in the headrest. “She does look like she could use a nap.”
In fact, she looks like she’s already started on that nap.
Adam shows me how to tilt the seat of the wheelchair all the way back so that Victoria is in a reclined position. I hear air whistling between her lips—she’s fast asleep.
“Feel free to do whatever you need to do for the next couple of hours,” he says. “She’ll probably wake up around lunchtime.” He nods at the window. “Why don’t you go for a run? The weather is perfect for it.”
I don’t own a decent pair of sneakers, but I don’t want to admit that to Adam. Instead, I just smile. “Maybe.”
I have no interest in going for a run. But at least I’ve got some time now to read more of Victoria’s diary.
