Best Maid Plans Page 8

  I glanced at Rebecca and took a breath. I was going to talk to Stephanie how I wanted to. I wanted to be me.

  “I just love your dress sense,” I said as Stephanie reached me. “If I ever become a millionaire, I’m taking you shopping with me.”

  Stephanie did a twirl and linked arms with me. “Non, I take you, perhaps you can find me another English heart to love, non?”

  Rebecca blinked at me and Berne raised an eyebrow.

  “I could find you plenty but I’m sure they’d faint... a lot.”

  I shrugged as she led me up the path. “We don’t see French women enough.”

  Stephanie flicked out her keys. “Mais, you are all so much more...” She hummed again. It was a tone or two higher than Berne’s—like I’d know about tone—but still pleasant. “Reasonable.”

  I thumbed over my shoulder at Berne. “I’m not sure my gorgeous artisan back there would agree.”

  See, I could not be closeted. Sort of. Okay, so I was blushing but I’d had a go. That counted.

  Stephanie ran her gaze over Berne. “She argues with you?” She wagged her finger. “She never argues with anyone.”

  “I know.” I gave Stephanie a sneaky grin. “She is even harder to ignore when she’s worked up.”

  Stephanie laughed. “Ah, this is why you like to argue, oui?”

  Berne and Rebecca exchanged a nervous look.

  Yes, if they’d worried about me running off with Stephanie, they hadn’t bargained on me having someone to dig information out of.

  ◆◆◆

  The house was a state inside. I didn’t know what Stephanie’s carpenter had been doing but, whoever they were, they needed to retake some classes, or maybe all of them.

  “So they said that the place would be ready a few months ago?” I asked, trying not to let on how badly she’d been ripped off.

  “Oui, mais their priority is the business. It has not been easy to agree the schedules.” Stephanie picked a piece of plaster off the wall. It fell in a clump and shattered by her feet.

  Berne glared at the stone as if she was offended it would ever look so shabby.

  “Who are your workmen?” Rebecca asked, looking about as impressed as Berne as she navigated a nail jutting out of the floor.

  “Natalie,” Stephanie grunted. She averted her eyes, looking anywhere but Berne.

  Berne put her hands on her hips. “She is responsible for this?” She scowled. “Why? Why would she do this?”

  Stephanie leaned against the wall. “I have my suspicions but her work for the business is always good.”

  “So why don’t you just have her work there and get someone else for this place?” Rebecca asked. She folded her tattooed arms. They were pink. She’d need After-sun or maybe yogurt.

  “She cannot,” Berne grunted. “Artisans work for the business. It is a perk. While they do so, they are used for all the work.” She met my eyes. “It is a way to keep them loyal.”

  “That a French thing?” Rebecca asked.

  I shrugged. I had no idea.

  Rebecca frowned.

  I held up my hands. Why was I supposed to be some kind of expert?

  “Non, we put it in the contracts. Most are desperate to work for us. There is even a waiting list.” Stephanie smiled a sad smile. “This...” she motioned to the house. “Does not happen... usually.”

  “Emilie.” Berne’s disgust and fury poured through. If there was one thing that would make her fiery, it was dodgy workmanship. “I feel at fault.”

  “It is not your fault,” Stephanie shook her head. “It is her temper.”

  “You’re business partners?” Rebecca chewed on her lip. “Can you buy her out?”

  “Non, I own it but she will not accept this.” Stephanie sighed. “She funded the business when I leave the gendarme, she ties me in knots with the conditions.”

  “And that means you can’t cancel the agreement with Natalie, right?” Rebecca tapped her finger to her lip as Stephanie nodded. “When is it up for renewal?”

  “A few months, mais, I cannot afford to pay her for this work if it continues.” She sighed. “I will have to sell it... or Emilie will take it from me.”

  Ooh Emilie was nasty.

  Berne shoved her hands in her pockets. “Why would she be this way? You have done nothing to her.”

  Stephanie shrugged. “I turn away from the affairs, I do not argue...” Her eyes filled with tears. “I did not wish to be a prisoner any more. I wish to make a fresh start, away from her.”

