down. And, Charlotte—” She hesitated, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “I apologize for leaving such a mess in here, but the last couple of days have been pretty hectic. A terrific opportunity came up out of the blue—one of those offers too good to refuse. But I’ve had to really scramble to finalize the deal.”
Charlotte smiled and waved away her apology. “Hey, that’s why you hired me, isn’t it?”
Marian didn’t answer but gazed just past Charlotte to a window. “With Aaron sick, I need to make a call and cancel my luncheon appointment with Jefferson Harper,” she said, clearly distracted, as if talking to herself. “Maybe I can reschedule for tonight. B.J. could stay with Aaron…maybe have dinner with Jefferson instead of lunch.”
The toaster dinged and the slice of bread popped up, all evenly brown and crisp. Marian stared at it as if she had never seen it before. Then she shook her head and groaned. “Too many distractions,” she mumbled. “And too much to do.” She removed the toast and placed it on a saucer.
“Jefferson Harper,” Charlotte murmured. “Hmm, why does that name seem so familiar?” But as soon as she voiced the question out loud, she suddenly remembered where she’d heard the name before. “Isn’t he the nephew that inherited the old Devilier house on St. Charles?”
Marian nodded. “That’s the one. Jefferson’s mother was Foster Devilier’s sister. She and her husband died when Jefferson was just a young boy—a car accident I think—and Foster raised him. Since Foster never had children of his own, he left everything to Jefferson. Then about a year ago, Jefferson decided to renovate the old family home and turn it into luxury apartments. A friend of a friend recommended my firm to handle the leasing of the apartments.”
“Such a small world,” Charlotte murmured.
Marian frowned. “Excuse me?”
Charlotte waved a hand.
“Sorry, just thinking out loud. One of my employees has been dating the son of the man who did the Devilier renovations, and Maid-for-a-Day won the contract for the clean-up. I’ve scheduled the cleanup for tomorrow and Sunday. In fact, when I finish here today, I intend to go over to the Devilier house and take one last walk-through.”
“No kidding?”
Charlotte grinned. “I kid you not.” She stepped closer and took the saucer of toast from Marian’s hand. “Now you go ahead and make that call, and I’ll see that Aaron gets his toast. And what about a small glass of apple juice to go with it? We don’t want him to dehydrate.”
Marian nodded. “Thanks, Charlotte. And good idea about the apple juice, which reminds me—Aaron’s pediatrician is another call I need to add to the list,” she grumbled, clearly distracted once again. “Just to be on the safe side, I’d like for the doctor to check him over,” she added, still muttering to herself as she headed toward the door that led to her office. “That’s assuming that I can get an appointment.”
Charlotte simply shook her head and opened the refrigerator. The poor woman just couldn’t seem to get it all together this morning, she thought as she removed the bottle of apple juice.
Taking a glass out of the cabinet, Charlotte poured it full. Just as she put the bottle of juice back into the refrigerator, Marian rushed back in the kitchen.
“Oh, Charlotte,” she cried, her face flushed with excitement, her eyes bright. “I just had the most fantastic idea. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to come up with a gimmick to advertise those apartments. Between you and me, the price Jefferson wants for them is outrageous. So what if—as an added incentive—I offered the prospective clients free weekly maid service? That would make them even more exclusive, and the monthly rent could be padded just a bit to absorb the cost. So what do you think?”
If the monthly rent was already outrageous, Charlotte wasn’t sure that adding an additional fee, even if it was for maid service, would be any more appealing. But Marian’s excitement was infectious, and a slow grin pulled at Charlotte’s lips as her mind raced with the possibilities. As it stood, her schedule was pretty packed already. She’d have to hire a couple of extra employees. But that wouldn’t be a problem, and over the long haul, the added income might be well worth it.
“I think that’s a terrific idea,” Charlotte finally told her. “But only if Maid-for-a-Day supplied the service. Otherwise, I think it’s a terrible idea,” she added with mock seriousness.
Marian burst out laughing. “Silly woman. Well, of course Maid-for-a-Day would supply the service. Now, if I can just sell the idea to Jefferson Harper—but first I need to see if he can meet for dinner tonight instead of lunch.”
The more Charlotte thought about Marian’s proposition over the next couple of hours as she cleaned, the more excited she became.
When noon rolled around, she chose to take her lunch break out on Marian’s front porch. While she ate the smoked turkey sandwich and apple she’d brought along with her and savored the deliciously cool air and sunshine, she mentally weighed the pros and cons of Marian’s idea.
Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, a tiny, persistent voice of reason warned her. “I’m not,” she muttered. “I’m simply thinking ahead.” But when she pulled the notebook out of her apron pocket to do a bit of calculating, she saw the reminder she’d written earlier about calling the beauty shop, and she frowned.
She’d fully intended to call early in hopes that her beautician could work her in around the time she finished up at Marian’s, but now…
Charlotte pulled out her cell phone and quickly punched in the number of the beauty salon.
Her call was answered on the third ring.
“Lagniappe Beauty Salon, Valerie speaking.”
“Valerie, this is Charlotte LaRue—”
“Oh, hey, Charlotte. I’ve been meaning to call you—to thank you.”
Charlotte frowned. “To thank me—thank me for what?”
“Not what, silly. Who. Why, none other than Mrs. Bitsy Duhe is now a regular customer of mine. She said she’d always admired the way your hair looked, and her regular hair-dresser wasn’t that dependable.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. Had she ever mentioned Valerie to Bitsy? She didn’t remember doing so, but then lately there seemed to be a lot she didn’t remember.
“And she wants a standing appointment,” Valerie continued. “Every Friday morning. Isn’t that terrific?”
Though she wasn’t exactly sure why, Charlotte felt a bit funny about Bitsy using the same beautician that she used. But she forced an enthusiasm she didn’t feel anyway. After all, it was a free country. “That’s great, hon,” she told Valerie. “And speaking of appointments, I need one. And I’m afraid I’m in a bind. If at all possible, I desperately need a haircut today.”
“Hmm, I’m looking at my afternoon appointments here. I can probably work you in around four.”
Charlotte frowned in thought. A haircut and blow-dry shouldn’t take more than an hour. If she finished up at Marian’s by three forty-five, she should still have enough time to check out the Devilier house before dark. “Four sounds great,” Charlotte told her. “See you then.”
As she slipped the cell phone back inside her pocket, Charlotte’s frown deepened. Was her memory getting worse of late? Should she be concerned? What if she was going senile, or what if, heaven forbid, she was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s? What if…
Stop it, Charlotte. Stop it right now.
With a shake of her head, she ripped the reminder note off the pad, wadded it up, then stuffed it in her pocket. The new job. Think of the job Marian was talking about earlier.
All along, even before she’d known for sure she had won the Devilier contract, she’d planned on adding the profits from