Maid for Martin Read online

  Maid For Martin

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales or events is not intended.

  All licensed products mentioned in this work are trademarks of their respective companies.

  Mary C. Findley, editor

  Copyright @ 2012 Samantha Lovern

  Fury Publishing all rights reserved

  All rights reserved.

  Cover image adapted from photographs from

  Fenias's Photography @ Dreamstime

  Sandra Cunningham @ Depositphotos

  Contact Samantha Lovern

  www.samanthalovern.com

  Where Romance Comes To Life

  ISBN-13: 978-1477631515

  ISBN-10: 1477631518

  Maid For Martin

  Chapter 1

  Maids 101

  Randi Sanders stood by her smoking pile of junk, tapping her foot, trying to clean the oil off her hands. When the cabby slowed and stopped she got in.

  “You can’t just leave your car here, they’ll tow it,” The man chimed as she closed the door.

  “That’s fine with me. I need to get to 5th and Washington ASAP. If you get a speeding ticket on the way I’ll pay it.”

  “Sure you will, and my name’s Elvis.”

  Randy reached into her pocket, pulled out her last hundred dollar bill, and held it out where the cabby could see it. “You get me there before two and this is yours, Elvis.”

  The man didn’t bother looking at the clock. He did a u-turn on the four-way street and gave the old cab the gas. "Elvis" didn’t bother with the usual chitchat, but while they sat at a light he held up his card. “You ever get in another jam, call me. I’ll go just about anywhere for the right price.”

  Randi took the card, pushing it into her pocket. “Good to know, since old Betsy just died.” Neither of them said another word until the cabby double-parked long enough for her to slide out in front of 5th and Washington.

  He was about to say something about his being late, it was two after two, but she cut him off. “Close enough, Elvis, thanks for trying.” She dropped the bill in the seat and took off, barely hearing the cabby thank her as she slammed the car door shut.

  She ran down the street to the Maids 101 entrance. The bell rang as she entered and Nancy Dials spoke without looking up. “You’re late.”

  “I know. Couldn’t be helped.”

  Nancy finally looked up and leaned back in her chair. “What in the world happened to you? You’re a mess.”

  “The car finally died. When something like that goes wrong, dad always just raises the hood, wiggles a few wires, and it comes back to life. All I did was get dirty.”

  “Dirty isn’t the word. You have oil on your pants, your shirt, and a bit on your face.”

  “I didn’t have time to clean up. I’m late as it is.”

  “Not too late. You’re my only hope today. Take this application and go on in. I’ll excuse the tardiness, but you have to get some dependable transportation.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Randi held out her right hand -- it was mostly clean -- and took the paper.

  “Don’t take time to wash. I need someone this evening.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Randi took the application to work for the Martin Taylor household and walked into the testing room.

  The seats reminded her of going back to school. Maids 101 didn’t want their applicants looking over their neighbor’s shoulder during the testing so they’d picked up some chair-and-desk sets from the local flea market.

  Five maids had showed up for the positions that were to be filled. Randi moved to a desk and sat down. As she glanced around the room, some of the girls gave her a dirty look. Most of them knew her, and knew she almost always got the best jobs.

  Every time the option to clean a new house came available the maids would be asked to fill out an application. It would have random questions about the applicant. 101 wanted to know if you knew the actor personally, if you were a fan, or if you’d heard of the person in question.

  The point was to see if the maid hired for the job could and would be able to act in a normal manner around the actor. As Randi looked at the other applicants, she thought back to the girl that was fired last week.

  She'd been placed in Pitt's house, knowing very well who he was. When Brad came walking in she freaked and started asking for his autograph. She was asked to leave and taken to the Maids 101 office. They reviewed her application, realized she lied, and canned her butt.

  This job paid 'way too much for Randi to even think about doing something like that. She hadn’t watched TV or read any entertainment magazines in the last five years. She enjoyed her job and was planning on keeping it as long as possible.

  Whenever anyone started talking about their favorite TV show or some new Hollywood actor she would leave or ask them to change the subject. It wasn’t the easiest thing, but if you didn’t know someone as an actor, it was easier to treat him or her as someone that was not famous.

  Fortunately, she’d been raised in a strict home and she hadn’t watched a lot of TV over the years. She was perfect for this job and thanked her lucky stars that she'd found it.

  As she looked over the list, she studied the shows and movies the actor Martin Taylor had starred in. She tapped the pen on her chin. None of them rang any bells. She filled out the paperwork and rose from her chair. One of the other candidates, a new hire, spoke up.

  “You’re done already? Is there some part we can skip? I’m Brandy, by the way.”

  Lori Jensen spoke before Randi could answer. The two of them didn’t get along at all. You could hear the sneer in her tone. “She’s one of Nancy’s pets. She’s a religious zealot. She never watches TV or anything . . . boring.”

  Randi looked at Brandy. “I don’t go to church, nor do I consider my family advocates against TV in general. Mom and dad just thought it was unhealthy to sit in front of a box for hours on end. I’ve also filled out several of these. I don’t watch TV or keep up with the glamor of Hollyweird so I can skip through most of the form.”