  And Natalie must have been getting some incentive to make such a mess. Emilie could swoop in and take everything from Stephanie even though she’d been the one to split them up. I didn’t like it. It reminded me of when Rebecca had been fired back in London. The same sense of frustration crept up from my stomach.

  “We’ll help you,” I said.

  Berne, Rebecca and Stephanie stared at me.

  “This is going to be your home, right?” I asked.

  Stephanie stared at the bare stone. “I use all my money for it.”

  “And you can’t pay anyone to help?” Rebecca asked. Her eyes twinkled. I knew she’d get it.

  “Non,” Stephanie whispered.

  “You have materials?” Berne asked.

  I stared at her.

  She gave a determined nod. Gone was any impartiality it seemed.

  “Oui. I cannot ask this. I needed to know if it was not a good job. If you will just tell me how to fix it, I will try myself.” Stephanie looked around, heartbreak in her eyes. “I was going to pay you for the work you come to see mais she has blocked my access to the account.”

  Berne grunted. “It is unsafe.” She wagged her finger. “You are not living here unless I am sure it is so.” She smiled at me. “We will fix it. We are your friends.”

  Stephanie sighed. “Emilie will not—”

  “If she has a problem, she can talk to me.” Berne’s tone held every ounce of the anger pulsing through her eyes.

  “I can help Berne with the stonework.” I took a breath. Wow, Berne really did look scrumptious angry. “I can rewire too. Julian, the electrician who worked on our house, can check it?” I looked to Berne who smiled. Yeah, Julian would do that. He was a friend of her father’s. He had succumbed to the Chamonix charm. “Rebecca is great at project managing and technical things.”

  Rebecca grinned. “I’m also not afraid of getting my hands dirty.”

  Stephanie shook her head. Awe shone in her eyes. “I cannot do this. It will bruise your friendship with Emilie.”

  Berne huffed out a breath. “She treats you with contempt, puts me in the middle, she cuts you off from money you earned, allows Natalie to act such a way...” She swiped her hand through the air like she was imagining slapping Emilie. “And... she insults Pepe.” She folded her arms. “I am not happy.”

  Oh, I loved her. I hugged myself wanting to sink into her embrace.

  Berne caught sight of me and love, affection, desire poured through her eyes. “Pepe, Rebecca and I, we will help.”

  “I have no money,” Stephanie whispered, leaning her head to the wall. “I cannot accept that.”

  “You helped Berne when she wanted to be a gendarme,” I said with a smile. “I bet she didn’t pay you.”

  “Non, it was a favour.” Stephanie waved her hand to dismiss it. “I did not do it for it to be returned.”

  “Then, this is the same thing, only with less uniforms and more hard hats.” I gave my best dashing smile.

  “Uniforms and hats?” Rebecca raised her eyebrows at me. Her smutty laugh rolled from her lips.

  “You didn’t see Berne in her uniform.” I sighed. “Knee high boots.”

  They all stared at me. Rebecca cocked her head, Stephanie chuckled and Berne gave me a sultry smile.

  “Exactly, now, whip out a pen, Whitey, we have to list the jobs.”

  Rebecca did just that and Berne and I ran through everything we could find. It was a shell at best. I was sure th
e derelict cottage we’d turned into our home had been in better shape.

  I watched Berne a lot as we went around. She was the picture of trained arrogance. Her slouched stance and bored expression looked much like distain. But... maybe I wasn’t looking properly?

  Her eyes glinted with anger—By what she’d said, she felt responsible for Stephanie’s heartache. Slouching? Or maybe her back was hurting her? Maybe the distain was more trying to figure out how she would cope with the extra workload? Rebecca and I were fine, we didn’t have money or responsibilities but Berne did.

  The more I watched, the more I noted tell-tale gestures. The glance at Rebecca, on the surface looked like irritation but she was focused on Rebecca’s sunburn. The distant stare out of the window, perhaps some memory. The grunt when asked a question, perhaps an answer she found hard to give. What could she say to a friend she could see was being robbed?

  The pained look as she met my eyes—she needed comfort. My heart filled with affection. She said so little with words. Even though she could philosophise or dazzle when need be.

