LITMIR.BIZ

      Later that afternoon Charlotte once again approached Tessa’s door. Wanting to give the woman plenty of time to get rid of her so-called migraine, she’d saved finishing up Tessa’s room for last.

      Charlotte glanced down at the doorknob just to make sure there wasn’t a DO NOT DISTURB sign. There wasn’t one, so she knocked and waited. Then, just to be on the safe side, she knocked again louder and said, “Housekeeping.” When there was no response, she opened the door with her master key and entered the room. One glance reassured her that the room was empty and also reassured her that it looked much the same as she’d left it. Since she’d already cleaned the bathroom earlier, she began by stripping the sheets off the beds.

      Minutes later, she’d just finished putting clean sheets on the second bed when she heard the key mechanism in the door click and the door swung open.

      Charlotte immediately recognized the swimsuit-clad young woman. She was the same one who had been arguing with Lisa in the restaurant.

      The young woman dropped her tote bag on the floor. “Hi, I’m Belinda,” she said. “This is my mom’s room.”

      Charlotte smiled. No wonder she’d looked familiar. She resembled a younger, plumper Joan Rivers with dark hair. “And I’m Charlotte, the maid.”

      Belinda tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

      “I believe you were eating lunch in the restaurant at the table next to mine.”

      “Oh, yeah, that’s it,” Belinda replied.

      “Is it going to bother you for me to clean?” And though she had to force herself to say it, she added, “I can come back later.”

      Belinda shook her head. “Nope. Won’t bother me.” She laughed, and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be in the shower,” she called over her shoulder. “Besides, now is probably a good time to clean while my mom is out. She’s down at the spa getting a facial and a massage.”

      While Belinda showered Charlotte worked on cleaning the bedroom. By the time Belinda emerged in a hotel robe, Charlotte had made up both beds with clean sheets and dusted.

      “Are you from around here?” Belinda asked as she towel-dried her hair. “You know, like, have you lived here long?”

      “I’ve lived here all of my life,” Charlotte answered as she gathered up the dirty sheets.

      “So, which restaurants would you recommend?”

      Charlotte paused. “Depends on what price range you’re looking for and what kind of food you’re interested in.”

      “Price is no object, and as my mother would say, I like anything as long as it’s seafood. I see food, I eat it, and it goes straight to my hips.” She slapped her hip and laughed. “Get it?”

      Charlotte got it and forced a smile to be polite. Belinda’s laugh was a pathetic sound without humor, and Charlotte felt sorry for the girl. Personally, she thought that Belinda’s size was just fine. In her opinion too many young women were obsessed with being rail-thin, thanks to the super-models, movie stars, and television.

      “Mother is always after me to lose weight,” Belinda continued, “but I figured that since this is a vacation, I should at least sample some of the local food. After all, that’s what New Orleans is most noted for, isn’t it—that and Mardi Gras, and of course now, Hurricane Katrina?”

      Charlotte gave a slight shrug. “I suppose. In that case, most any restaurant in the French Quarter is good. And if you want something closer to the hotel, I highly recommend Commander’s Palace. But you might want to check ahead and see if you need reservations.”

      Belinda nodded. “Thanks, I will. So, what about places I should see?”

      Charlotte felt a jolt to her heart and her arms tightened around the sheets she’d picked up. Sadly, thanks to the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, many historic sites had been damaged. “It would probably be best if you checked at the concierge desk about that,” she said. “I’m sure they would be able to arrange a tour for you.”

      Again Belinda nodded. Fluffing her still damp hair with her fingers, she said, “Thanks again. Just one more thing, if you don’t mind. I’m a collector of sorts. I collect old movies, records, and books—stuff like that. So each time we take a trip, I like to add to my collection. Is there anywhere specific that I could find stuff like that?”

      Charlotte nodded. “Your best bet would be the French Market, especially on Saturday and Sunday. That’s located down on Decatur, not far from Jax Brewery and Café du Monde.”

      Belinda grinned. “Oh, cool. I’ll check it out, but guess for now I’d better get my hair dried.”

      With the sound of the hairdryer whirring, Charlotte finished cleaning the bedroom. By the time she’d vacuumed, Belinda had dried her hair and applied makeup. When Belinda came out of the bathroom, she frowned. “Are you leaving?”

      Charlotte nodded.

      “But you haven’t cleaned the bathroom yet.”

      “I cleaned it earlier this morning,” Charlotte explained. “But your mother was here and said she had a migraine and asked me to come back and clean the bedroom later.”

      With a panicky look on her face, Belinda’s gaze shifted from the bedroom to the bathroom, then back to Charlotte. “Could you please, please clean the bathroom again? I kind of made a mess in there. I thought you were going to clean it, so I wasn’t as neat as I could have been. If Mother sees that mess, she’ll be on my case big time.”

      Charlotte’s knee-jerk reaction was one of indignation. Just because Belinda had thought that the maid was going to clean it was no excuse to be sloppy. On the other hand, having experienced Tessa’s wrath herself and ever mindful that whatever she did or didn’t do would reflect on Carrie, Charlotte took pity on the girl and nodded, earning her a huge smile of relief from Belinda.

      “Oh, thank you, thank you,” Belinda gushed.

      Out in the hallway Charlotte gathered the necessary supplies from the cleaning cart. Since she’d already given the bathroom a thorough cleaning earlier, she figured it wouldn’t take long to go over it again. Then she could finally go home.

      As she wiped down the mirror, countertop, and sink, she thought about Belinda and her relationship with her mother. From the little Belinda had told her, it seemed to Charlotte that Tessa still treated her like a teenager. Then again, it was always possible that earlier, down in the restaurant, she had miscalculated Belinda’s age to begin with. Girls looked so much more mature than they really were nowadays that it was sometimes hard to tell their age.

      Charlotte sprayed cleaner on the tile surrounding the bathtub and was wiping it off when she heard a loud knock at the outer door. Then she heard Belinda ask, “Who’s there?” Though she couldn’t hear the muffled reply, she did hear Belinda’s greeting to the visitor. “Hey, Granddaddy.”

      “Hey, baby girl,” a gruff voice responded. “Is the coast clear?”

      In the bathroom Charlotte paused. She’d heard that voice before, but where?

      “Yeah, the coast is clear,” Belinda said. “Come on in. Mother is down at the spa.”

      The moment that the door clicked closed the man asked, “Did you talk to Lisa?”

      “Yeah, for all the good that did.

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