  “Whatever,” Lori said, going back to her paper.

  Randi ignored Lori and smiled at Brandy. “Also, I advise you not to lie. Nancy has been known to pull out the old lie detector now and then.” Randi ignored the dirty look Lori gave, turned, and walked into Nancy’s office.

  She knew if they did a random test on her that she'd pass. This Martin dude was no one to her. She stood waiting for Nancy to look over the papers, thinking that this money would have to go toward new transportation.

  It would be a weekend stay-over situation for a family gathering, and if she played her cards right she could end up with a permanent position.

  The gig would pay well, and she could use the money she’d make on a bike. She loved to ride and it would be cheaper than a car. A Harley would be nice. An image of sitting on the back of a newly-shined baby-blue Harley formed in her mind as Nancy spoke.

  “Everything looks in order. It's been a while since we tested you.” Nancy looked up, her red hair pulled into a tight bun. Nancy also had the bad habit of tapping her pen on her chin. She looked from the paper back to Randi. “I'm not going to waste our time. You've never caused us any issues in the past five years . . . don't start now.”

  “I won't. When do I leave?” Randi asked. “I need to go home and get cleaned up.”

  “Not so fast. I need to know a few things first.”

  “What don't you know about me already?”

  “Are you dating anyone? This Martin is a handsome fellow and one of the requests was that the girl be homely, or dating, and y
ou're not. In your file there's nothing about you having issues with being harassed. Mr. Taylor has a 'woman friend' and she's been known to be the jealous type.

  “If she starts cursing or yelling – I need to know that you'll take it, that you won't fly off the handle.”

  “No problems there. She can call me any name in the book. I won't care. I'll pull my hair up and find some ugly glasses. I can ugly down if the need arises.”

  Nancy laughed. “You do that, and if there are no issues over the next few weeks—”

  “Weeks? I thought this was a weekend deal.”

  “It was,” Nancy began, “but we got the request an hour ago. The get-together will start Friday and go until New Year's Day. The Taylor’s are planning for family to stay over, and decided they could use the extra help. Are you still in? I really need you to do this.”

  “Would I get off Christmas?” Randi crossed her arms, thinking it really didn’t matter.

  “I doubt it. I can try to get holiday pay. Would that keep you on board?”

  “Sure. Has there been any change in the payment arrangements? Same pay, per day?” Randi smiled. That blue Harley was getting even closer.

  “You bet, and this looks like it could become a regular job so show them what you’re made of. The usual rules come into play here, too. You treat Mr. Taylor like a king but don't show any attraction to the man. No staring, touching, nothing. Pretend you’re gay if you must.”

  “You got it. Is there only one position?” Randi recalled the dirty look Lori gave her.

  “No, I need at least one more girl, but I doubt any of those will pass muster. This one can’t have any mistakes so if no one else shows up, work hard enough for two.”

  “I can do that. When do I leave?”

  “Be here at five. The mistress of the house is a bear. No, make that four-thirty. Be packed, look the part, and don't be late. The limo will be here at five sharp.”

  “Limo?”

  “Yes, Limo. I talked to Celia Carson, the mistress of the house, and she said she’d be sure and have you girls picked up in the limo. Don’t forget, go in the side entrance. Last week we had a couple of girls show up at the front door.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No it wasn’t. It’s hard to find good help these days." Nancy smiled. “Present company excluded.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime. Now go make me proud. This is an important gig.”

  “I will.”

  “And don’t forget to clean up.” Nancy smiled and went back to work.

  Randi looked down at her messy clothes, took out the card Elvis had given her, and called him. She might be in a cab now but later she’d be riding in style.”

  Chapter 2

  Martin Taylor

  Martin Taylor ran his fingers through his brown hair. He turned to look at his own reflection in the mirror. His mother would be here in a few weeks, and she would tell him he needed to get a haircut. You’re starting to look like a girl, she would say.

  He would kiss her on the cheek and ignore her comments. His hair wasn’t long enough to make a girly ponytail, and unless it was for a movie, it never would be. A shave might be in order before she arrived. Surprisingly, his dad never mentioned the hair, or the crazy things that got reported in the papers.

  His mother, on the other hand, always hated anything that put him in a bad light. Time and time again he told her it was a part of the job, and that he paid it no mind. But mothers were mothers, and they forever would want to protect their children. He finally had learned to adjust to that fact.

  Seeing his family would be great. Getting the house ready wouldn’t be. Martin looked at the list. He hated ‘to do’ lists, and Celia Carson, his girlfriend, loved making them. At least there was no take out the trash on her 'honey do' list. He mentally started down the inventory of chores but his heart wasn’t in it.

  The sun and beautiful day were calling to him. He wanted to be in the pool, on the veranda, or on the bike, anywhere but here, looking at this list. Women loved to make lists, and loved to put the things they should be doing off on the men in their lives.

  Martin glanced at his phone lying on the desk as it rang. His Mother's smiling face flashed onto the screen. He let it ring two more times as he looked at the list. He didn’t like planning things. He liked spontaneity.

