a precaution. I was able to get an appointment for this afternoon—Oh, and by the way, I was also able to change my appointment with Jefferson Harper as well.
“Before my meeting, though, I’d like to rework my original proposal to include a rough estimate for the maid service we discussed earlier. Later, we’ll draw up an official contract, of course, but what I need right now is an amount—just a ballpark figure—for what you would charge for supplying weekly service for each apartment.”
Charlotte stepped closer to the desk. “I understand there are four apartments in the building. Is that correct?”
When Marian nodded, Charlotte pretended to do a quick mental calculation. After all, business was business, as Hank was always reminding her. These people are your clients, Mother. They’re not your friends. It was a lesson she’d learned the hard way, dealing with her former clients, the Dubuissons. And, in all fairness to her son, she had to agree that it was just plain good business sense not to let a prospective client know how eager she was about a job.
With just four apartments, she’d already figured out that she’d only have to hire one additional full-time employee. She pointed at a pen and pad of paper. “May I?” she asked.
When Marian nodded, Charlotte picked up the pen and proceeded to jot down the figures she’d done earlier. The first figure she came up with was a calculation of the number of hours per week needed to service the four apartments. Then she multiplied the resulting figure by the hourly wage she normally charged a client. Built into that figure was her margin of profit, an allowance for cleaning supplies, and insurance, as well as the employee’s hourly wage and benefits. Circling the final figure, she pointed at it with the pen.
“This total per week should be pretty accurate,” she told Marian.
Marian stared at the figure for several seconds, then nodded. “Good. At least now I have something to work with.”
When the phone jangled, both women jumped at the unexpected intrusion. Just as Marian reached for the receiver, Aaron cried out.
“Mom! I’m sick again!”
With a long-suffering but worried look, Marian shoved away from the computer and stood. “Guess I spoke too soon,” she said, casting an irritated glare at the phone as it rang again. “That could be a call I’m expecting.”
“Mom! Hurry!”
“I’m coming, Aaron,” she yelled. To Charlotte she said, “Could you get that for me?” Then, without waiting for an answer, she rushed toward the door. “Just take a number,” she said over her shoulder, “and tell them I’ll call them right back.”
As Marian disappeared through the door, Charlotte picked up the phone. “Hebert Real Estate. May I help you?”
There was no response for several seconds, then…“Charlotte? Is that you, Charlotte?”
“Ah…yes. May I ask—”
“So now Marian has you answering the phone too. Or have you gone into real estate instead of the cleaning business?”
Charlotte frowned, trying to place the familiar female voice. When a mental image of a former client named Katherine Bergeron suddenly clicked into place, her frown turned into a warm smile. “No, Katherine,” she answered. “I still run Maid-for-a-Day. I wouldn’t know the first thing about selling real estate. But my goodness, what has it been, at least a couple of years since I’ve seen you? I’m amazed you recognized my voice.”
“Process of elimination, Charlotte. Marian probably didn’t mention it, but I’m the one who recommended you to her in the first place. We’ve known each other for years. Why, Bill and Marian grew up with my husband, and we were all the best of friends. Bill even once worked for my father. Then after Daddy died and Drew took over the firm, Bill worked for him as well until he decided to jump ship and form his own company.”
Charlotte already knew about Bill Hebert’s association with her former client, thanks to Bitsy. Once Bitsy had learned that Charlotte was working for Marian Hebert, she’d been quick to fill Charlotte in on all the gossip concerning Marian’s husband. And according to Bitsy, Bill’s and Drew Bergeron’s parting had been a bitter one, though Bitsy didn’t know exactly why.
“But, Charlotte,” Katherine continued, “I would have recognized your voice anyway. You know I’ve never forgiven you for leaving me, especially in my delicate condition.”
“Now, Katherine, that’s not fair and you know it. There’s no way I can work exclusively for anyone, besides which, with you threatening to miscarry and all, you needed specialized help at the time. And speaking of your former delicate condition, how is that baby girl of yours? What is she now? Almost four?”
“She’ll turn four in November. And she’s not a baby anymore. What she is, though, is a handful. I’m afraid I’ve spoiled her rotten ever since…”
…ever since Drew’s death…. Charlotte mentally completed Katherine’s sentence. It had been a tragic accident—Drew Bergeron’s small private plane had gone down in a storm over the Gulf of Mexico two years earlier—made even more tragic since his body was never recovered. And knowing the reason for the sudden silence on the other end of the phone, Charlotte rushed in to fill the gap. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think a little spoiling will hurt her,” she offered.
“Oh, Charlotte, that’s what I truly miss about you. You always seemed to understand and know just the right thing to say. If it wasn’t for Daisy being such a jewel, I’d try to steal you back from Marian in a heartbeat.”
“I take it that Daisy is still with you then.”
“Yes—yes, she is, and I can never thank you enough for recommending her. In fact, in a roundabout way, she’s the reason I’m calling Marian. Daisy told me she’d heard that Marian is handling the Devilier apartments. Daisy knew that I’ve been looking for something to use as a guest residence for out-of-town friends during Mardi Gras and the Jazz Fest. Since those apartments are just down the block from me, they would be a perfect location. Is Marian in?”
Charlotte glanced up and was surprised to see Marian standing in the doorway. How long had she been standing there? Charlotte wondered. How long had she been listening and watching? And why the strange look, a seething look of bitterness that was totally out of character?
Charlotte shifted uneasily, and though she averted her gaze, she couldn’t shake the image of Marian’s expression or the uncomfortable feeling it gave her.
Chapter Four
“Hold on a moment, Katherine, and I’ll see if she can take your call.”
“Thanks, Charlotte,” Katherine replied, “and it’s been really nice talking to you again.”
“Same here,” Charlotte answered. Muffling the receiver against her chest, she glanced over at Marian again. “It’s Katherine Bergeron,” she told her softly. “She wants to talk about leasing one of the Devilier apartments.”
Several moments passed in which Charlotte feared that Marian was going to refuse the call. Finally, as if gathering her strength, Marian took a deep breath, and letting it out in a heavy sigh, she stepped over to the desk and took the receiver from Charlotte.
As
