4 Men Of The House

I feel a cool breeze coming off the lake at the side of the house.
It really is a magnanimous place, which I would feel better able to enjoy if I didn’t have
the weight of Simon’s mission hanging around my shoulders. He expects me to report to him and
everything.
I try to tame the aching sense of foreboding at having to be a spy, and I confidently ring
the bell.
Some guy, some kid, swings open the door to reveal a flurry of people running around
behind him with various tasks at hand.
“Hey, who are you?” he asks.
“Me? Oh, I’m Meg. Mrs. Simmons sent for me. I’m here to be the new maid.”
This kid can’t be more than sixteen years old. He stares at me—or rather ogles me—as all
teenage boys are tempted to do.
And then he says, “Okay then. Well, Mrs. Simmons is upstairs. I’ll get her. I’m her son.”
Mrs. Simmons is the head of the household, and she’s the one who hired me. I had rather
expected her to answer the door and for things in the mansion to be quiet. Instead, there are
people running every which way with flowers and decorations, oversized candles, swaths of
fabric, and technical equipment.
The boy is gone before I can stop him and ask what’s going on. I shuffle my feet
nervously in the doorway, waiting for direction on where to go.
This is not my usual gig. I don’t know how a maid is supposed to act. Luckily, I don’t
have to wait long because an older, homely looking woman who I can only assume is Mrs.
Simmons appears.
She comes down one of the two grand staircases that adorn the room.
“Oh, Meg. How lovely to see you. I’m so glad you found the place,” she says warmly.
“Thanks. It wasn’t hard to find. Most people seem to know about the Belcourt Estate,” I
say.
“Yes, well, George…Mr. Belcourt was very generous with the local people. He’s been a
huge loss to our community.”
“I can imagine,” I say with all sincerity.