Shaking off the absurdity of that idea she fumbled through her purse for the key as she climbed the front steps. Her t-shirt was already clinging to her by the time she’d reached the front door. She located the key that had been mailed to her and tentatively inserted it into the lock. A part of her nearly expected that the key wouldn’t fit, that she’d made some sort of mistake and this wasn’t the right house.
However, the key turned in the lock effortlessly and the heavy front door swung open. Immediately Maggie felt the cool air beckoning to her from inside and she hurried into the air conditioned foyer, all hesitation forgotten.
Maggie found herself in a large, round room with a high domed ceiling and gleaming wood floors. To each side were sets of French doors with delicate lace curtains that covered their paneled windows. A curved staircase wrapped around the room spiraling up to the second floor. Several wide hallways extended out from the main room like spokes on a wheel. It was going to take her the full three months just to find her way around this place!
In the center of the grand room was a beautifully carved wooden table, shined to a high gloss. An elegant glass vase adorned the table overflowing with fragrant lilies. Resting against the vase was an envelope with her name on it.
Maggie approached the table slowly, afraid that any sudden movement would wake her from this wonderful dream and she would find herself back in that dreadful motel in Virginia. She opened the envelope and found a note inside, along with the $3,000 that was promised to her.
The note outlined a very specific set of instructions. Harvesting of the peach orchards would begin in July and Maggie’s main purpose was to be present at the home while the workers were on the property, however, the groundskeeper would actually oversee the harvesting crew. It also explained that the groundskeeper would be maintaining the property around the home and that a housekeeping service would arrive weekly. Maggie was required to be at the home when the landscaping and housekeeping personnel were present. Otherwise she was free to come and go as she pleased.
The letter also explained that the West wing of the second floor contained several guest bedrooms, of which Maggie could have her pick, however, she was expressly forbidden from entering the East wing at any time, for any reason. No explanation was given.
Finally it gave a brief explanation for the owner’s absence. Apparently the elusive Ms. Devereaux preferred to spend her summers up North. Now that Maggie had experienced a few minutes of the Georgia summer heat she could clearly understand why. The message ended with the instruction that Maggie was expected to remain on the premises until the last day of August when harvesting would be complete.
Maggie looked around at the magnificent room that she was standing in and then down at the cash that she was holding in her hands. It all seemed too good to be true. For some reason she had been chosen to look over this amazing house, somehow deemed trustworthy by this woman from a thousand miles away. The absurdity of the situation had still not left her. More importantly Maggie couldn’t believe she was being paid so well to live in a mansion rent-free just to oversee a maid service and a gardener. She read the note over carefully, looking for the catch, but she found none.
In addition to her instructions Maggie found a small hand drawn map giving her directions from the plantation to the nearest town of Sweetwater. To Maggie’s relief it didn’t seem too far and if it wasn’t for the oppressive heat it might even be considered walking distance. However under these conditions even walking to her car seemed a near impossible feat.
That thought suddenly reminded her of poor Fred still sitting on the passenger seat in Old Betty, probably being baked alive. Maggie hurried back out the front door to rescue her poor little plant from the Georgia heat. Stepping outside felt like stepping into a sauna; however, this time she had been prepared for it so it was slightly more bearable. She scurried down the steps and was relieved to find Fred was still alive and well, if not slightly wilted. She popped the trunk and juggled her few bags with one hand while securely holding Fred with the other. She was grateful that she didn’t have much, because making two trips just really wasn’t worth it.
Even in her rush to get back inside she was able to once again appreciate the beauty that surrounded her. It really was a shame that this heat would probably keep her indoors most of the summer. At least the view from the windows would be nice.
Once back inside she set her bags at her feet and placed Fred beside the elegant vase on the centerpiece table. He looked so sad and scraggly next to the extravagant lilies, completely out of place, a perfect metaphor for how Maggie felt at the moment.
3