The house felt too quiet.
Quiet like a huge, expensive house where even your shoes sound loud. I kept looking at the clock while I cooked. My tummy felt fluttery because today, big guests were coming. Nick's "big" guests meant super-rich guests. Fancy suits, tons of money, and attitudes taller than buildings.
And me?
A 23-year-old cook and new cleaner who almost hit her boss with a lamp earlier.
Yep. Great.
I finished putting the cooked vegetables on the last plate when I heard the doorbell ding from the hall.
That deep sound that screamed, rich people are here.
I wiped my hands on my apron and stood up straight.
Time to work, Emma.
But instead of the guests, the first person out was Ms Cora.
She walked in quickly, pushing her glasses up her nose. She looked around the house like a boss, checking her workers.
"Good afternoon, Ms Cora," I said brightly.
Her eyes narrowed. "Why do you sound... happy?"
"I didn't get fired today."
"That makes sense."