  Social graces and Gallic charm aside, in private, she was shy, quiet and often guarded. I wanted to re-learn how she moved, every nuance, all over again. For now, I smiled back with every bit of reassurance I could muster.

  Berne’s eyes filled with relief.

  “I cannot pay you for this,” Stephanie mumbled again. “You cannot take such time to help.”

  “We will start in the morning. I will hear no more of this,” Berne grunted, turning back to Stephanie whose eyes glistened with tears. Berne wrapped her in a cuddle, worry and anger in her every movement.

  I sniffed. I was rubbish when people cried.

  Rebecca handed me a tissue. “You think you can do all this work?”

  “Yes.” Said like I was determined, confident. Ooh, look at me.

  “I wish to help too,” Stephanie said, squeezing us each in turn. The relief in her eyes made it worth trying to figure out if I even had the petrol to drive there and back every day. Would Winston cope with it? What if his head gasket did need changing?

  Berne offered a simple nod, stoic as always. “We will be happy to teach you.”

  Stephanie’s phone rang, her lip trembled. “I must leave.... I... I have to go.”

  She hurried out of the door without another word. We walked to the open doorway and watched her roar off in her truck. She hadn’t even locked the front door. I glanced around. What would they steal, clumps of plaster?

  “How did they get together?” I asked, sliding my hand into Berne’s.

  “Stephanie was stationed at the airport. Emilie was much older. She comes from money. Stephanie had no family, no money.” Berne squeezed my hand. “Emilie wanted her and Stephanie...” She sighed. “I do not know why she cared for Emilie but love is not always making sense, non?”

  “So you don’t really like Emilie either?” Rebecca stuck her hands on her hips.

  “I do not say this.” Even if it sounded like it. “Emilie would never be my choice as a lover.” Berne met my eyes as if wanting to make sure I understood. “As an ex-lover, she is très difficile, non?”

  I squeezed her hand, glad of the reassurance.

  “A bitch, you mean?” Rebecca muttered. “Why wreck Stephanie’s home?”

  “Stephanie is a good woman mais Emilie forgets this.” Berne let out a long breath, turning to me. “If she had money, she would throw it at us.”

  “It’s not like we’ve ever been rich anyway.” Rebecca met Berne’s gaze. “It’ll be fun.”

  Berne nodded, winced and rubbed at her back. I led her over to Rebecca’s Land Rover—which I still didn’t know how she’d wrangled out of Doug—and smiled.

  “You ride with her back to the house, okay?” I said, then tensed. Rebecca didn’t know about the accident. Oops. “Um... you need to keep an eye on Rebecca... Um... sunstroke.” I hoped my smile was confident. “The pink lemon slice she is.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Or the big cool scar down hot stuff’s back is hurting her.”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it. “Excuse me?”

  “Yeah, the one you didn’t say a thing about.” She wagged her finger at me. “I’ll start tickling you for information if you don’t stop hiding things.”

  I squirmed then hung my head. Fair cop.

  “I know you love Winston,” I whispered to Berne who was staring at him like she would cry. “But Rebecca has heated seats and suspension.”

  “Are you telling your woman that I’m a better ri—”

  I clamped my hand over Rebecca’s mouth. “Beyond disgusting.”

  Rebecca stuck her tongue out but I snapped my hand away in time. Hah.

  “You love it,” she said between infuriating chuckles. She beeped the car to open it. “Step on in, Madame.”

  Berne met my eyes. She looked so helpless: As if to turn down Winston was a snub to me. I loved the cranky, crotchety hunk of metal but I didn’t have a bad back. “I’ll let you ride with her but don’t forget who’s massages you prefer.”

  Berne’s eyebrows shot up. Yeah, I’d sounded a lot more sultry than I could ever have intended. Didn’t matter, I was going with it.

  “Now I want a massage,” Rebecca said, jutting out her bottom lip.

  “Ask the dynamo.” I turned and strolled to Winston. Cool moment. I could be cool. His door wouldn’t budge. I yanked at it, it groaned open and smacked me in the knees. Yes, very cool.

  Rebecca pulled alongside as I fished out the keys from their usual hiding place. I cranked down the window, thankful for some relief from the baking heat inside.

  “Want to go in front?” Rebecca asked.

