Jennifer Crusie - Maybe This Time

Two

"You're late," a voice snapped from behind Andie, and she turned and saw a plump, overly powdered, elderly woman, her pale, watery, protruding eyes hostile under her improbably red-orange updo, her large white arms folded.

"Yes," Andie said, putting her suitcase down on the floor. "You must be Mrs. Crumb. I'm--"

"Andromeda Miller. Mr. Archer told me." Mrs. Crumb nodded, her arms folded over the aggressively flowered apron that covered her equally aggressive bosom. "He tells me everything. He trusts me like I was his own mother."

The enormity of the lies in that short speech left Andie stunned, not just at the thought of North telling the old lady everything--North didn't tell anybody everything--but also at him somehow collating Lydia and Mrs.

Crumb.

"I know what's best, so you do as I say, and we'll all get along fine."

She smiled at Andie, but her eyes were cold. "That's Carter," she went on, jerking her head toward the boy without looking at him, "and that's Alice, and they're your students. Everything else, I take care of." She transferred her reptile smile to the little girl. "I'm the one who stays with the little lambs.

They know I'm the one they can count on."

The girl ignored her, but the boy looked back at her, his eyes like stone.

If that kid is a lamb, the wolves are toast, Andie thought.

"So now that you understand how things work," Mrs. Crumb went on,

"I'll take you to your room." She took a step closer and Andie caught a whiff of peppermint and booze. "But don't you get any ideas about me working for you."

Andie looked at her, exasperated. She might just be feeling threatened--Mrs. Crumb made a short nod toward Andie's suitcase. "You'll have to carry that. I'm not your servant. And I'll be needing some help around the house, so don't think you're too good to pick up a broom." She sniffed. "I know your kind."

"I'm afraid there's been a mistake," Andie said, stepping on her temper. "I'm not a nanny. And for the next month, I'm the one in charge."

"Oh?" Mrs. Crumb smiled again, false pity in the tilt of her head. "Mr.

Archer put somebody he doesn't even know over me?" She chuckled without humor. "I don't think so. You'll do as I say or I'll tell Mr. Archer. And then we'll just see what happens."

The little girl continued scooping orange whatever, but the boy was watching now.

"Miller is my professional name," Andie said. "My married name is Archer."

Mrs. Crumb's smile froze in place.

Andie shoved her ringless left hand in her coat pocket. "Mrs. North Archer. My husband sent me here for a month to fix whatever's wrong." She walked over to the table and looked into the bowls, since meeting Mrs.

Crumb's eyes after that lie was not easy. "After we make our assessment, we'll decide on the children's future."

"Your husband?" Mrs. Crumb said, sounding torn between outrage and fear.

Andie pointed to the kids' bowls. "Mrs. Crumb, what are the lambs having for dinner?"

"Macaroni and cheese." Mrs. Crumb put her chin up. "That's good for them."

"And... ?"

"And what?"

"Where are the vegetables? Fruit? Protein? Grains? Dairy? You have fat, starch, and yellow dye number two covered, now let's try fiber and vitamins."

"I don't need to listen to this," Mrs. Crumb said, her smile gone now.

"Actually, you do." Andie went over to the cupboard and opened it to see boxes of mac and cheese and jars of pasta in some kind of toxic orange sauce. "Oh, my God."

"You fancy city people," Mrs. Crumb said as Andie opened the refrigerator.

There was a jar of jam, a loaf of white bread, a gallon jug of milk that was almost empty, and two squares of American cheese.

She turned back to the table. "You're going to have to do better than this."

"That's what they eat, " Mrs. Crumb said. "That's kid food. "

The children were both watching her now, the little girl scooping more mac and cheese, the boy with his head ducked low, two pairs of Archer blue eyes boring into her over Archer cheekbones. They were thin, pale, and hostile, but nothing about either one of them said "victim."

Andie smiled at the little girl. "So you're Alice."

The little girl put on the headphones to her Walkman and turned up the volume.

Andie transferred her smile to the boy. "And you must be Carter."

He ignored her.

"Yeah, I'm thrilled to be here, too," Andie said. "But since we're stuck with each other--"

"Now you listen here," Mrs. Crumb blustered. "You can't come in here and change things all around. I don't believe you're married to Mr.

Archer." She lifted her chin again. "You are not a lady."

"And you are not a cook." Andie turned her attention back to Carter.

"Things will get better," she told him.

He ignored her and ate more mac and cheese.

Andie took a deep breath. "Okay, look, it's my job to make you safe and healthy and I'm going to do that. For the next month, you'll have decent meals..."

"Well, I never, " Mrs. Crumb said.

"... and I'll see to your education and maybe we can get you both back to school in your regular grade levels, and when I leave, there'll be good people taking care of you, I promise."

Carter stared at her with his flat eyes, unimpressed.

"Not military school. We'll put you in public school. In Columbus.

There are very good schools there." She looked at Alice.

Alice kept eating, her headphones blocking all other sound.

"She won't go," Mrs. Crumb said, her voice fat with satisfaction. "You don't understand--"

"Mrs. Crumb, do you want to remain employed?" Andie said.

"Because right now, it's not looking good for you."

The housekeeper glared at her, and Andie stared back, unimpressed.

After a moment, Mrs. Crumb pursed her painted lips and sat down across the table from where Andie stood, forcing a smile. "We got off to a bad start."

"Yes," Andie said, waiting to see what her next move was.

"There are things about this house you don't know," Mrs. Crumb said, leaning forward, and Carter stopped eating to watch her. "It's a big house, there's history in this house. I've been here all my life, since I was sixteen, I know this house. You need me."

Carter went back to his mac and cheese and Andie thought, That's notwhat he was expecting. "The history of the house isn't important to me. The kids are."

"It ain't just the history," Mrs. Crumb said, her eyes dark. "There's things here you can't understand."

"Ghosts?" How dumb do you think I am? "I don't believe in ghosts. I do believe in nutrition and basic curriculum skills, so that's what I'll be concentrating on."

Mrs. Crumb dropped her voice. "Some things you can't believe are real."

"Like this stuff you're feeding the children." Andie looked at the orange smears left in Alice's bowl as she polished off the last of her pasta.

"I've never seen macaroni and cheese that color before. Does it glow in the dark?"

Mrs. Crumb got up and took the children's bowls. "We should get along, you and me. You're going to need me."

Andie looked at the old woman's cold little eyes. Jesus, I hope not.

"I'd like to see my bedroom, please."

"I'll show you everything," Mrs. Crumb said, her defiance back. "I'll just show you."

"Just my bedroom," Andie said, but Mrs. Crumb had already headed for a door in the far wall, so she smiled one last time at the kids, picked up her suitcase, and followed the housekeeper.

It was going to be a long month.

Andie followed Mrs. Crumb into a short dismal hallway with faded wallpaper and a worn wood floor. The housekeeper turned to go up a narrow flight of equally worn wooden stairs that were probably the servant stairs, and then she stopped on the first step, her watery, protruding eyes even with Andie's now.