The Housekeeper's Daughter. Christine Flynn

There’s plenty if you don’t feel like cooking for yourself tonight. I’m making pecan pies for lunch tomorrow, for those who aren’t leaving first thing. First batch will be out in ten minutes if you want a slice.”

      Olivia’s pies were pure sin. Addie would have loved some, too, had her appetite not disappeared on her way into the house.

      “Would you mind if I take it home with me?”

      “Of course I don’t. I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t want you to have it,” she replied with a tsk.

      “I don’t suppose you peeked inside the tent to see how everything looked,” she continued, sprinkling ice water into her stainless steel bowl.

      The ends of Addie’s short, blunt-cut hair swung as she shook her head.

      “Didn’t think you would,” Olivia concluded, adding a pinch of salt. “You’re not nosy enough. Must get that from your mother. Not that she isn’t nosy,” she qualified. “She just doesn’t talk that much about what she knows. Anyway, I didn’t get down there, either. But I hear that the extra tent behind the big one is the caterer’s kitchen. Your mom said they have fifty people running around down there putting the final touches on beef Wellington and salmon Oscar. Can’t imagine not working in my own space.”

      Her brow pleated as she gathered the ball of dough from the bowl and plopped it on the marble rolling board. “What are you doing up here yourself? I’d have thought that after all the hours you put in the past week, you’d be taking the evening off and spending it with your fiancé.”

      Addie finished filling the vase and reached for a stem of crimson red asters. “Mom needs the help.”

      There was so much to do with all the extra houseguests. More people created more laundry, more cleaning, more messes and Addie knew her mom was already exhausted. Even with Ina and the new girl working, Addie also knew her mom wouldn’t quit tonight until everything was as close to perfect as she could get it. All week her mother had left the cottage an hour earlier than her usual 6:00 a.m. and returned far later than her usual eight, after dessert had been served and the dishes all done.

      Her mom had always prided herself on her ability to run the Kendrick household to Mrs. Kendrick’s rather exacting standards. But since Addie’s dad had died, her mom had become even more obsessed with doing her job exactly right.

      Addie would have felt incredibly guilty knowing she was resting and her mom was not.

      “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” the cook confirmed on her way back from the double-wide refrigerator, cold marble rolling pin in hand. “There’s not a one of us who couldn’t use an extra hand right now. Can’t believe the hours we’ve put in to get everything ready and stay on top of everyone’s needs. But that’s what we’re paid for,” she murmured philosophically.

      “So,” she continued easily, putting her shoulders into rolling out a quick neat circle of dough, “what kind of wedding are you having?”

      “Something small,” Addie’s mom pronounced, walking in from the laundry room with an armload of freshly laundered and folded towels. Addie swore her mother had radar for hearing. She could pick up a conversation three hundred yards away. “Or maybe they should just elope. I’d be willing to pay for that myself.”

      Consideration joined the fatigue in Rose’s eyes as she glanced toward her daughter. Even after running herself ragged all day, her dark hair and black uniform looked as painfully neat as always. “You know, Addie, if you did that,” she said, setting her stack on the counter, “you and Scott could get married whenever you want. You wouldn’t have to spend all that time planning and reserving and waiting for a dress to come in.”

      “You’re not paying for my wedding, Mom.”

      “Do you have a date in mind?” Olivia asked.

      Addie hesitated.

      “No,” Rose replied, speaking for her daughter as she pulled one of her ever-present lists from her pocket. “I keep telling her she needs to do that so we can reserve the church and get invitations ordered.”

      “You just said they should elope.”

      “Well, they need to do one or the other. It’s not good to leave something like this hanging. Long engagements aren’t necessary.”

      Olivia folded her circle of dough in two and expertly slipped it into a glass pie plate. “Are you waiting until after you graduate?”

      Addie opened her mouth.

      “I certainly hope not,” Rose insisted, before Addie could say a word. “That would be over a year and a half from now. She’d be graduating sooner if she hadn’t taken those extra courses Gabe talked her into,” she murmured, disapproval in her tone. “What’s an elementary school teacher going to do with botany classes, anyway?”

      “They did help her discover that old garden outside of town,” Olivia reminded her.

      “Well, that’s taking up her time, too. She could be using the effort she’s putting into that, into planning her wedding.”

      While Olivia helpfully pointed out that Addie could probably do both, and the women proceeded to debate the financial merits of eloping rather than having a wedding, Addie diligently forced her attention to the stems she carefully arranged in the bright vase.

      Losing herself in the simple beauty of the flowers, appreciating the colors, textures and pretty shapes, appealed far more to her than considering how little her own opinion mattered when it came to deciding her future. The cook and her mom talked as if she weren’t even there, as if she were as invisible to them as she was expected to make herself as she went about her daily chores.

      Being invisible was familiar. So was her mom’s criticism and the guilt Addie always felt when her mom found fault with the choices she’d made. Both of her parents had wanted more for her than to tend someone else’s home and land. Addie’s dad had insisted on college. But her mom had never thought that four years of college was necessary. She’d considered secretarial school more practical because Addie could have a career and leave the estate that much sooner.

      Addie had never felt any great need to leave the sprawling grounds. She loved working with the plants and the land and she had far more freedom being outdoors than her mother did working inside. But she hadn’t wanted to disappoint either of her parents, so she had decided that she would teach because she herself loved to learn. And, being practical, there would always be a need for teachers.

      Her mother had ultimately, grudgingly, been satisfied with that. But she had also made it clear that she thought the extra classes Addie had taken last winter a waste of time and money. Addie had loved the botany courses, but they couldn’t be used toward her major, and taking them had kept her from taking classes that could. Her mom had thought Gabe quite cavalier for suggesting them, too, because people like the Kendricks could afford to indulge casual interests, but people like them definitely could not.

      Addie swallowed past the familiar sense of defeat tightening her chest. Her mom had always insisted that setting one’s sights too high resulted only in disappointment, and she wanted badly to save her from that.

      Addie knew her mom meant well. But it was so hard to work for something when someone was always pulling back on your leash. She couldn’t count the times her mom had remarked on how long it was taking her to get her degree. Because she needed her job to afford school, she worked full-time from spring through mid-December and attended college in Petersburg, seventy miles away, during winter term. A term a year was not exactly a land speed record.

      Her mom also made a point of occasionally mentioning that she could have had an office job by now, and that at the rate she was going, she might not ever graduate. Considering that she would then have no degree and no training, she’d have no choice but to spend the rest of her life as the Kendricks’ groundskeeper, a fate of which her mother definitely did not approve.

      At least with her engagement, the possibility of