“Hi, Cecelia!” I say cheerfully. “I’m Millie. I’m going to be working around your house from now on—cleaning things up and watching you when your mom asks me to. I hope we can have fun together.”
Cecelia blinks her pale eyes at me. “I’m hungry.”
I have to remember that she is just a normal little girl who gets hungry and thirsty and cranky and uses the bathroom. “What would you like to eat?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, what sorts of things do you like?”
“I don’t know.”
I grit my teeth. Cecelia has morphed from a creepy little girl to an annoying little girl. But we just met each other. I’m sure after a few weeks, we’ll be best friends. “Okay, I’ll just fix you a snack then.”
She nods and climbs up on one of the stools set up around the kitchen island. Her eyes still feel like they’re boring through me—like they can read all my secrets. I wish she would go in the living room and watch cartoons on her giant TV instead of just… watching me.
“So what do you like to watch on television?” I ask, hoping she’ll take the hint.
She frowns like I offended her. “I prefer to read.”
“That’s great! What do you like to read?”
“Books.”
“What kind of books?”
“The kind with words.”
Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, Cecelia. Fine, if she doesn’t want to talk about books, I can change the subject. “Did you just come back from school?” I ask her.
She blinks at me. “Where else would I have come from?”
“But… how did you get home then?”
Cecelia lets out an exasperated huff. “Lucy’s mom picked me up from ballet and brought me home.”
I heard Nina upstairs about fifteen minutes ago, so I assume she’s in the house. I wonder if I should let her know that Cecelia is home. Then again, I don’t want to disturb her, and one of my jobs is to look after Cecelia.
Thank God, Cecelia seems to have lost interest in me and is now rifling around in her pale pink backpack. I find some Ritz crackers in the pantry as well as a jar of peanut butter. I spread the peanut butter over the crackers like my mother used to do. Repeating the same act that my mother used to do for me so many times makes me feel a little nostalgic. And sad. I never thought she would abandon me the way she did. This is it, Millie. The last straw.
After I’ve spread peanut butter on the crackers, I slice up a banana and put one slice on each. I love the combination of peanut butter and bananas.
“Ta-da!” I slide the plate onto the kitchen counter to present it to Cecelia. “Peanut butter and banana crackers!”
Her eyes widen. “Peanut butter and banana?”
“Trust me. It’s really good.”
“I’m allergic to peanut butter!” Cecelia’s cheeks turn bright pink. “Peanut butter could kill me! Are you trying to kill me?”
My heart sinks. Nina never said anything about a peanut butter allergy. And they have peanut butter right in their pantry! If her daughter has a deadly peanut allergy, why would she keep it in the house?
“Mommy!” Cecelia shrieks as she runs toward the staircase. “The maid tried to hurt me with peanut butter! Help, Mommy!”
Oh God.
“Cecelia!” I hiss at her. “It was an accident! I didn’t know you were allergic and—”
But Nina is already racing down the stairs. Despite the disarray of her house, she looks flawless right now in another one of her gleaming white skirt-and-blouse combinations. White is her color. Cecelia’s too, apparently. They match the house.
“What’s going on?” Nina cries when she reaches the bottom of the stairs.
I wince as Cecelia propels herself at her mother, wrapping her arms around Nina’s bosom. “She tried to make me eat peanut butter, Mommy! I told her I was allergic, but she didn’t listen.”
Nina’s pale skin flushes. “Millie, is this true?”
“I…” My throat feels completely dry. “I didn’t know she was allergic. I swear.”
Nina frowns. “I told you about her allergies, Millie. This is unacceptable.”
She never told me. She never said a word about Cecelia being allergic to peanuts. I would bet my life on it. And even if she had, why would she leave a jar of peanut butter right in the pantry? It was right in front!
But she won’t believe any of my excuses. In her head, I nearly killed her daughter. I see this job slipping out from under my fingers.