Beach Thriller(55)
“Until I know what happened to my sister on the night she died, that story is dead, too.”
Jade’s eyes caught fire. “I think I can help with that.”
Beach Thriller
iv
When you unpack it, Cinderella sends a terrible message. It reinforces the “pretty equals worthy” trope. The beautiful, kind, but passive woman gets the prince, while the objectively less attractive stepsisters deserve nothing. Granted, they’re cruel and horrid—but the point still stands. And what’s Cinderella doing about her plight? Nada, that’s what.
She remains stuck in a toxic environment, taking no steps to improve her lot in life. Yet suddenly she’s deserving of a kingdom, all because of a biological quirk that gave her tiny feet? Come on. Talk about conveying the notion that luck and looks matter more than effort and skill.
But don’t tell that to Anna. She’s essentially living the role. She’s dressed for the part, too, wearing what amounts to rags compared to the designer clothes her employers flaunt around the house. They’re like walking advertisements for top brands: Couture, Abercrombie, Hilfiger, Lauren, and more.
But look on the bright side, Anna—nothing lasts forever. At least the daily humiliation was funding grad school. And she had already learned a valuable lesson: imagining how the other half lives was much more fun than having it shoved in her face every day.
Today was no exception.
Maeve had gone for a swim while Anna cleared the greasy breakfast dishes from the long mahogany table. She polished the counters until they shined. Conrad and Baxter Ward were holed up in the study, discussing real estate. From what she overheard, Conrad was getting an education on how business was and wasn’t done at Ward Pharmaceuticals. He would soon be family, and Baxter was taking Conrad under his wing.
Anna had nearly finished cleaning the kitchen. It looked spotless, like breakfast had never happened. What a pity she was actually skilled at this job. She understood all too well why Conrad had kept the job description vague. Now here she was, down on her hands and knees, scrubbing floors, killing brain cells from the chemical fumes. And she knew why: to be closer to Conrad.
Who is going to be married, screamed a voice in her head. But the heart and mind were often at odds.
When all her tasks were finally finished, Anna went outside for a quick break. She sat in the garden, admiring the ocean view. She told herself, You don’t need money to enjoy this. The sun sparkling on the ocean always captivated her. Her grandfather likened the view to a million diamonds spread across the water—absolutely priceless. She missed him terribly. He’d been gone several years, but it felt like yesterday. He was the only father she remembered; her own had died the summer she turned three, and her mother had been too grief-stricken to remarry.
“Penny for your thoughts,” said a voice behind her. Anna jumped. “Get it—a penny? Like how we met?”
Anna laughed uneasily. “Oh—hi, Conrad,” she said, flustered. “You, uh, caught me daydreaming.”
“Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you might want this.” He offered her one of the two glasses of lemonade he was holding. He’d even thought to garnish it with a sprig of mint.
“Thank you,” she said, mildly abashed. “Is it okay that I’m taking a break?”
She sipped the sweet, refreshing drink, savoring the taste that embodied summer.
“Of course.” His warm voice coated her like a soothing balm. “My mom might gripe, but that’s just how she is. You’ve already lasted longer than most of the help.”
The words stung—the help. Oh shit. In your place, Anna—back in your place.
Conrad seemed to realize his mistake. He looked sorry, which softened the impact. He cleared his throat and took a sip of lemonade. She tried to ignore the tangle of hair falling in front of his eyes and those sensuous lips.
“What I’m trying to say is it’s like Grand Central Station with the staff. People come and go before I even get a chance to know them. But the pay is good, and hopefully … you’ll stick around.”
Anna read between the lines: Stick around … for me. Tentatively, he reached for her hand, and a jolt ran through her. His smile was charming—but nervous? Was there a vulnerable side to this handsome man?
“Let’s take a walk … get away from the house so Mother doesn’t see you relaxing, God forbid.”
They left their glasses on a small garden stand. Anna made a mental note to collect them before Maeve noticed.
They walked in silence until Anna broke the spell.
“How’s the real estate business treating you?” she asked, fumbling for words, her heart pounding.
He looked at her keenly, and she worried he was upset that she’d overheard his conversation in the study. But he smiled.
“I dream in square footage,” he joked. He took a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and showed Anna a remarkable hand-drawn picture of a brick building, with the dimensions marked neatly on the sides.
“You drew this?” she asked in amazement.
Conrad nodded. “Art was my first love—drawing, especially—but a career as an illustrator isn’t fitting for a Carmichael.”
“You’re still young—there’s always time to change course.”
Conrad laughed off the notion. “You don’t know my family. Elizabeth just graduated from law school. She did her internship with her father’s company and now she’s working there full-time. They offered me a position as well, and everyone expects me to take it.”