  It was plausible that Winston may have one of his senior moments and splutter to a halt at the side of the road. “Just don’t whinge when I’m on a hill.”

  “Maybe I’ll just attach a tow rope.”

  I ignored her remark and eyed the steering wheel. It shimmered in the heat. I plucked up the courage to touch it. The seat was trying to melt my legs. “He takes his time but he gets there.”

  I sucked in a breath, gripped the wheel, then snapped my hands away. Hot, hot, hot. I blew on my stinging fingers. I’d have to hold onto the bottom of the wheel. I fished out the sun cream and handed it to Rebecca through the window. “Slow and steady is good.”

  She splashed the cream on, wincing. I’d have to ask Berne to buy yogurt. “I’ll take fast and air-conditioned, thanks.”

  She was teasing. She loved Winston as much as I did. He was our boy. Not many people could say they still drove their first car. I was proud of that. He’d driven us to London from Gloucester—our escape. He’d been there, my companion, on trips to see Doug, back and forth on the motorways, and now here in France.

  “I’ll take fresh air,” I shot back, shoving my head out of the window. My legs dribbled with sweat, and by the tickle, there was a fair amount running down my chest too. I didn’t miss Berne’s lingering gaze. Winston clearly had a way with her.

  He spluttered into life and hacked and coughed his way up the rugged lane. Yes, we shuddered along together. Summer scents in the air—I coughed—and the flies, but France was in bloom.

  A paying job was still elusive but I felt good. We could help Stephanie. I felt even better that we were doing it together. I’d wanted to work with Berne again. I loved working with Rebecca and we’d be helping someone escape her heartache.

  It sounded like a fantastic plan.

  Chapter 9

  We spurred our plan into action and let Berne break the news to Babs. I’d gone to see Madame Chamonix to tell her about Stephanie’s problem, hoping that she would curb Monsieur Chamonix’s need to help. I didn’t fancy testing how much heavy lifting his pacemaker battery could take.

  Madame Chamonix had agreed to keep an eye on him and had offered up rides in the Chamonix van and lunches to keep us going. I loved Berne’s parents. They made living in France so much easier.

  Rebecca, Berne and I
were trying to make things easier for Stephanie too. In Babs’s absence, Rebecca had itemised our jobs in order and estimated how long each one might take; Berne had then turned that into a timescale and added in when each set of materials would be needed; I’d brought the chocolate... It was better I didn’t organise anything. And, with said chocolate stash in tow, I got out of Winston on a fine, crisp morning. The scent of dew was in the air and the sun twinkled off the sea on the horizon. I closed my eyes to listen to the birds singing away, the lazy crack of Winston as his metal cooled and... sobbing?

  I peeked open an eye and frowned. Stephanie stood in her doorway in tears—The type she was trying to hide by fanning her mascara and failing miserably.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, forgetting that it would help to speak in French.

  “It is nothing.” She studied the rubble next to the door.

  “This a French thing?” I said, slumping down next to her. “Berne always says she’s fine when she’s not.”

  Stephanie met my eyes. “In the books I read, this is not so. The British, you are all having the soldered lip, non?”

  I chuckled. “A stiff upper lip, yes.” Come to think of it I knew a few people back in Britain who looked like they’d been soldered. “You like Britain?”

  She nodded. I was glad her eyes brightened and a smile appeared. “I always dream of going there, living in an English house.”

  “You really do?” I looked out at the sparkling sea in the distance. “Because this is pretty wow.”

  She nodded. “I like it here also but I always dreamed of a strong, kind...” She sighed. “Someone who cares.”

  I studied her for a moment. I knew when I was avoiding topics and genders and Stephanie sounded like she was doing the same. “Someone?”

  She sighed and snatched up a blade of grass. “Perhaps... not a woman sometimes.”

  I leaned back on my hands. “Well, you do have terrible taste in them, perhaps a man would be better.”

  She eyed me, a wariness in her eyes. “You have no problem with this?”

  “Oh no, I was engaged to the most wonderful, daft, generous and kind hearted man.” I grinned at the thought of Doug. “If I hadn’t loved Berne so much, I’d have married him... when I was drunk or fifty or something.”