“I am not on board with this,” Enzo tells me when I come out to my backyard to ask for the name of the private detective he knows. “This is not right.”
When I told him my plan a few weeks ago, he was not happy. You would sacrifice somebody else? But he didn’t understand.
“Andy controls me because of Cece,” I say. “This girl has no children. No attachments. Nothing he can hold over her. She can leave.”
“You know it doesn’t work that way,” he grumbles.
“Will you help me or not?”
His shoulders sag. “Yes. You know I will help.”
So I hire the private investigator Enzo recommended to me using some of the remaining money I had squirreled away. And the detective tells me everything I need to know about Wilhelmina Calloway. He tells me that she got fired from her last job—and they were close to calling the police on her. He tells me she’s living in her car. And he tells me one other tidbit that changes everything. Right after I hang up with the detective, I call Millie and offer her the job.
The only problem is Andy.
He won’t want a stranger living in our house. He has reluctantly allowed people to come in for a few hours to clean, but that’s it. He never even allows anyone to babysit for Cecelia except for his mother. But the timing works out very well. Andy’s father recently retired and after taking a bad fall on a patch of ice, they decided to move down to Florida. I could tell Evelyn was not enthusiastic about the idea and they decided to retain their old house for the summer, but most of their friends had relocated to southern Florida by now. And Andy’s father was looking forward to spending his retirement playing golf every day with his buddies.
What it comes down to is that we need help.
The trickiest part is that Millie’s new bedroom will be in the attic. He won’t like that at all. But it has to be that way. He has to see her up there if I want him to think of her as my replacement. I have to entice him.
I set the stage before I spring her on him. I wake up every morning complaining of migraines that make it impossible for me to cook or clean. I work hard to leave the house a complete mess. Another few days and our house would be ready to be condemned. We need help. Desperately.
Still, right after Andy discovers I’ve hired Millie, he corners me outside my car. His fingers bite into my biceps as he gives me a good hard yank. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Nina?”
“We need help.” I lift my chin defiantly. “Your mother isn’t around. We need someone to watch Cece and to help clean.”
“You put her in the attic,” he growls. “That’s your room. You should put her in the guest room.”
“And where will your parents stay when they come to visit us? The attic? The living room sofa?”
I see his jaw working as he considers this. Evelyn Winchester would never sleep on the living room sofa.
“Just let her stay for two months,” I say. “Until the school year is over and I have more free time to clean, and your mother will come back up from Florida.”
“Forget it.”
“So fire her if you want.” I blink at him. “I can’t stop you.”
“Believe me, I will.”
Except he doesn’t fire her. Because when he comes home that night, for the first time, the house is clean. And she serves him a dinner that isn’t burned. And she is young and beautiful.
So Millie stays in the attic.
This will only work if three things happen:
Millie and Andy have a mutual attraction.
Millie hates me enough to sleep with my husband.
They have the opportunity.
The attraction part is easy. Millie is gorgeous—even more attractive than I was when I was younger—and although Andy is getting on in years compared with her, he is still devastatingly handsome. Sometimes Millie looks at me like she can’t quite figure out what he sees in me. I do my best to pack on the pounds. Since Andy doesn’t have the option of locking me in the attic, I dare to skip my hair appointment and let the darker roots start to show.
And most of all, I treat Millie like crap.
It doesn’t come easily to me to treat her that way. Deep down, I’m a nice person. Or at least, I used to be before Andy wrecked me. Now everything is a means to an end. Millie might not deserve it, but I can’t do this anymore. I have to get out.
She starts hating me on her first morning at our house. I’ve got a PTA meeting in the evening, and I march into the kitchen first thing in the morning. I have left a mess over the last couple of weeks, and Millie did an amazing job cleaning up. She worked really hard. Every surface is shining.