Upstairs Downstairs Baby. Cat Schield

isn’t she a bright little girl.”

      Claire turned toward the speaker, a stunning woman in her early thirties with bright green eyes and dark blond hair subtly highlighted with gold. She had perfect skin and full lips, and her flawless makeup softened the angles of her face. In a yellow T-shirt and a flowered skirt, Claire felt dowdy and uninteresting beside her.

      “Thank you. She picks up things so very quickly,” she said, her wide smile broadcasting her pride. “She’s already counting to fifty and knows her ABCs.”

      “My goodness. How old is she?”

      “She just turned two last month.”

      The woman looked suitably impressed. “You must work with her a great deal.”

      “I’m home with her all day, so that really makes a difference.”

      The woman’s gaze flicked to the plain gold band on Claire’s left hand. Her first inclination was to cover the betraying lack of sparkle. A part of Claire winced at the impulse. In this part of town, status was everything, and she’d grown tired of how fast she was dismissed. Claire pushed her irritation aside. She was a housekeeper. She shouldn’t be worrying about anyone’s perception of her. Still, it smarted a little every time she glimpsed disdain in someone’s eyes.

      But there was nothing but kind interest in the woman’s expression. “I bet you read to her all the time.”

      “I do. She loves books.” Claire beamed at Honey, realizing how many memories of her own childhood involved her mother reading to her in the overstuffed armchair in their living room. “Do you have any children?”

      “No. I’m not married.” The woman sighed. “As much as I love children, I’m not really sure I’m cut out for motherhood.”

      “It’s not always easy.”

      The woman acknowledged the remark with a faint smile. “I’m Everly Briggs.”

      “Nice to meet you, Everly. I’m Claire Robbins and this is my daughter, Honey.”

      “Well, Claire, that’s an interesting collection of ingredients you have there,” she said, letting her gaze travel over the contents of Claire’s shopping cart. “What are you making?”

      Smiling, Claire ticked off the menu she’d fretted over for the better part of a week. “Scallops with potato pancakes and caviar sauce. Braised lamb shanks with vegetable puree. And seared bitter greens with roasted beets and spiced pecans. And for dessert, a pomegranate-chocolate cake.”

      With each menu item she listed, the woman’s eyes grew wider. “Well, that’s quite impressive. What’s the occasion?”

      “My employer is hosting a dinner party.”

      “Who might that be? I’ll have to wrangle an invitation. It all sounds delicious.”

      Everly fired off the question so blithely that Claire answered before considering whether she should. “Lincoln Thurston.”

      The woman’s friendly manner underwent a slight transformation at the mention of Linc’s name. She stopped making polite conversation and became riveted. “Oh.” Her smile took on a keen edge. “Now I really want to come to the party. I heard he’s single these days.”

      “Ah...yes.”

      Wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, Claire gathered breath to make a courteous exit, but the stranger latched on to the shopping cart, preventing Claire from going anywhere.

      “I’m having some friends over next week and would love to hire you to cater my party.”

      “I’d love to, but I can’t. When I said I worked for Linc...” Claire cursed her earlier lapse. For a moment, she’d seen the admiration in the woman’s eyes and it had felt amazing. “I’m not his caterer. I’m his housekeeper.”

      “The one who lives-in?” Everly asked, a smooth drawl sugarcoating her avid curiosity.

      Claire frowned. “Yes.” What was this woman after?

      “Oh.” Everly shaded the word in all sorts of understanding. “Then you’re the woman all Charleston is gossiping about.”

       Two

      When Linc returned home from the gym, Claire’s car wasn’t in the driveway. She’d finalized the menu for his dinner party the night before and was likely shopping for ingredients. He was excited to have her cooking for his friends. Her culinary skills were fantastic. In fact, he was surprised she hadn’t gone to work for a restaurant when she’d first moved to Charleston.

      He’d asked her about it once and she’d explained about the long hours and how she’d struggled finding childcare. As he’d listened to her talk about her challenges being a single mom, he appreciated that she wanted to put her daughter’s needs first. Still, he sensed there was more to the story. She seemed to lack confidence in her ability. Which made no sense. She cooked like a dream.

      Maybe he’d put too much pressure on her. This was the first time he’d entertained since moving into the Battery Street house. While he and London had been together, she’d insisted on hosting all events. At first, he’d agreed because the house he’d purchased had gone through almost three years of renovations and wasn’t the ideal place to entertain. But once the home had been restored to its former glory, his fiancée had been unable to relinquish control. Linc had begun to see their relationship wasn’t the give-and-take partnership he craved. Too bad he hadn’t realized this before proposing marriage.

      Linc set his gym bag on a bar stool and rummaged in the refrigerator for something that would take the edge off his post-workout appetite. Claire always had snacks ready for him. Today was no exception. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that he had only an hour before his mother expected him for lunch. He was running late thanks to an impromptu shopping detour he’d made on the way to the gym. It had occurred to him as he was leaving the house that Claire had been working for him for a year. He’d neglected to mark the anniversary last week and decided to rectify the error. A few doors down from the gym was a boutique run by Theresa Owens, a friend of his sister Sawyer’s from high school. He’d popped in to buy a small token.

      After polishing off a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich and a bowl of mixed berries, Linc rummaged for a pen to sign the card that would accompany the whimsical asymmetrical silver earrings embellished with turquoise, tourmaline and opal. He’d chosen earrings because aside from her plain wedding band, earrings were the only accessories he’d ever seen Claire wear.

      Was it weird that he had bought Claire such a personal gift? He’d considered cash or a gift card but liked the idea of something he’d put thought into. Jewelry was a natural go-to purchase for him. His mother and sister both loved receiving sparkly earrings and necklaces. When he was a kid, there’d been little money available for such things. It made him feel good to be able to spoil the women in his life. And he knew they appreciated it.

      Linc left the card and the jewelry box on the breakfast bar where Claire was sure to find them and headed upstairs to shower and change. His mother expected him to arrive at her house promptly at noon, wearing pressed trousers, a crisp shirt and a blazer. Money might have been in short supply while his mother had been young, but her upbringing had been rich in Southern custom.

      Linc’s grandmother had clung to memories of wealth and power long after her husband had sold their South of Broad home to a wealthy gentleman from “off”—a man who had no history in the city. Keeping up with private school tuition and social pressures, as well as the increased expense of maintaining the large historic houses, had meant difficult choices for many old Charleston families.

      Yet, despite the downturn in his financial circumstances, Linc’s grandfather had retained enough status to keep his family afloat socially. Linc’s mother had never given up her dream of returning her