  He understood they needed to plan for Christmas dinner, but Celia wanted to plan every meal from Christmas day to New Year's Eve, and she wanted him to help.

  How was he going to stand this many people in his new home over the holidays? He reached for the phone, looking out at the setting sun. He’d wanted to take his family to Colorado for Christmas, but no, Celia had talked him into throwing the party of his life at his new home.

  The house wasn’t decorated. Some rooms needed curtains or linens. They would need the three maids Celia kept ranting about because in three days guests would begin to arrive.

  Martin picked up his Bluetooth. From a few days before Christmas to New Year's Day, his house would be full and running over with his family and Celia’s. He wanted to fast-forward to New Year's Day, when everyone would be leaving. After slipping on his Bluetooth, he spoke. “Hi, mom.”

  “Hi yourself. How are you? Is Celia driving you crazy about the party yet? I know this was not your idea.”

  “You’re right, it wasn’t,” Martin laughed. “And, yes. She’s driving me nuts. Today it’s the menu. You know she can’t cook, and she’s falling apart thinking the party will be a disappointment to everyone.”

  “Martin. You know I love you, but I just don’t understand. Why Celia? The two of you are so different.”

  “Maybe your opinion will change when you meet her.” Inwardly, Martin groaned. He could see it now: Women arguing, children crying, and the men going hungry.

  “Unless you’ve given me a drastically incorrect image of this woman, I don’t see my opinion changing. She can’t cook. She won’t clean or do the laundry. I don’t dare even dream of grandchildren. Sorry, but I just don’t understand.”

  Martin sighed. His mother didn’t pull any punches, and he hated to admit it, but hearing the description of Celia didn’t make her sound like a promising bride. “It’s not that bad,” he lied. “Things have changed. People don’t cook, they eat out.”

  “Are you saying you want to spend the rest of your life eating out? Wasting money? Has she ever cooked you breakfast or anything? Can you see her changing and wanting children a few years from now? I know you love kids.”

  “I don’t plan things out. You know I hate that.”

  “I know, and that’s always irritated me. You don’t get that from my side of the family. You should be dating someone like Patricia or Julia from our hometown, Church Lane girls. They would cook for you, clean your house -- not curse you or call your family names.”

  Martin’s brows shot up. So she had heard Celia’s comments last week. He’d tried to take his mother off speakerphone but hadn’t been quick enough. “Mom, I don’t live in Canada now, and you just caught Celia at a bad time. She doesn’t think you’re narrow-minded or old-fashioned.”

  Lillian laughed. “Don’t lie to me. I heard her, and you know good and well I’m old-fashioned. And maybe I am narrow-minded, but she’s lazy and a bit about herself.”

  “What does that mean?" Martin chuckled. “Celia’s confident, business-minded, and attractive.”

  “It means pretty is as pretty does. It’s not about your looks, it’s about how you treat people, and how you look inside that counts. I’m trying not to judge by what I’ve heard, but you haven’t made it easy.”

  “Me? What have I done?”

  “It’s not what you’ve done, it’s what you’ve said and not said. I never hear you mention what you’ve done for your friends or neighbors. Since you started dating Celia you’ve stopped donating your time to charity and I never hear you mention doing much of anything. When was the last time you went riding, or camping? She’s changing y
ou, Martin, and I don’t like it.”

  Martin rose, walking barefoot to the balcony, looking over the grounds. The sun was going down, and a slight breeze rustled the tips of his hair. Talking to his mother was making him homesick for cold weather, snow, fishing, and ice-surfing.

  Her voice too, was making him homesick. He didn’t dare mention it. She often complained that he could turn accents on and off at will. She always thought he was ashamed of his homeland but it wasn’t that at all. It was just that in his line of work most of the time people wanted an English accent.

  He got his mind back on the conversation and answered her. “I haven’t changed. I give plenty of money to charity. Celia does too. I know we’re opposites, but it works.”

  “Does it? Martin, opposites attract, but the question is can they or should they co-exist? While we’re on the topic, I want you to know I will not stay under your roof if you and Celia are sharing a room.”

  Martin returned inside and ran his fingers through his hair. “Do we have to go there?”

  “Yes. We do. I know it’s old-fashioned, but if you want me to be a guest in your home—”

  “I understand and I’ll comply.” Martin had never told his mother that he and Celia were living together, but, along with other things, she’d figured it out.

  “Good,” She added. “I apologize if you think I’m over-stepping some boundary, but I will not apologize for my beliefs.”

  “I understand. I don’t have a problem with it.” He knew Celia would, but he would cross that bridge when he had to.

  “I know you’re a grown man, but you will always be my child. I didn’t call to pick. Sorry about that. I called to let you know our reservations are ready. We should be there Friday.”

  “Good. I can’t wait to see you.”

  “Same here. Now I should go finish packing. I love you, Martin, and I don’t mean to criticize. Marriage is a huge step. I want you to think this through. I assume we’re coming together for more than a dinner. It just worries me if she’s not the one.”

  Martin said his goodbyes and ended the call. Was everyone expecting an engagement announcement? He hoped not. He wasn’t planning on one. His brow furrowed. Was Celia thinking the same thing?